The Heart of Night

Heart of the Night

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Trust Me

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1 Moon, 1 Week

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Severus was fuming silently as he walked around in his quarters, examining every place. His instincts no more alarmed him about anything -- he didn't know whom Albus had told to get anything made of silver away, but the person hadn't done a very good job of it; when he'd first arrived to his rooms after that fateful night he'd thought he had gone crazy, the instincts warning him of silver had been shrieking at him, trying to make him go away at once. With the help of Lupin, who already could understand what his instincts were trying to tell him, and some house-elves for the lack of better help with no silver allergy, he'd finally got his quarters clean of the dangerous metal.

No, his quarters were not the reason for his rage. The thing that had him fuming was Minerva. He'd met with the Head of Gryffindor while he'd been wandering through the halls -- even though his personal territory wasn't that big yet, the school grounds in whole were the pack's territory, and thus his wolf instincts made him want to examine it. He'd tried to start a conversation with her, but all the time she'd just avoided his gaze, tried desperately not to mention that anything had changed in him, and definitely not she would ever mention any of the visible signs of his curse. In the end, he'd finally got fed up with his colleague's behaviour and marched off, leaving her standing in the corridor on her own.

Really, he couldn't have changed that much, now could he? So he transformed every month, okay. Very well. She'd never had any problems with Lupin's Lycanthropy, so why would he be a different thing?

Even his behaviour hadn't changed. Much. Well, so he had to fight down the urge to bare his teeth every time he became irritated, yes, and he felt like everybody walking on his pack's territory was there only because they allowed it -- and because Albus forced them to allow it -- but then again, that wasn't much different from what he'd been like even before. The most drastic change had to be that whenever Lupin was around, he seemed to automatically take the submissive role.

That was the one change Severus hated most himself. Being the control freak he was, the thought of having to bend to another person's word was just foreign to him. His stubbornness had got him away from Voldemort, for Merlin's sake -- why couldn't he fight down Lupin? But he couldn't. He simply couldn't, no matter how much he hated it. Whenever he was elsewhere, it seemed ridiculous to him -- how could he be so humble, how could he accept it so easily? But when he then came to Lupin's presence, he had to accept it all. His wolf side forced him to just submit to his alpha's will, making him unable to protest. Fortunately, Lupin never would use that on his advantage. Even more fortunately, the control wasn't even near complete. Only at full moons would he be completely under the other werewolf's will; at other times, all that came from their ranking order was this odd need to accept whatever Lupin said as a sensible option, if not obey him right away, and not to rise against him. You never rise against your alpha.

Stopping in front of a large mirror, Severus looked at his reflection in it. He looked sickly, and very thin. He was pale, like he always had been, and his eyebrows seemed a bit thicker. The Potions Master wiped his hair behind to reveal his ears, seeing that they were now pointy. Not much, but enough to be noticed. His lips drew away into a sneer, revealing his sharp, shiny white teeth.

Oh, yes. Severus was the first to admit that he'd never been any Mister Hogwarts even before, but now he looked totally bad -- other than his teeth, which had changed to the better. Lupin always managed to look somehow fragile and ethereal, beautiful in a very vulnerable, needs-some-comfort way. The gold in his eyes around full moons only made them shine more amber than usually, and his slender body made him look like he'd fly away with the wind.

But not him, no. Of course not. He was Severus Snape, after all -- nothing that lucky could happen to him. His new self -- sickly, thin, gold-freckle-eyed self -- looked like a junkie skeleton with a serious hygiene problem. Well, Lupin had said he'd get better. And that his eyes would also turn amber by time -- not really a pleasant thought, but a lot better than those annoying golden spots in his black orbs.

"Admiring yourself, I see," he heard a voice from the direction of the doorway. He didn't have to turn around to see who it was. Even if he hadn't recognized the voice or the scent of another werewolf, the soft, nearly soundless steps his ears had caught before would have given Lupin away immediately.

"Sod off, Lupin," he said, but with a voice that told the other man that he wasn't serious. He still didn't take his eyes off the mirror. "How could I resist the urge to see my charming new appearance on every available occasion?"

"Funny, very funny indeed." Lupin walked nearer. Then he peered over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow at him by the mirror. "Don't like what you see, I guess," he said dryly.

"Brilliant, Lupin. How did you notice? Everybody would think I love my new looks." He snorted dryly, turning around to face the other man. "I look horrible," he said. "Not that I'd been good-looking before, but now I'm a total mess."

"Then you should do something to it," Lupin suggested, smiling slightly.

"Like?" he asked with a little smirk. He knew what he was going to get with that comment, but didn't care. Let him say it, anyway.

"Like wash your hair," the other werewolf chuckled. Right. Of course right, Severus was always right. Well, at least most of the time. He had been wrong to assume that the last call had been a usual meeting. "I know that hanging you head over potion cauldrons all day makes your hair a mess, but you could at least try and do something to it."

"So I should stop being the 'greasy git,' eh?" Severus asked dryly. "How lovely of you, Remus. I'm glad to see that you really care." Then he shrugged. "Maybe I could do that much," he said. "The scent of the potions uses to hang on, and it's irritating me nowadays, when I can really smell it." He noticed that the brunet wasn't listening to him at all. He just stood there, staring at him with an expression of disbelief on his face. "What's wrong?" he asked, irritated. "Did I just grow another head?"

"N-no," the other man stammered after getting over his first surprise. "It's just -- you just --" He sighed, and then tried again, "Severus, you just called me Remus. Not Lupin. Remus."

Severus thought about it for a while. Yes, he had done that. For some odd reason it didn't feel all too uncomfortable to him. He was ready to put it on the account of being packmates, as that seemed like the most natural explanation. "Well, I guess I could take on that habit," he replied, shrugging. "We've spent a lot of time together recently, after all." He raised an eyebrow and added, "You shouldn't have anything against it, considering that you've called me Severus for years now."

"I have nothing against it," Remus grinned his verification.

"So Remus it is." He felt somehow odd. There weren't many people he called by their given name -- only Albus, Minerva and Filius, to be exact. And Poppy. Poppy had healed him from the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse far too many times to count -- that brings you easily to the first name basis.

He had never thought this little circle of people he could call his friends -- or at least companions -- would ever widen more. Even less would he have thought that the one who'd widen it would be Remus Lupin.

Well, times change. People change. It was definitely time to leave old grudges behind. Especially if the target of those grudges was the only one around who could really understand how he felt.

And especially if that person managed to look good even as a werewolf.

Hey, wait a minute... Where had that thought come from?

And did he even care?

*

"You look much better," Remus praised as the Potions Master appeared to the DADA Professor's quarters after a shower and changing himself. Severus was now wearing dark grey jeans and a Slytherin-green shirt. He wouldn't have admitted it to any of his students, but the black robes he usually wore were solely for the frightening effect. He much preferred Muggle clothing on his free time, as it didn't get in the way when he was brewing his precious potions.

"Why, thank you," he said dryly. "I now look like a junkie skeleton who has washed his hair. Not much better than before, if you ask me."

"Believe me, it is much better," Remus said and grinned slightly. "I didn't know that your hair is so reddish black. I had always imagined it would be more blueish under all that grease."

Severus didn't bother to mind the faint insult. Remus most probably hadn't meant it as one anyway; he was too kind for that. "So now we know what everyone's favourite werewolf does on his free time. He's speculating about everyone's least favourite werewolf's exact hair colour."

Remus rolled his eyes. "How self-confident," he chuckled.

"What?" The dark-haired werewolf raised his eyebrows. "Everyone hates me. It has nothing to do with my self-confidence. It's a commonly known fact. Ask almost anyone."

"I don't hate you," Remus reminded.

"No, you don't," he replied. "And Albus probably doesn't, or some of my colleagues. But that's all of it. But you - everyone likes you. Shit, everyone loves you."

"Not the Slytherins," Remus pointed out lightheartedly.

"That's not true. I'm a Slytherin," Severus threw back.

"So you love me, then?" Remus laughed.

"Well..." He grinned mildly. "At least I don't hate you."

"Nice to hear." Remus grinned back. "Have a seat, please." When Severus was seated, the golden-haired werewolf said, "So... How have you settled to your new life?"

Severus raised his eyebrows once again. "Like you can expect," he answered. "I'm examining our pack's territory, hating my new looks, trying to accept the fact that I'm not on the top of the ranking order, and of course fighting down the urge to strangle Minerva when she won't look me in the eye."

"All perfectly natural, especially with your character." His companion nodded a bit. "Try not to be so angry at Minerva. She behaves that way only because she cares for you, and is upset because all this shit happens to you. And I would be avoiding your eyes, too, if I were her -- those golden freckles must constantly remind her of what exactly has happened to you."

"I know they look awful," Severus sighed. "There's no need to rub it at my face. When will they change to the same as your eyes, anyway?" he asked then curiously.

"That should be over by the next full moon already," told Remus. "Once it starts, it's soon over. Your eyes will get lighter, until they're on the right level, and then gain the amber shade instead of the grey they'll be at that point. A few days, or a week -- that's what it all will take at most."

"Splendid," snorted the "fresh-turned" werewolf. "I can only hope it has already happened by the time the students arrive. There will be enough questions even otherwise."

"Well, that's at least one thing you can be sure about." After a moment, Remus asked, "What are you going to tell to your Slytherins, anyway? It won't be easy to make them accept a werewolf as their Head of House, that even I know for sure."

"They would never accept that, so they won't have to," Severus said calmly. "I'll give my Head of House position to Sinistra. Those who I ever had any hope to lead away from Voldemort will still turn to me anyway, and I no more have to play a nasty little Death Eater to stay on the Dark Lord's good side."

"Sounds reasonable enough." The alpha of the tiny pack sighed deep. "I truly hope that none of this had happened to you," he said quietly, casting his eyes down to the floor. "It is quite enough that I have to suffer it all myself. I definitely don't wish my own fate on anybody else."

"What, not even on me?" Severus asked, smirking dryly at his own words.

"Least of all on you," came the quiet reply. "I just cannot understand how you're taking this all so well. I'd rather have thought that you'd at first kill me, then rage about how unfair this is and refuse to accept it. You're the last person this should ever happen on, since losing control to the moon and the wolf is so completely foreign to your nature. This must be so horrible to you."

"You just haven't seen me on my worst," the Potions Master said calmly. "You're the alpha, I hardly can rage at you. And besides, I do value control, and thus I cannot let myself break down, or to spend myself on futile rage. That's exactly what Voldemort expects me to do, and I won't give him that satisfaction."

"Now, that's more like the old you," commented Remus, smiling weakly. "At times, especially after our battle for domination, I feared that the curse had broken your spirit. You were taking it all so easily, it wasn't like you at all. I would have expected you to put up a bit more of a fight."

"There's no use to fight, so I won't waste my energy to that," replied Severus, shrugging. "And besides, you forget that I have my own wolf side now. My human side is screaming against accepting anybody as my superior, but the wolf side tells it to shut up and listen to the alpha."

Now it was Remus's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Nice to see that at least somebody finds it reasonable to pay some attention to me," he commented dryly. "Even if it's rather a something. By the way," he then said, suddenly taking another turn entirely in the conversation, "where do you think Albus will find two substitutes each month? And with all the potions requiring silver equipment, I do think there'll be need for a permanent Potions Assistant who can also substitute you at times."

"I've no idea." With a hard glint in his eyes, Severus then added, "What I'd more like to know right now, however, is the personality of the traitor who gave me away and captured you. Without that bastard and their betrayal, we wouldn't be in this situation at the first place."

This made them both fall silent, deep in thought. Unfortunately, neither of them had the solution to this.