Tea and Chocolate

Who's Afraid

"If this is what you are always like the day before the full moon, Lupin, no wonder you become so exhausted afterward."

The sated groan with which Snape concluded his sentence made his lover laugh, even though Lupin could not yet speak, with his breath still coming in deep urgent gasps. They had collapsed together across the foot of Lupin's bed, and while repeated scourgifying charms had prevented the blankets and pillows from becoming repulsively unclean, the bedsheets looked threadbare where Severus' knees had dug into them and the headboard was separating from a bedpost where he had gripped it too tightly.

"That was only the third time," panted Lupin.

"The third time in six hours," Snape reminded him, also a bit breathless. "Some of us who do not share your metabolism are getting too old for this level of activity."

Lupin only grinned at him. While Snape had been anxious at first about being able to keep up with a man with the stamina of a werewolf, he had since realized that Lupin did not expect him to match his pace -- Sirius Black had not been able to even when they were much younger, Lupin had told him. And when his own body refused to cooperate, Snape found surprising pleasure in the enthusiasm with which Lupin responded to his touch, as well as his expressions of gratitude and contentment.

Now Lupin shifted around, kissed him softly with swollen lips and accused, "Complain all you wish, but I think you like knowing that I can't resist you."

"And I think you like knowing that if you beg me sufficiently, I will use whatever dark magic in my power is necessary to satisfy you." At the words, Lupin's laugh rang out once more while he slumped onto the worn bedsheets, keeping his head elevated on an arm and stroking his fingers along Snape's side until Snape shivered. "Stop that. Whatever do you do when you have no one available who's so eager to keep you content?"

"Oh, it isn't usually quite so intense. I have to feel..." Hesitating, Lupin lowered his eyes, though the smile remained. "It isn't indiscriminate. It's a combination of the physical effects of lycanthropy and being with someone who makes me want to express them this way." The lids flickered. "I'm not making you feel obligated, or ill-used, am I?"

"This is a terrible fate," Snape told him. "Lying about in the middle of the afternoon, doing nothing, during a perfectly fine weekend to be locked away in a library or brewing noxious potions instead. Perhaps I shall write a book on the art of doing nothing -- though that was really Lockhart's field of expertise, but who would he have plagiarized it from?"

Lupin allowed a scandalized chuckle to escape. "Severus! We aren't doing nothing. We spent at least twenty minutes studying the maps."

"Until you put your foot on me in a most inappropriate place and ruined my concentration. I should deduct ten points from Gryffindor for that."

"Will you explain your reasoning to Minerva? She should know about Gryffindor's disciplinary problems and I'm sure she'd be shocked to hear about my foot."

"Perhaps you are right. I should not cast blame on your former House. I should take away your chocolate until after the full moon." Suddenly Snape found himself flattened against the mattress by a man who seemed to have rediscovered his energy; even more startling, he was being prodded in the thigh again. "Honestly, Lupin, if you find it enticing to be scolded like a schoolboy..."

"I find it enticing to listen to you talk. I quite enjoy the way sex seems to loosen your tongue." The frank admission was accompanied by a hungry stare that made Snape twitch, though he would have sworn moments earlier that his body was too exhausted to respond in any way. Throughout the day, he had tried consciously to remind himself of the form Lupin would take several hours hence, but the revulsion that accompanied his instinctual dread of the werewolf had been fading steadily into guilt ever since he had successfully banished Lupin from Hogwarts. Now there was a strange element to it -- a frisson not unlike desire. Lupin noticed it, too: his demands were becoming more direct, his grins bolder. "Don't look so disapproving," he scolded.

"It's my nature to be disapproving," Snape told him, earning another chortle and a squeeze. "And the blame falls entirely upon you."

"No, no. You've brought me chocolate, you've brought me books, and you've spent all afternoon in my bed." Several retorts occurred to Snape, who scowled to disguise the flush that was threatening to creep over his features. Yet Lupin's reminders were entirely fair, and for a moment Snape let himself believe that it really could be so easy -- as if, rather than a werewolf and a wizard who bore the mark of a killer deep within his skin, they were merely two men enjoying one another on a lazy Sunday.

A finger traced Snape's lower lip, and he couldn't tell whether he heard pride or tenderness in Lupin's voice when he spoke again. "Why, Severus, you're smiling. Am I seeing a hint of possibility that you might be...happy?"

It was an absurd revelation. A day earlier, Snape had failed to give that miserable Creevey boy detention for taking ingredients from the Potions classroom to use in developing photographs. He had deducted points, of course, and assigned Creevey an essay for the weekend on the hazards of chemicals in an undisciplined environment. But he had not wanted to stay late on a Friday, rushing to Grimmauld Place as soon as his classes were over, not wishing to wait even another hour to be with Remus Lupin. Now he felt his face grow hot, and might have twisted away entirely had Lupin not stopped him from turning with a kiss.

"You've ruined me," Snape growled. "How will I ever terrify my students properly again?"

Lupin smiled gently. "From what I understand, you are still doing a wonderful job of it."

"But it's all pretense. I haven't given detentions to many very deserving pupils."

"So that you could see me?" There was no gloating that Snape could detect in Lupin's expression, only delight, though his nostrils flared with increasing mirth as he stroked his arm in what began as a soothing gesture before it grew increasingly suggestive. "Why don't you choose a day of the week. What about Thursdays. Give all your detentions on Thursdays. Then -- when you're not here, Professor -- I'll come sleep in your bed and be a very naughty Gryffindor, and on Fridays, you can give *me* detention."

With a hiss of outrage, Snape flipped over and wrestled Lupin onto his back, pretending not to have heard his little moan. "How dare you," he breathed. "Do you honestly expect me to sit still in a room of little prats knowing that you are in my bed being a naughty Gryffindor?" At Lupin's breathless whimper, he added, "Seeing your lack of contrition, I have no choice but to give you detention right now..."

"Oh yes, Severus," Lupin groaned shamelessly, and Snape understood two things: it was true that his days of terrorizing students might be over, and it was also true that he was, for the first time in long memory, happy. He knew that Lupin could see it. He suspected that Moody could see it, and Molly Weasley, and possibly the Headmaster and McGonagall and Shacklebolt and Tonks, if they were paying attention -- as they must have been, for he'd been asked to do remarkably little for the Order, no one had questioned his comings and goings at Hogwarts, and everyone at Grimmauld Place had been annoyingly conversational of late.

But it did not occur to him that two other things were inevitable until the morning after the full moon. After making certain that Lupin had taken his Wolfsbane Potion -- unnecessarily, since Lupin had never missed a dose except under extreme duress -- then saying a friendly yet awkward farewell, he had left Grimmauld Place to return to Hogwarts. Passing the Weasley twins in the kitchen on his way out, he had frowned at their smirks, knowing that their perpetual meddling would find him out if it had not done so already...and they would tell their brother Ron, who would tell his best friend, Harry Potter.

This was a crisis he and Lupin had both accepted as inevitable, but the sight of the overgrown mischief-makers reminded Snape that it was a topic that would have to be addressed very soon. On the other hand, he could not have predicted leaving his office in the Slytherin dungeon in an agreeable mood and nearly stumbling in his distraction over Gregory Goyle's father -- Snape's former colleague among the Dark Lord's followers, and one of Lucius Malfoy's closest associates.

"Snape." The voice was the flat acknowledgment with which they always greeted one another in public, but Goyle was wearing a private grin, making Snape's stomach clench unpleasantly. Goyle was a lackey and a fool, but he answered to Malfoy, and Lucius had always been able to see through Severus -- even when Snape had successfully hidden his plans to leave the Death Eaters from the older man, Malfoy had known that he was struggling with some inner conflict, and preyed upon his emotions and loyalties with every weapon he possessed.

If Malfoy guessed at any connection between Snape and Lupin, even friendship, it would be deadly for himself and Lupin both. Or perhaps -- in some obscure way -- might Malfoy be responsible for the connection, as a means of weakening Snape or Lupin or both? The sleeping terror, the werewolf, was at that moment probably curled upon the bed where Snape and Lupin had made love only the day before. During the full moon, Lupin was utterly vulnerable: if he took the potion then he had no strength, no weapons to defend himself, and if he did not take the potion then he had to be caged like an animal to protect the innocent, and would very likely be destroyed if he killed even a Death Eater in self-defense...

"I regret to be a stickler for formality, but guests must check in before visiting the dormitories, and you may be harassed by the prefects if you have not done so," Snape said to Goyle, who only nodded and smiled again.

"A foolish restriction. I hear from my son that there are many of those at Hogwarts." Searching the other wizard's face, Snape tried without success to guess what those words might have meant. "I'd been hoping for a chance to speak with you, though. I have a message from Malfoy -- "

At that moment Snape was saved by a bell, which might have been ringing for any reason from the beginning of a game to the need to summon a house-elf but which he used as an excuse to whirl away with an expression of surprise. "I am most dreadfully sorry, but I am needed in the classroom immediately," he said to Goyle. "The ingredients for combustible potions have already been set out -- I cannot allow the students to begin to experiment with them unsupervised -- I do hope that I will see you later."

He was already plotting to get a message to Dumbledore requiring that he meet with the headmaster the moment his classes had finished, but at that precise moment, he felt a tingling on his arm that could only mean one thing. "Soon, Snape," Goyle nodded. "I am only here to deliver a package to my son that could not be trusted to an owl in these uncertain times...but I will see you very soon."

True to his word, Goyle was gone before dinner; Snape had not expected him to linger in the halls of Dumbledore's domain. Yet long after the moon had set, past the time when he might have contacted Lupin who was always weak and pained after the middle of the month, Snape remained locked in his office, rejecting the compulsion to communicate which preyed upon him like a curse. Again he wondered whether Lupin might have an unnatural hold upon him, either through some treachery on his part or based on a binding spell created by one of Snape's enemies. How else could he have grown so weak so quickly, like an infatuated youth?

For three days he kept to himself, grading essays in meticulous detail, finding a perverse comfort in the discovery that he could still operate entirely independently; he suffered only from a maddening inability to fall asleep without a sleeping draught. But on the fourth night, despite having nineteen detentions he had meant to oversee, he realized that it would be best if he reported directly to Moody on the ingredients of a potion the former Auror had asked him to analyze. It wasn't as if he could avoid Grimmauld Place indefinitely, though he arrived as late as he dared, long after he expected that most of the wizards would have departed for their homes or defensive positions, when all but insomniacs like Moody would be asleep.

In the course of conversation, Snape attempted to ask Moody whether he had ever thought it was possible that Lupin -- a werewolf, and the longtime lover of a man imprisoned in Azkaban -- might possibly have come under the influence of their enemies without any of them suspecting it. Unfortunately Moody was stubborn and inquisitive, claiming that nothing was wrong with Lupin except for the fact that he was moping again, which Moody blamed on Snape. When Moody was reminded that he, himself, like the rest of them, had been certain that Black had been guilty while Pettigrew had been innocent, thus proving that they had all made grievous errors in judgment before about which of them might be susceptible, the onetime Auror only scoffed and made the outrageous suggestion that Snape was behaving cowardly.

Tired -- and unhappy, though he insisted to himself that it was because of Moody's outrageous comments -- Snape failed to notice until he had entered his room upstairs that someone was already inside. He realized his mistake as soon as he had shut the door, though he concluded just as quickly that nobody planning a stealth attack would have built a fire nor left chocolate upon a table.

Lupin was lying across his bed, dressed fully in his robes and clutching his wand, looking not like a naughty Gryffindor but like an ill, unhappy wizard, even in sleep. Sitting on a corner of the mattress, Snape watched him for awhile. Upon discovering his lover there, he had thought of two plans of action: the first was to use what skills he possessed as a legilimens to probe Lupin's mind and learn the extent of his susceptibility, while the second was merely to maintain a polite distance and tell Lupin that upon reflection, what they were doing was entirely too dangerous to the safety of everyone. Either plan should have been a simple matter for a former Death Eater now committed to the safety of the Order of the Phoenix, yet he found that he could do neither.

After a while Lupin stirred, blinking as he sat up. "Severus?"

Even a simple nod of acknowledgment was more difficult than it should have been. "You're in my bed," said Snape needlessly.

Lupin looked uncertain, but he forced the ghost of a smile to his lips. "I tried Minerva's, but it was too soft," he said, clearing his throat. "Then I tried Alastor's, but it was too hard. So I tried yours, and it was just right."

"But that's only a fairy tale. A Muggle fairy tale, as I recall." In spite of himself Snape found that he was responding to the smile, offering his own hand when Lupin reached out. "And doesn't the wolf huff and puff and blow the house down?"

"No, no, that's the Three Little Pigs. This is Goldilocks and the Three Bears."

"Oh, yes. Was Goldilocks the girl who kept her hair hidden under a cape so her stepmother couldn't cut off her long braids?"

"I'm afraid you're mixing up Rapunzel and Little Red Riding Hood."

"That's right, with the ravenous creature who hid meekly in the bed. Why, Lupin, what big teeth you have."

"All the better to eat you with, my dear..." Then Lupin's face crumpled, and his voice wavered as he spoke again. "I'd started to wonder if you weren't coming back. If you'd belatedly remembered that I was the Big Bad Wolf."

Though he shook his head, Snape's fingers closed tightly on Lupin's, giving away more than he intended. "I'm afraid that I had never forgotten."

"Is that what's wrong?" Lupin's eyes searched his face. "Did something happen? Are you all right?"

"How," Snape asked, slowly, heavily, "can we do this? Why should you trust me when you know what I was? And how can I trust you knowing what you are?"

Lupin had turned pale and was hunched over, as if Snape had given him a blow to the stomach, but his voice remained strong. "What have I done, Severus, to make you mistrust me?"

"Perhaps it's merely that you rationalize the risks. Pettigrew played you and Black, making you doubt one another, did he not?" When Lupin flinched, shock giving way to defiance, Snape continued, "You know that I still talk to my former associates. I socialize with them on occasion, sometimes specifically when the Headmaster asks it of me, but at other times only because I have been invited. If someone within the Order were brutally murdered the way James and Lily Potter were, I would be the obvious suspect."

Frowning, Remus nodded. "That is possible. But it doesn't explain your own doubts."

"The Dark Lord told Harry Potter that with Flamel's stone, he could bring back the dead. We have reason to believe that he may have been telling the truth."

"That is possible as well, but I'm not certain that I understand the connection."

"Didn't you ever think about it? When Black fell? After twelve years of believing that he was a murderer, turning your back on him, leaving him to rot because you couldn't trust him...what would you do now, to have him back, if it were offered?"

"Are you asking me whether I'd give you, or Harry, or anyone else, up to our enemies to have Sirius back? Severus, I would hope that you'd know me better than..."

"As well as you knew Pettigrew and Black? Don't you ever ask yourself, what if you are wrong again?"

The words made Lupin flinch again, lifting his hand to signal Snape to stop, yet his words remained defiant. "I would never have considered such a price. Even months ago, when I -- when I blamed you for not continuing to teach Harry occlumency." While he spoke, Lupin had continued to hold his hand in the air, as if preparing to ward off a blow; now he turned the palm and gestured downward, resigned. "I choose to trust you, maybe precisely because I did not trust Sirius when I should have -- I think we've both learned that sometimes one must go with instinct, even in the face of what seems like logic. I know you can't discuss any contact you may have had with the Death-Eaters, but if someone has told you something about me, I assure you that I have no deeper, darker secrets than the ones you already know."

They were both silent for a long time, with Snape unable to make the same assertion, yet feeling as if the question had been silently put to him. "Will you tell me at least if you believe me?" Lupin asked finally.

"I do believe you." It was clear from Lupin's face that he was skeptical, so Snape sought an explanation. "You once told me that when Black came out of Azkaban, he was incapable of recalling happy memories without pain -- a long conditioning from contact with the Dementors." Lupin nodded. "Then you must understand...for somewhat similar reasons, I do not trust happiness. Its consequences in my life have been disastrous."

"I see." Lupin rubbed at a scar on his arm. "I suppose I should get used to it."

"I am sorry. I did warn you, as best I was able..."

"I know you did." Lupin's fingernails scratched at the old gash like a claw tracing the red mark in his skin, making his face contort -- a technique Snape knew all too well, turning psychic pain into something physical, much easier to control. He snatched the fingers away from the scar, bending Lupin's wrist with the force of the gesture.

"Stop this. It's not necessary. There is a great deal that I have not told you and cannot tell you. I must apologize..."

"You don't have to apologize, Severus." The resignation in the voice was harder to bear than a cry of pain. Lids closed, Lupin asked him, "Do you want me to leave?"

Such a blunt question should have made it easier to say what was necessary: a single syllable, and they would both be free from the risks they had brought to one another and to the Order. Still, Snape discovered that he could not lie to Lupin. "You fool." The harsh words, at least, brought Lupin from passivity to alertness, though his eyes were too bright now, the skin around them swollen and damp. "I had thought that if it became too dangerous, I would simply let you go. Obviously I am bungling that attempt."

"You didn't answer my question. Do you want me to go?"

Snape felt the denial fill his throat, threatening to force itself to his lips; he shook his head to force it back, shuddering, until Lupin's free hand caught his shoulder and steadied him. "This," he managed to whisper instead. "Whatever this is. Between us. Can you honestly say that it could be worth your life?"

"In such times as these?" Lupin's voice was low but determined. "I think that any small measure of love is worth dying for."

"And is that what this is?"

"Not a small measure." The hand he had been holding in an awkward, painful vise since he pulled it away from Lupin's arm twisted under his fingers, catching and gripping his own wrist. "It's more than that, Severus, at least to me. And deny it if you will, but I think you feel the same way, or you would never have asked these things of me -- you would have told me to go."

Snape could feel his own chest heaving; for a minute he was afraid that he was going to be sick, or that anything he said would shatter into a cry, despite many years of discipline and self-control that had made him the Order's most skilled Occlumens. His fingers remained wrapped firmly around Lupin's hand. Then, after a hush that stretched from seconds into minutes, until the fire had visibly dimmed and the room darkened, he knew that he did not need to speak -- his silence had answered Lupin's words -- he still had not told him to go.

"I gave out nineteen detentions on Tuesday," he muttered instead.

Lupin's free hand came up and stroked his face, cooler than his breath, which gusted between them in a puff of laughter, or perhaps a sob. "Nineteen!" Their foreheads came together, and Snape found his arm sliding up the other man's, pulling him close. "Oh, Severus, that must be a high mark even for you."

"The students were particularly ill-behaved. Though none was so naughty a Gryffindor as to sleep in my bed." Lupin was shaking under his hands, partly with uneven bursts of laughter and partly because he was shivering. "You really must stop doing things by half-measures -- you should be under the blankets."

"I was so tired, Professor..." Lupin moved readily in response to Snape's urging, letting himself be rolled to the side and stuffed under the covers before turning back into Snape's arms, his face against Snape's neck, and if those were tears on his cheeks, then Snape was certain that they were a result of his pain from the full moon. He stroked Lupin's hair, and a quiet sniffle turned into a sort of snicker. "If you want to give me weeks and weeks of detention, I promise never to complain."

It had to be dangerous, Snape thought, to feel such acute need as that which rose in him, despite how obviously weak Lupin was and his own exhaustion. Yet he could think of no means to resist it when their mouths found one another, and the salty, bitter taste on Lupin's lips made his hands begin to wander, urgent to distract from the pain. He had never been so unrestrained with Malfoy, nor with any of the rare partners he had sought in the intervening years, all of whom had been substitutes. Despite the danger, he felt safe for the first time in his adult life, free of the terrible bond to his first lover.

Many hours later, when the fire had burned out and Lupin had slept deeply, curled against him like an animal -- Snape had drifted in and out of wakefulness, quite calm and clear-headed as he pondered various matters that had to be dealt with -- they began to talk again. It seemed likely at this point that everyone within the Order knew that Snape and Lupin were on intimate terms: Moody certainly did, Molly Weasley certainly did, and the rest were not fools but simply granting them the discretion that Snape had made it obvious he craved. Not everyone connected with Grimmauld Place, however, could be trusted to do the same, and they turned their attention to the ongoing problem of the infuriating Harry Potter.

"If Harry were to learn of it from one of his peers, he would never trust me again," Lupin agreed in a flat voice. "But, Severus, he may never trust me again if I tell him directly."

"There is an additional cause for concern, should the rumor spread among the students," ventured Snape. "In addition to whatever damage might be inflicted upon my reputation with an already unruly, undisciplined body of students -- " Lupin choked back a snicker at this. " -- any gossip spreading through Hogwarts is certain to come to the attention of Draco Malfoy and through him to his father, which would be more damaging still. I do not believe that any of the other students have sufficient access to tell credible stories about me, if Potter and Weasley can be prevented from talking."

"I understand. Perhaps I might come up with you on the weekend. In the meantime I shall try to figure out what to say..."

Very unwillingly, Severus said, "I have been thinking. Perhaps it would be best if I spoke to him." From the startled noise that greeted this pronouncement, he knew that Lupin's first instinct was to ask him whether he had gone mad. "His greatest anger is likely to come at the very beginning. I hardly think he could dislike me any more than he already does. I also expect that he would not want to hear any explanation you might offer, and in fact that he would greatly prefer not to hear your reasons, but I think it is slightly possible, perhaps, that he might listen to mine."

Lupin no longer sounded entirely scornful of the idea, but he was very still, demonstrating no enthusiasm for it either. "What would you tell him?" he asked finally, and then, at Snape's silence, "I'm going to make a suggestion that you may not like very much. You said once that you wondered whether Molly had ever wondered what Harry would say when she first sent you to bring me tea...I think you should ask her."

"Ask Mrs. Weasley?" Certainly Lupin could hear Snape's distaste in his tone.

"Aside from me, perhaps, she knows him better than anyone in the Order, perhaps than any other adult. He obviously has affection for her, even apart from the fact that she is his friend's mother. And, you know, she has more experience in dealing with children than we do."

"That is true." Though the room was still quite dark, Snape could hear the house beginning to stir. Downstairs, someone was dragging a chair from one room to another, and some of the paintings were talking in quiet voices in the hallway. When she was in residence at Grimmauld Place, Molly Weasley was frequently one of the first ones up and about; she seemed to have made it her personal responsibility to be certain that those returning from raids had gotten something to eat before they went to rest, and to be certain that those about to leave for work were aware of the schedules and locations of the others. If he wanted a moment alone with Molly Weasley, this was perhaps the opportune moment to seek it.

It took two spells to straighten his rumpled robes, and there was nothing he could do about the circles under his eyes. But he let Lupin kiss him goodbye with a smile. "Might I hope to see you tonight, since it's Friday?"

"So long as no emergency arises, you will certainly see me tonight, and I will tell you then precisely how terrible the damage may be."

"Ever the optimist, Severus." Lupin shook his head, though he was still grinning. "It won't be so bad as you think. Molly, at the very least, does not bite."

Though he nearly knocked Tonks down the stairs in his haste, Snape reached the kitchen and discovered to his great relief that Molly was up and about while Moody was not. She gave him a warm smile as she greeted him, making him wonder what he had ever done to earn it.

"Mrs. Weasley," he said awkwardly. "I would appreciate a few minutes of your time."

"Of course." Grabbing two cups of tea, she hustled him into the dining room, which remained empty except when everyone sat down to a meal together, which almost never happened at breakfast time. "Come and sit down. Now, what is it? I know that Remus was very upset not to hear from you, not that he would have said anything of course -- is anything wrong?"

Though mildly appalled at her words, they only confirmed the urgency of the discussion for if Molly had noticed that Lupin was unhappy in his absence, she was surely not alone in the observation. Snape crossed his hands in his lap and sat stiffly beside her. "You and your family are quite close with Harry Potter," he said, waiting for her nod before he continued. "There are very few adults to whom he has displayed any proper resp-- that is, there are not many in the Order who have his complete trust. Perhaps not even the headmaster at this time." Again she nodded. "I do think, however, that he will listen to Lupin."

Beaming at him, she started to enthuse, "That is because Remus Lupin is..." but he cut her off.

"If someone should choose to be indiscreet with whatever innuendo he possesses about Lupin and myself, and should that innuendo reach Potter's ears..."

Molly's eyes widened, and her mouth curved in an "oh" of understanding. "Severus, I wouldn't have said anything, because I know you think it's not my business, but I have already told Fred and George that if any gossip travels from their lips to Ron's ear, I will treat it as a betrayal of Order business and recommend that they be barred from entering this house for anything but a family emergency. And I hardly think anyone here is indiscreet enough for idle speculation..." At Snape's glower, she fell silent. "However, I must agree with you. Harry must be told, and it would certainly be better if he didn't learn about it from some outside party."

"Lupin and I have agreed that it would be best if one of us told him. I had thought, perhaps, since he is certain to become angry about it, that it might be better if it were myself."

"So that he doesn't turn all that anger onto the one adult he trusts."

"Precisely. Only I must present the information in a manner that will not allow him to believe that Lupin is being unduly influenced, by me, perhaps, or merely being cowardly by not telling him himself. I had thought that, perhaps -- since you know him -- you might have some suggestions as to how to approach the matter."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt ridiculous, but after a moment of thoughtful consideration, she met his eyes. "Why is he alive, Severus?"

Though he was tempted to say that Potter was apparently alive to make his own life a misery, Snape merely curled his lip and recited the information that Dumbledore had made certain to explain over and over: "Because his mother gave her life to save him. Because she made the sacrifice in love, he was protected."

"Yes! Exactly!" Molly would have made a fine schoolteacher; she sounded very much like Sprout giving excessive praise. "It's what Albus said to all of us when we talked about blocking spells and whatever else Moody was going on about at the last meeting. The Dark Lord can't withstand love. There is no greater protection that any of us could have. Harry's mother may have given us the key to defeating our enemies. You don't have to explain any of this to Harry, he already knows; you need only remind him of it."

"But that will not make him accept what he may perceive as Lupin having betrayed his godfather and himself. I'm not even certain that he would accept friendship between us, let alone what his adolescent mind may perceive as a sordid and unnatural bond..."

"Then you will have to impress upon him that there is nothing sordid about it. All you really have to do, Severus, is to tell him how much you love Remus."

Snape's knuckles went white, his lips compressed into a thin line and it took a great deal of control not to stride out of the room. "I hardly think..." he began, but Molly cut him off in the tone she used with her older sons when they offered an opinion with which she disagreed.

"Listen to me. You said yourself that there is more at stake here than your feelings or Harry's -- Remus is one of very few adults he respects. Does he listen to you, or me? Remus stopped him from jumping through the veil after Sirius, and I'm not sure anyone else could have done that." Her eyes were blazing, perhaps with unshed tears. "You understand that he's a child. That any insult or injury he may have paid you comes from a child's selfishness and pettiness and...don't you think I've seen this enough from one of my own sons?"

Abruptly she stopped, blinked and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping her eyes and sniffling Percy's name, which Snape found so embarrassing to watch that he awkwardly patted her hand, sincerely hoping that it might stop her tears. Molly glanced at his hand on hers, gave him a rather astonished stare, and, indeed, seemed to forget her lamentation. "I know there are things you've done which were for his own good that he resented anyway. Perhaps you could explain that you were trying to make him stronger...I don't know, or I'd have been a better parent myself. There may be nothing you can say that will convince him of your lack of ill will as far as he's concerned. But you must convince him when it comes to Remus -- no matter how much you believe that it's not Harry's business to judge you -- you must at the very least convince him that your feelings are sincere, and deep, and lasting."

Mortified nearly beyond speech, Severus withdrew his hand from hers and said, "I will do my best to be certain that he does not rebel any more than he has, and to prevent him from turning his back on Lupin." He glanced at her somewhat hopefully. "Perhaps if you were to speak to him..."

"No, dear, if I were to speak to him that *would* look cowardly on Remus' part and on yours. You don't have to go out of your way to be sweet and cheerful -- he might be more comfortable if you were your familiar scowling self." Laughing softly, she retrieved his hand and squeezed it. "You must remember being his age; it's all terribly confusing, and all the love business is the worst. I was in love with three boys, and...I must remember to have a talk with Ginny." Once again her eyes grew misty, and Snape, who had heard something of the youngest Weasley's dating exploits, bit back a smirk. "My point is, telling Harry in a formal voice that you care for Lupin is only going to make him think you're talking down to him. You must be unequivocal. Tell him that you would die for Lupin."

"You don't believe he would object to me in the same way that children often resent a stepmother or stepfather?" Again, the moment the words were out of his mouth, Snape was horrified at the intimacy they suggested, but Molly didn't appear to blink.

"Of course he might. But there are plenty of children who harbor grudges against their parents and listen to them anyway. No matter what he might say to you, he'll see what measure of value you put on Remus if you're willing to come to him and expose yourself to his scorn and anger. If he is cruel, all you can do is let him see that you are willing to accept such spitefulness, because Remus is worth it. You understand, don't you, dear?"

Snape did not think he could sit and listen for another moment. Rising, he nodded at her as well as he could manage without meeting her eyes. "Thank you. You have given me a great deal to think about."

Molly squeezed his hand once more before releasing it. "I know you can do this, Severus. You're very different than you were." His displeasure must have shown, because she added, "Don't make that face. Albus didn't make all that up about love, you know. It really did save Harry's life. Do you have a better explanation of how he survived a year at Hogwarts with Quirrell?" Snape did not. It was a question he had asked himself more than once, when he kept himself up nights wondering how Voldemort might punish him for months of thwarting his will, keeping both Potter and the Stone safe. "But -- oh! Don't you have to teach in an hour!" Then Molly was hustling him back into the kitchen, where Tonks and Moody were sharing apple bread and jam.

As Snape finished his breakfast in silence, turning his thoughts to the difficulty of describing love in terms an immature teenager would understand, the kitchen door open. "I'm not too late for breakfast, am I?" asked Lupin.

Certainly not, they all agreed, and Snape got up to offer him his seat, aware of the eyes of all the others upon them. "I must be going. I have a class to teach." The nod that Lupin offered was cautious, constrained in the presence of the others. It would not do -- not if they were going to convince Harry Potter that they loved one another enough to make petty obstacles like public embarrassment disappear.

"Until this evening, Remus." As his words sunk in while he strode past, Snape swept his hand over his lover's shoulder and across his neck. The back of Lupin's head brushed along the inside of his arm, pressing down on the Dark Mark, which had been burning faintly ever since he had seen Goyle the day before. Quite suddenly the sensation was gone.

Snape could hear Tonks' surprised indrawn breath, and he was sure that Moody's eye followed him all the way through the kitchen door, but any discomfort he might once have felt was nothing next to the warmth spreading through him from the spot marked by his deepest shame. *It is agony for Voldemort to touch a person marked by love*, Dumbledore had said. Reaching deep into his pocket beside his wand, he pulled out an amulet -- a memory locket, holding his happiest recollection from another world, from what seemed a lifetime ago. He had not dared to open it for many years but he did so now, keeping his eyes closed, and banished with a quiet spell a recollection that should have been lost to the past long before.

Those years with Lucius -- the obsession and fear that had brought him to Voldemort -- that had not been love. Perhaps he had understood as little as Potter. The boy might never forgive his potions teacher for a long list of grievances, most entirely unjust, but he did understand love; Snape remembered the vehemence with which he had defended both Black and Lupin. He could be brought to believe in Snape's sincerity, this one time.

Snape cleared his thoughts of everything but the image of Lupin's smile and the fading ache in his own arm as he walked from the kitchen. He did not want any intruding details -- no sensuous recollections nor complicated emotions coming to the surface, not even small things like the brush of Lupin's hair beneath his fingertips as they slid across his neck. He focused on the precise instant when the Dark Mark lost all power over him, when he had known no doubt whatsoever about the depth of his feelings. By the time the locket closed, sealing in his certainty, he could no longer understand what he had ever thought could be difficult or frightening about something that was so simply, unquestionably true.