Werewolves at Hogwarts

Chapter 9

Severus lay back in his favourite armchair, a finger massaging the vein in his temple, his hand wrapped around a cup of very strong tea. He feared to sleep, although he was so tired his eyes felt they were sand papered worse than if he had been under the Cruciatus curse. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Remus' concerned and loving smile looking up at him from a face he knew by heart. It was wrong, it was impossible, but Lupin was in his mind and he could not get him out!

Even worse, Remus was in his dreams. No matter what he usually dreamed; Lupin was there in some capacity or other. In fact, when he thought about it, Remus had always been in his dreams, always! A shadowy figure in the background hovering at the edge of conscious thought or unconscious memory, Lupin had been with him for years, Severus realised. When things became too unpleasant that figure had always been able to protect him, cover him in an invisible shield that allowed Severus to get some sleep each night. Now he knew what it was, what he had called his protective mind trick; it was even more terrifying than the dreams. A person, a real person, lived in his head like a stray weed that grew despite him.

And his dreams were changing!

One kiss from Remus Lupin had completely destroyed the wall he had managed to erect around every emotion he ever had, except anger. It wasn't even as if it was a passionate kiss, just a light brushing of lips, a kiss between friends, but the effects....

Ah, the effects!

Night after night for the last three weeks it had come. Beginning with that soft, gentle kiss that plucked every chord in his heart, it had worked outward. There were always scenes of a normal family life, of Remus feeding him some sort of treat, chocolate probably, knowing Lupin. But how did he know Remus Lupin? He knew very little about the werewolf if the truth be told, nothing more personal than a few rather intense discussions when they were at school on such subjects as the effectiveness of various potions on non-humans. There had been a few hurried exchanges of information when they had both worked in the Order, nothing even vaguely sexual or even interactive, Severus recalled.

Oh, once he had caught Remus weeping in the bathroom not long after Sirius went through the veil at the Ministry, but the werewolf had quickly turned away and left hurriedly without even the most rudimentary exchange of words. It certainly didn't account for the utter certainty he felt when he connected Remus Lupin and hot chocolate, specifically Molly Weasley's rich, marshmallow-laden cocoa with extra cream and sugar.

And music, there was always music and laughter and dancing in the dreams, and he was doing some of the dancing and laughing and singing! Not the dignified measures that were taught to the children of polite society but the common Muggle inspired type that were all abandon and excitement. It was terrifying!

He dreamed of a smallish room with grimy wallpaper, old furniture and a cobwebby window that was so dirty one couldn't see out of it. But he didn't care! Inside the room had been full of laugher and light, love even, although how Severus Snape recognised the emotion, he did not know. There was a girl, Tonks, he thought, teasing and laughing and shimmying between himself and Remus Lupin, playful. They had belted out the lyrics to some Muggle song or other, bumping hips and acting like utter fools, making up moves as they went along.

There were quiet times in the same room too, when the music was soft and beautiful, someone reading to him in an expressive and evocative way. It was enough to bring tears to Severus' eyes, even as just a memory. He often woke with a damp pillow and dried salt tracks on his face. He thought he recognised some of the music but when he tried to find it in reality, he could not. No wizarding music shop could accommodate him. The music and the reading were always pleasant, soft dreams that allowed him to wake well rested and - Merlin forgive him -- almost cheerful.

Then there was the sex.

Severus prided himself on knowing good sex when he encountered it. After all, he usually paid for the best and expected to receive it. However, in his dreams he got perfect sex, hot and hard or soft and sweet. His partner was as adventurous and as versatile as Severus, revelling in trying new things and new positions, matching him idea for idea. And his tongue! That tongue seemed to be a foot long and as strong as a hand, flexible and talented and always very satisfying. The only problem was being unable to see whom it was he was buggering or being buggered by. Oh, he knew the man was hairy, small and muscled, but so terribly scarred that it made Severus want to weep to imagine the pain behind those myriad scars. But he couldn't see his face, no matter how he tried. Sometimes he thought he saw a pair of lambent amber eyes, a poetic phrase that seemed so appropriate when those glowing gentle eyes were upon him.

He surged to his feet and paced his hearthrug with short, choppy steps so unlike his usual graceful glide, arms wrapped tightly around his chest. Why couldn't he remember his lover? It was nothing like being Obliviated. That left traces he was very well aware of. No, this was as if his own mind was holding the memories prisoner and it had to do with that terrifying walled off spot in the centre of his psyche.

On the downside of the dreams, he kept reliving the night Remus Lupin nearly made him into werewolf shit. The fangs, the blue glow of his eyes, the strings of drool flying back in the ferocity of his need to savage and rend. Unfortunately, in his dreams Severus was not saved, James Potter did not drag him out of harm's way and the wolf took him, tearing the Dark Mark off his arm with bloody satisfaction, tossing him into living terror.

That was one of the oddest aspects of the dreams, or nightmares, Severus shook his head in puzzled disgust. When the wolf hit him, he was catapulted into the dankness and darkness of Snape Manor surrounded by gloating, laughing figures, his father, uncles and cousins hemming him in on all sides. The scene was of the final beating that drove him to seek external as well as personal power, and inevitably, Tom Riddle's Death Eaters.

"We've heard rumours about you, Boy," his father purred softly, grabbing a handful of his hair and dragging his head back so that his neck felt it was going to break. "You've been doing dirty things with other filthy boys, haven't you? Letting them do dirty things to you too, I'll be bound. I told you last time I caught you abusing yourself that I wouldn't stand for it ever again. One of these days you are going to produce for us a real heir to the fortune and I will not let your interest in your own sex jeopardise that for any thing. I swore that if you ever went near a boy again I would punish you. You know I am a man of my word, and that I am going to have to punish you don't you? And there is nothing you can do to stop me, is there?"

There had been nothing Severus could do at sixteen years old to stop the horrendous beating his father had administered, one of the worst ever. Someone had obviously told his father he was exclusively homosexual, something no pureblood was allowed to be as it reduced the number of children born and did not produce heirs. His father's magic and his own terror had held him immobilised while the whip took the skin off his back. No whipping curses for his father, just plain, old fashioned exertion and enjoyment of the exercise. His uncles had stood aside and let it happen, one or two looking uncomfortably, the rest feeding on his pain like the vampires they resembled. He knew he'd screamed his throat raw and ripped by the time his father finished, reeling away purple in the face and gloating as he stood back. Tossing the plaited leather whip aside, he had snatched up a plain pottery jar and giggled as he tossed a handful of white powder over Severus' lacerated back. Plain old fashioned salt made the pain grow ten fold, glowing white and stealing his last shreds of control away.

Severus mewled as he jerked out of his light dose and pushed the scene away; forcing it back below the level of consciousness, back into the depths of his psyche where it could be chained in the darkness again. He was losing his mind! Worse! He was losing control of his mind, and his thoughts, and his libido, and it was entirely that bloody werewolf's fault. Damn him to Hell!

A flick of his hand opened the door and Severus stormed down to his workroom to wrench open the door. Scrabbling through the racked potions in the cupboard, Severus found what he was looking for and gripped it in his fist hard enough to cause the edges of the vial to cut into his flesh. A cauldron simmering gently on its caminus spell caused him to pause and glare bitterly. The werewolves had even invaded his private space with their constant presence. The Wolfsbane potion sent its distinctive fumes through the laboratory, making his eyes water and his temper boil. Damn them all to Hell!

Slamming out of the workroom, Severus muttered the locking spell and made his own locking gesture without thinking about it. He stormed back to his own quarters and locked the door behind him. Barely pausing to think, he stripped off his clothes and left them in an untidy pile on the floor as he climbed into bed. Flicking the seal open on the small vial, he measured a dose into the water glass he always had by the bed and downed the lot. Draught of the Living Dead only took a few minutes to work, just enough time to put the vial and the goblet back on the table and pull the covers up to his chin. 'No bad dreams for Sevvy tonight,' he thought grimly as the familiar spinning feeling dragged him into sleep.

~~*~~

"Attention people. Tonight it is full moon and I want those of you who are on duty near the Isle of Cardoul to be particularly vigilant. There is word that a pack of wild wolves are about to stir up trouble for the residents," Kingsley Shacklebolt announced to the team of Aurors gathered in the briefing room. "I do not want you to pick trouble with the residents but I do want you all to be particularly vigilant for the interference from outside sources."

"How do you tell the difference?" Rodney Talbot asked with a grin at his seat mates.

"If the wolf is on the island, but not in the safe house, then it is not causing trouble. If it is on the mainland and not in a safe area, then it is probably going to cause trouble," Shacklebolt recited grimly. "A number of werewolves have gone missing over the past year, some of them respectable members of both their human and wolf communities. We need to be on the look-out for people causing trouble for the wolves, as well as wolves causing trouble for the human communities."

"What about those out on the moors? The wolves that gather there are not wild ones, or even particularly savage ones," Fiona McDonald asked sensibly, ignoring the sniggers from certain people at the back of the hall.

"The moors are designated safe areas on our maps and have Muggle repellent charms that activate at dusk on the full moon. Our biggest problem are those idiot Muggles who have been fell walking or camping on the moors, and are trapped inside the charmed circles. The teams assigned to protect them should be in place by mid afternoon."

"Sir, while we are assembled, can I ask what became of the hides that were confiscated in the raids on the smugglers and how come they stayed as hides rather than reverting to human skins?" Garth Rice asked, pushing his glasses up with an air of academic curiosity.

"Seven of the ten have been identified by various key members of the packs and given a decent burial. We are holding the other three until they too can be identified. As for how it's done, good question. If you figure it out, be sure to let the rest of us know. So people, let's have a safe and incident free full moon. Dismissed."

The fifteen Aurors shuffled out, one thinking rude thoughts about the waste of perfectly good hides as they mouldered away in the ground. The potions the damned wolves had be given were expensive but there again werewolf hides were very valuable and more than made up for the outlay, usually. It had been sheer bad luck that the shipment had been intercepted and only because a stupid crup had reacted badly to the werewolf stench from the bundle. Damned interfering Muggle ideas! The next shipment would only be two hides and they would be very carefully packed in charmed containers that wouldn't let out any scent at all!