What It Takes

CHAPTER FIVE: WHISPERS IN THE NIGHT

It was nothing new. In his state of half-sleep, Remus always thought of Sirius.

More often than not, the Sirius of years long past dominated his memories. He thought of the various moments they had shared--adventures as Marauders in their Hogwarts days, nights in their humble London flat after graduation, the night Lily and James had died, which had been the last time Remus had seen Sirius before...before Azkaban.

Yet sometimes, he could picture Sirius in his dark, damp prison cell. It wasn't something he wanted to think on, no more than he wanted to think on the night Sirius had gone through the Veil. And many times, that painful memory crept into his mind as well--Sirius' wasted expression, Bellatrix's shrill cry of triumph, and Remus himself having to hold back tears as he explained to Harry that Sirius wasn't coming back, that he was....

"Sirius is gone," he whispered to himself, as if the empty space next to him wasn't enough to convince him of that.

And it was inevitably the Veil that Remus saw in his mind that night as he drifted off to sleep. The ragged cloth swayed, as if caught in a breeze, from the sturdy stone arch. But there was no one, only a soft blue light shining through from the other side, and the familiar sound of the whispers of the dead. It was haunting, and in no pleasant sort of way. The dead were not meant to speak, not like this, not at all.

Not gone, Remus....

At first, he thought he had imagined the voice, just like all the other times it had come. But something was different. This voice sounded too real, as if it had come from someone next to him. Or someone...inside him.

"Sirius?" he whispered hopefully. "Sirius, is that you?"

"Remus?" The voice seemed as astonished and befuddled as Remus himself was. "How...how can it be?"

Remus felt tears welling up in his eyes, and he did not stop them from flowing freely. Was he dreaming? Merlin, he hoped not. For this to have been a dream would have been wholly unfair. The fates were not as cruel as that, were they?

"You're wearing it, aren't you, Sirius? The Binding Band?"

Silence, and then--"Yes, but...Oh! I...I didn't even think of...Remus, are you crying?"

The werewolf wiped his teary eyes with a naked forearm. "I'm sorry, it's just...Oh, Sirius! I thought I'd never hear your voice again! Where are you? The Veil of Mysteries, it's a portal to...to death...isn't it?"

He heard Sirius sigh. "In a way," he answered, "but not in the way you think. This isn't death in a conventional sense. This isn't Heaven or Hell. It's just...souls...wandering. Everyone talks, but no one really says a thing here."

Remus swallowed the lump in his throat before asking the question he was almost certain he knew the answer to already. "You can't come back, can you?"

"No," Sirius whispered. "No, I can't. Believe me, Remus, if I could have done it, I would've in a heartbeat. But there is no return from the World of the Dead. It's...There's no one here, not really. I try to talk, but no one seems to understand or to even hear me. It's like...like...."

Like Azkaban, Remus thought to himself. Death, like the dementors, had sucked humanity from the souls in the World of the Dead. But Sirius, just as he had in Azkaban, seemed to have somehow resisted this force. Leave it to Sirius; who else would have been strong enough to withstand even Death itself?

"I miss you, Padfoot," Remus whispered. He was crying again, although not as violently as he had been before. "I've spent every night since you've been gone just wishing I could have you back again. It's all in vain, of course, but I wish it wasn't. I love you, Sirius. I know you know that, but I have to say it, because I never thought I'd be saying it to you again. I can't stand this, Sirius. I need you!"

Sirius laughed sadly. "Don't say things like that," he said. Remus had the impression that Sirius too was crying, if such a thing were possible. "I can't change what happened, Remus. What do you want me to say? That I love you, too? You know I do. You know I always have and always will. But how's all that going to comfort you? I wish there was something I could do, Remus, some way for me to get back to you. But I can't, and I'm sorry...."

What had Remus done? Sirius was apologizing? And for what, dying? No, this hardly seemed fair. He hadn't meant to do this, had he? To throw himself, sobbing and pleading, before a man who was no longer even alive, really? Truthfully, he didn't know, precisely, what it was he'd meant to do. He hadn't even expected to hear Sirius on the other end, had he?

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, love," he whispered. "You died protecting Harry. If that's not a noble cause, then I don't know what is. That's one thing I always loved about you, Sirius, that you were always willing to defend anyone you cared for, be it your friends or the entire wizarding race or simply your godson."

A brief silence followed before Sirius spoke again. "How...how is he?" he asked. "Harry...is he alright?"

"He's fine," answered Remus. "He's weary, and he's quiet, and I'm fairly certain that he's missing you like hell, but he's fine. As a matter of fact, Dumbledore inducted him into the Order of the Phoenix just this evening, along with the Weasley twins. He'll be starting up Occlumency with Snape again very soon, which I already know he isn't thrilled about. But it's for the best. He's going to be fine, Sirius, just fine."

"And what about Voldemort?"

Remus shuttered at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. "Alive," he answered tensely. "No one's certain where, exactly. But a number of Death Eaters have been captured and sent to Azkaban, including Lucius Malfoy."

"And Bellatrix?"

Remus shook his head, but realized that Sirius could not see this. "Escaped..." he growled. "After she...killed you, Harry went after her. I tried to stop him. It's really a wonder the boy didn't get himself killed."

He heard the pleasantly familiar sound of Sirius' laughter. "That boy!" Sirius chuckled. "He really is just like James, isn't he? Leave it to Harry to go chasing after a witch who's just escaped from Azkaban!"

"I should have done it," Remus muttered, his eyelids fluttering. "I should have killed her. It would have been the least I could have done. I'm a bloody coward...."

"No," said Sirius insistently, "you're not! Remus, killing her would not have brought me back. You want revenge? Make them all pay for what they've done! Think of all the hundreds of wizards and Muggles alike that the Death Eaters have killed. If you're going to avenge one death, you must avenge them all."

Remus did not answer. In the darkness, the sound of Sirius' voice was almost enough to make him believe that the man was actually lying in the shadows, only inches away from him. His mind battled with reality and, when he reached out to touch what he could have sworn was Sirius' face and found nothing, lost.

"You're tired, aren't you?" said Sirius gently. "What time is it there? Is it late?"

"Almost one in the morning."

Sirius sighed. "Get some rest, Moony."

"No..." Remus protested, yawning. "No, I don't want to leave you."

"I'm here," Sirius whispered. "I'm not going anywhere, not as long as you have your Binding Band. We've got forever, Moony. That's what we always said, wasn't it?"

Remus laughed lightly. "I never knew how true it would be. Sirius, I love you."

"I know," came Sirius' reply. "I love you, too. Now get some rest."

Remus' eyes shut for a final time as he let his head sink back into his thick pillow. He'd known it all along--the only way he'd ever be able to sleep was if Sirius was with him. And finally, feeling Sirius' presence as strongly as ever, Remus Lupin drifted off into the soundest, happiest slumber he'd known in two very long months.

***

"Potter, you were supposed to be ready for lessons at ten!"

Snape's booming, thunderous voice jolted Harry out of a dreamless sleep. His back was facing the door, and for that he was thankful. He had absolutely no desire to wake up to the face of a cross, pompous git at--What time was it? He glanced at the alarm clock on Ron's side of the room.

"Noon already?" he grumbled.

"Yes! Noon, Potter!" Snape growled. "I have no intention of ever again spending another perfectly good morning waiting around on you to crawl out of bed. Dumbledore might believe that the sun rises and sets for you alone, but I most certainly do not! Now, get out of bed this instant, or we are through with Occlumency!"

Part of Harry wanted to tell Snape that the suggestion was quite alright with him. Nothing could put Harry in an angry, miserable state quite like Occlumency could. He knew better, though, than to even think for a second of giving it up. This was his duty to the Order of the Phoenix. But did it have to involve Snape? Why couldn't Dumbledore have taught him? Or Remus, even? Remus was a very powerful wizard; surely he knew something about Occlumency....

Harry rolled over to face Snape. The man stood leaning against the doorframe, donning his customary full black and an also-customary sour expression. He wasn't sure why Snape even bothered to go through the motions of teaching him Occlumency. Even after three weeks of lessons, Harry's skill in the practice was still practically nonexistent. Sure, he'd thrown Snape off a few attempts at Legilimency, but so what? He'd been able to do that in their first go-round of lessons at Hogwarts. But to clear his mind entirely, to block Snape from entering his thoughts at every attempt--that was something Harry had yet to master.

The next half-hour found Harry on his knees on the floor of the drawing room. Snape towered over him, growling the most furious, scathing remarks he could manage.

"Potter, are you a complete imbecile?" he thundered. "That would have been wonderful work if I'd instructed you to stand there like a dunce and feed me your thoughts! You didn't even bother to strike out against me! Honestly, Potter, where is your mind?"

Harry did not answer. He had nothing to say to Snape, and even if he had, his jaw was clenched too tightly for him to so much as open his mouth. His chest was heaving, and his scar was burning as painfully as it ever had.

Suddenly, a long pale hand shot in front of his face.

"Get up, Potter!" Snape hissed. Grudgingly, Harry accepted the hand offered to him, shuddering at the roughness of the callused state of it, and rose to his feet.

When he looked at Snape again, he realized that his Potions Master was smiling. "You know, Potter," he said, "I'm beginning to like that cousin of yours more and more. Tied you to a tire and rolled you down the hill, did he? It's a shame the boy's a Muggle...he'd make an excellent Slytherin."

Harry didn't doubt that for a second.

"Now, Potter," said Snape, resuming his harsh tones and taking his wand off the sofa cushion, "do you think you could possibly manage to feign an attempt at not being an absolute disgrace at Occlumency? Really, we must make some progress soon. Otherwise, Dumbledore's likely to toss you out of the Order, and that would be a shame, wouldn't it?"

Harry sensed the sarcasm in Snape's words and was surprised to find that he was not all that infuriated. Of course, sarcasm was nothing new from Professor Snape. He'd endured it for five long years. How much could it hurt now?

"Alright," said Harry wearily. "Let's have another go."

Snape nodded and extended his wand in front of him. Harry stood braced, preparing himself for the rush of painful memories that was likely to come at any moment.

"Legilimens!"

Snape's form disappeared from in front of him. He saw a dementor, hovering over a terrified Dudley in the alleyway, prepared to suck the soul from his bloody stout body.

Suddenly the Room of Requirement appeared. Harry heard Zacharias Smith's incessant whining about how ridiculous it was to expect a teenage boy to be able to produce a Patronus.

Cho Chang had managed to send a silver cloud out of her wand--it would be a full-fledged Patronus in a matter of weeks. Surprisingly, the memory of Cho held little significance for Harry. He would have expected to feel something, anything, but not...nothing.

His mind went blank for a moment, and then he saw before him the stone dais, the archway, and the tattered black Veil of Mysteries. He watched as Sirius and Bellatrix Lestrange moved up the steps, facing one another, saw the jet of red light shoot from Bellatrix's wand. And then...Sirius' face as he....

No, not that one! Stay the hell away from that memory, you horrid git!

"Protego!" Harry heard himself shout. He could see Snape in front of him again, could see the look of utter surprise on the man's face before unfamiliar memories came racing into his mind.

He was in a darkened room--a living room, he thought. A handsome young man, no more than twenty-five, stood behind a table, holding his wand out in front of him as if prepared for battle.

"Orlando," someone whispered. Harry turned slightly to find a significantly younger Severus Snape backed against a far wall, looking utterly terrified. "Orlando, please listen to me! Listen! I can't--"

"I trusted you, Severus!" the young man hissed, rounding on Snape suddenly. "And all this time, you've been playing both sides, haven't you? Going behind the Dark Lord's back, feeding those damned Muggle-loving wizards all the information you could!"

Tears were rolling down Snape's cheeks. He shook his head violently. "No, Orlando, I...."

"Don't you dare lie to me, Severus!" Orlando shrieked, his wand now inches away from Snape's chest. "I mean it! I loved you, but I am a Death Eater first and foremost. But you! You are nothing but a traitor and a coward, and rest assured the Dark Lord will be given this information!"

Snape's expression transformed suddenly from fear to anger. "You wouldn't dare!" he spat. "You would hand my life over to him without a second thought? Without even listening to me? What kind of love is that, Orlando?"

The man's glare was unwavering. "I told you," he whispered, "that I am a Death Eater first and foremost. My loyalties lie with Voldemort and our cause!"

A loud crack issued from somewhere inside the house. Orlando spun on his heels, and as he did so, Snape raised his wand to the man.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted, and instantly a beam of green light shot from his wand, sending Orlando's wasted body to the floor.

Snape looked utterly horrified. For a moment, he did not move. Footsteps issued from nearby, from a hallway, perhaps. Another man appeared suddenly in the room, a man Harry recognized as Frank Longbottom. Snape's eyes shot to him, then began to spout tears once more.

"You're alright, Severus?" asked Mr. Longbottom quietly. "Dumbledore sent me...sensed you might be in trouble...."

Snape looked at Orlando's body once again. "I...killed him," he whispered, more to himself than to Mr. Longbottom. "I...I didn't mean to do it. He knew, Frank. I don't know how. He knew I was working for the Order. He...he threatened to tell Voldemort. I didn't know what else to do...."

"Shh...it's alright, Severus," said Mr. Longbottom. "Go see Dumbledore. Tell him what's happened. You can come back with me, if you want."

Snape shook his head and knelt on the floor beside Orlando's body. "I don't.... Go on ahead, Frank. I'm fine. Just tell Dumbledore I'll be there in a few moments."

Frank Longbottom smiled sadly, nodded, and then disapparated, leaving Snape alone to let his tears flow more freely. A shaking hand reached for the back of Orlando's neck. Snape turned the man over then, so that his empty eyes were gazing up at him. He ran one finger gently across the young man's sleek jawline, then lifted the head onto his lap.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, sobbing. He lowered his lips to Orlando's, then gently kissed the dead man. "I'm so sorry. I love you, Orlando."

As Snape pulled his face away, Harry felt as though he was falling backward through an empty space. The image faded as his back smacked into something very hard. He shook his head furiously, then blinked to find Snape towering over him again, this time donning an expression of unparalleled anger.

"That's why!" Harry exclaimed without meaning to. "That's why Dumbledore trusts you...because you've killed to defend the Order!"

"How dare you, you impudent brat!" Snape thundered. He yanked Harry up by his shirtfront and hurled him onto the sofa. "I don't remember telling you to reverse the spell! You're supposed to keep me out of your thoughts, not plunder through mine!"

"Too bad you don't have the luxury of a Pensieve away from Hogwarts," Harry hissed, realizing what a horrible thing it had been to say only a moment after the words had left his lips.

"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, POTTER, BEFORE I'M OVERCOME WITH THE URGE TO FORCE A LITER OF POISON PAST THAT INSOLENT TONGUE OF YOURS!"

With his jaw clenched once again, Harry rose from the couch. He wanted to say something, something to make up for his cruelty, something to convey sympathy in regards to everything he'd just seen, but Snape's glare made it absolutely impossible.

"And Potter," said Snape suddenly as Harry's hand reached for the knob of the door. "Don't even think of uttering a word of what you've seen to anyone! Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," Harry muttered, and with that he slipped as quickly as he possibly could out of the drawing room and down the hall to his own bedroom.

Although Snape's memory had been wholly terrifying, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of power knowing all he now knew about his Potions professor. So Snape had killed. It wasn't a complete shock to Harry; he would never have put such a think past the Slytherin Head of House. But the piece of knowledge that surprised Harry the most was the one thing he would never, even in his wildest dreams, have expected--

Severus Snape fancied men.

***

The robed Death Eaters in Knockturn Alley had all dispersed. This evening's meeting, led by none other than Lucius Malfoy, was finished, and the group of wizards that had consisted of some fifty or sixty moments ago had dwindled down to only two young men. One's hair was golden-blonde and slightly wavy, and his small eyes were a bright, brilliant green; the other had sleek black hair, sharp, pale features, and a hooked nose.

"Home, then, Severus?"

The dark-haired man grabbed him by the hand and smiled slyly as he guided him into a darkened side street between two brick buildings.

"I can't wait that long," he whispered, his lips grazing the fair-haired man's cheek as he spoke. "I need you now, Orlando."

They were eyelash-close now, Snape's lean body sealing Orlando's perfectly against the side of the building. Their hands roamed, over faces, arms, chests, wherever they could put them. Snape gasped, looked up hungrily into his lover's eyes, then trailed his gaze downward.

"Is that for me?" he said, laughing huskily.

Orlando moaned against him. "It's certainly not for anybody else...."

For a moment, it seemed that they breathed the same breath. And then there wasn't even that breath between them. Snape's mouth closed over Orlando's, kissing him ferociously. He pulled Orlando as close as he could, lifted him off the ground, practically. Their tongues wrestled, tasting, exploring.

"Help me out, won't you?" groaned Orlando, directing Snape's hand to his groin.

"Mmm, with pleasure...."

Snape trailed his kisses along Orlando's neck, tasting and loving the heat of his skin. His hands began an assault on the man's robe, fumbling to unfasten the onyx buttons. Triumphant, he slid the robe off and cast it aside.

"Turn around," Snape whispered breathlessly, and Orlando complied. Somehow, Snape's lips were able to hold their spot on his neck. Orlando braced himself against the brick wall in front of him, waiting. Snape fumbled with the buttons of Orlando's trousers for a moment, then mastered his own more efficiently.

Snape reached down and directed himself inside his lover, whose mouth formed a tight O as he gasped and gripped harder at the brick wall. As he began to thrust, Snape sucked at the tender flesh of Orlando's throat, gently at first, then harder as his gasps for breath became more rapid. His long, pale fingers dug into Orlando's shoulders, as if he would vanish forever were he to let go.

"Love you," Snape grunted. His chest heaved, and he cleaved to Orlando as if the world would unravel by a loose thread if he were to let go. His movements became more rapid. Orlando was moving now, too, pressing backward into him.

"Merlin!" Orlando hissed. "Oh...Severus...Severus...."

Harry! Wake up, Harry! HARRY!

Harry jolted awake with a grunt. His breathing was unnaturally rapid, and his body was covered in a film of sweat and...Merlin, what was that? But his didn't need to ask the question, really. The moment his shaking hand swiped through the thick, sticky fluid on his belly, he realized precisely what had happened.

"What?" he whispered into the dark.

"You alright, mate?" Ron moaned from across the room. "You woke me up, moaning in your sleep like mad. I was starting to worry 'bout you."

"Nightmare," Harry muttered, but he knew the minute the word escaped his lips that it was a terrible lie.

CHAPTER SIX: THE SHADOW

A gentle breeze blew across his face, through his untidy mane. The smell of cold leather was startlingly familiar, as was the strong, solid body around which his arms were wrapped. Several strands of silky black hair had blown loose from the ponytail in front of him--that was familiar, too--and were now whipping him lightly in the face.

Suddenly, he felt himself jolt backwards, then up into the night sky. He tightened his grip on the body in front of him as they left the forest trail behind and rose above the treetops.

"Where are we going?" he shouted over the loud hum of the Shadow's engine.

"You'll see!" Sirius shouted back.

Remus laughed. "Alright, but how did we get here?"

"What?"

"I said, how did we--"

"Hold on a sec, Moony!"

The bike began its slow descent. They were headed, as far as Remus could tell, straight toward a grassy clearing in the middle of the forest that was set very close to a small brook. As they came closer to the ground, Remus could smell, as if the wolf were at work, each and every part of the forest--the trees, the flowers, the animals, the fresh water, even the fertile soil below the grass on which they were landing.

Sirius shut off the bike and forced down the kickstand with one booted foot. "What were you asking, Moony?"

Remus hopped off the back of the bike. "How did we get here?"

Sirius shrugged. "It's like a dream, really," he said. "One feature of the Binding Bands, kicks in once a strong mind bond has been formed between the two wearing the Bands. It works very much the same. I mean, all we're really doing is talking to one another. But we can create the places where we talk, too."

"But it feels so...so real!" said Remus. And it did. The air was warm and a bit humid against his skin. He could still feel the gentle vibrations of the flying motorbike beneath him. This was vastly different from any dream he'd ever had.

Sirius merely smirked. "I know. Cool, isn't it?"

With an ease that belonged to Sirius alone, he shrugged off his leather jacket and let it fall to the ground below. This was the Sirius that Remus wanted to remember--vibrant, youthful, filled with a zealous lust for life. His face and body were not worn from years of Azkaban's tortures. His bright blue eyes seemed to shine with a blinding brilliant light. Remus watched as he lifted one casual hand to the nape of his neck and slipped off the rubber band holding his hair back, causing his shining ebony mane to cascade around his face with all the beauty and romantic grace of some rebel prince. But wasn't that what Sirius Black had always been, a rebel prince?

Remus took careful steps toward Sirius, who did not move. He reached out hesitantly, then brushed his knuckles against a pliant but stubbly cheek. Sirius moaned at the touch.

"Sirius," Remus whispered, his breath catching in his throat, "this is all...far too real...to ever really be a dream."

Sirius cocked his head. "How so?"

"I...I don't know...." Remus replied, peering into the forest briefly before returning his attention to Sirius. "It's just...I can feel everything as if I'm actually here. I don't just mean sight and smell and touch and hearing and all that. I mean, I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, my head swimming, my hands shaking--all those things that only you could ever make me feel."

Sirius made no attempt to suppress a self-assured, triumphant smile. "It's just love, isn't it? What's so bad about that?"

"And you can do the same?"

"Oh, yes. Very acutely," he said, blushing a little, Remus thought. "Why?"

Remus shook his head. "Nothing, it's just...."

"What, Moony?"

Remus sighed. "I don't know. It's just...if I can see you and I can smell you and I touch you and feel all these things, and you can do the same, then can we...you know...."

Sirius raised his eyebrows and failed an attempt at coyness. "Can we what, Remus?"

"Can we...make love?"

Much to Remus' surprise, there was no cocky smirk on Sirius' face. He merely moved forward, closing the gap between Remus and himself, then pressed his lips to Remus'. Merlin, it was all so real, so delightfully familiar. And to think, he thought he would never feel this again. But Sirius was here. Sirius was as real as anything else around him. And it had happened, the very thing that had always happened whenever Sirius kissed him--he had come alive.

"Oh, Moony," Sirius whispered, pulling Remus' shirt up over his head. "I thought you'd never ask!"