Suspected

"Who, Albus?" McGonagall asked quietly, her face turned down, her eyes twisted closed. An expression of pain had etched itself into her features, deepening the lines on her forehead.

"Edgar, for sure. Alastor retrieved his body this morning," Dumbledore said, his voice controlled. "And we haven't been able to contact Benjy."

He stood silent at the head of a long table, his hands clasped tightly at his waist. His eyes were dead as they followed each face to the next, slipping into a rhythm that said more of the dreadful situation than any newspaper report. The Daily Prophet lay open on the table, its headline blaring, "Werewolf Attacks in Dublin!" in bold letters.

"It must have been one of us!" James said urgently, his fist slamming into his plate, splattering bits of his kidney pie. "Someone must have told him about our position!" His eyes darted maliciously to Snape, his face contorted in rage.

Snape just glared back, but Remus could see his hand moving to his pocket, his fingers most likely wrapping around his wand. He was very vindictive in his actions, his eyes slowly moving to stare at Remus. Bastard.

A few people mumbled, and Remus heard the accusation on their lips, the sibilant words slithering from their tongues and becoming cruel untruths. He felt like clawing their eyes out - the same eyes that now stared at him with deep questioning and determination to extract the truth.

Remus knew it was only a matter of time before he was thrown out completely - thrown out like a dog, a disloyal dog at that. They'd kick him in the stomach, swear and curse and forget that he had a heart, had some sort of a soul under the beast, under their traitorous opinion of him.

He only felt the chipped teacup in his hands, cold and bitter like the liquid that had dripped down and stained the floral sides. He knew all the sugar was on the bottom of the cup, but he took a sip anyway. Nerves made him shake, quiver in his broken and worn chair no matter how hard he tried to mold himself into a more respectable state.

He flinched silently, damning himself for not telling everyone around the table to just shut-the-fuck-up. He was a damn Gryffindor for Christ's sake! He should at least be brave - because glory was all that mattered in this war, anyway. Who was the most heroic, who was going to be the winner - take all the more dangerous assignments and have his face smacked on the cover of the Daily Prophet with a big, ridiculous medal around his neck.

Assignments like school, Remus thought as his cheeks flushed, the whispers around the table becoming louder and more persistent, because he was still taking orders from the same people who had ordered him around when he was fucking fifteen years old, when he was still wanking with shame because he didn't imagine women with bouncing tits and soaked knickers.

He was just so angry - how could they accuse him of such a deed? How could they when he had played their pet for so many years? When he had played Sirius' pet, because, damnit, if anyone should have known that Remus wasn't a traitor, it should have been Sirius.

~*~

The pub reeked of smoke and mildew, and the unwashed mug was sticky against his fingers. He had made an uncomfortable dent in the old seat, the cushion pressing down into the wood-lining at the bottom. The room was divided in shadows; the more lighted booths were filled with the proud, and the bar and single tables were occupied with people like Remus, people who didn't fear anything but their own conscience.

He was a single man, a lonely man. Even the air around him stood as a cage, sucking in happiness like a dementor, repelling people as they walked by. Remus knew he was an attractive man, but he also knew he couldn't allow people to get too close, especially people who approached him on their own terms.

He also knew why he was there, sitting alone like some drunken tramp, trying not to stare at this one particular man.

A well-dressed man, with a smooth leather coat and gloves to match laying beside his drink. A clean-shaven man, whose smile made Remus cringe at his own repugnance. Sensing peppermint, he could almost smell the man's breath, the refreshing air sliding down his throat, emptying into his aching stomach. He had bright, black hair - bright because the strands caught and held the electric light with an odd shine. Brows thick and expressive, chin delicate and skin so incredibly clean it made Remus want to run home and stand under the shower until he had washed away all his deceit and hunger and that blooming arousal in the pit of his stomach, pressing, swirling - demanding.

Remus' mouth was dry and sticky, his numb lips gulping down some of the room-temperature beer. He suddenly wanted to be inside the man, slick and accepted, becoming familiar with him from the inside, allowing himself to release and sweat and not care for one fucking second what the world thought of him.

Feeling the burn of Remus' stare, the man glanced over at the bar. Remus silently cursed himself as their eyes locked, and he wished he had shaved or bathed or done something to his unkempt hair, for the man smiled at him, lifting his glass up in an introducing toast. Remus didn't even try to grab his drink in time to toast the man back; he only smiled back softly, hoping his expression didn't seem forced.

The man looked away and Remus felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment. He didn't know why either - there was nothing wrong about making eye-contact with another man from across the room. And anyway, Remus thought as he shifted in his seat, he'd have to wait until he found enough courage to approach him. He liked when his lovers never spoke, and the man was just not drunk enough yet.

Turning his attention back to his drink, Remus frowned down at his hands, picking at some of the dirt that was under his fingernails. A lonely, concerned feeling began to creep into his mind, forcing him to remember the night's events. He could still see James wrapping a protective arm around Lily, their faces turned away as if his own stare condemned and murdered. Sirius was there as well, with his lidded eyes blinking at his feet instead of meeting Remus' protesting, pleading expression.

Tears stung his eyes, but Remus was too proud to openly wipe them away. He gritted his teeth, the vision of his lap blurring, his head hanging and his shoulders slumped. His whole world seemed to be falling apart, with everything he had thought indestructible collapsing around him. He felt like a young boy again, sitting alone by a window and watching the other children play, just watching because everyone knew he was too weak, too strange to approach.

But this time his friends stayed away because he was dangerous - a traitor with nothing but loneliness to lose.

Remus' eyes burned, and he brought a dirty palm up to rub at the irritation. The motion made the coating on his eyes itch, watering and swelling. He blinked a few times, pausing to stare at a group of middle-aged businessmen who wore polyester suits turned down, their sleeves rolled up to the elbow, exposing hairy arms. They were drunkenly cheering each other on, rambunctious and carefree.

Someone opened the pub's door behind Remus, a gush of autumn wind hitting the back of his neck, his uncut hair brushing the sides of his face. He turned his slanted gaze toward the door, searching for whoever had entered. All he could make out was a shadow - a figure stopping just before the light of the first booth, fitting his back into the corner. Remus squinted, sensing the figure's gaze upon him, observing with quiet, but strong eyes.

It moved to sit at the other side of the bar, and Remus recognised the figure as a man with his prominent nose filtered by lank, hanging hair. For a split second his chest heaved, beer splurting from his mouth. It couldn't be Snape . . . Remus gulped down more of his beer, watching as the man ordered a drink and settled down into a seat. His suspicion grew, and he wondered if Snape had ever stepped foot into a muggle bar before, if his father's well-known alcoholism hadn't deterred him from drink altogether.

The man caught Remus' gaze, and they stared at each other, connected in silent interest. Remus shuddered, the man's eyes slicing into him, unexpectedly warming him from the inside. The glass shook as Remus finished his drink and it slipped from his grasp as he set it down. Leaving some money on the table, he passed the man on the way to the door, feeling the stare burning into the back of his head.

Remus stopped behind the tarnished door of the pub, waiting for the man to follow. A few moments later the stranger walked out, wrapping his coat firmly around his lithe frame, his hooked nose prominent between his two small eyes. Remus' breath caught in this throat, his mind stunned and strangely expectant.

"Lupin," Snape spat, his eyes fierce. He folded his arms across his chest, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

"What are you doing here, Snape?"

Snape shrugged. "No reason that concerns you."

Remus stared at him, suspicion smeared across his features. "Were you following me?" he asked, his eyes narrowing, his brow creased. He thought it was very unlikely that Snape could have accidently walked into the same pub as him, a muggle pub at that.

Snape glared at him. "Why would I want to follow you? A werewolf."

Remus rolled his eyes. He paused, thinking - questioning. "Do you think I'm behind the attacks?"

"It wouldn't surprise me." Snape uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. "But, I assume that I would know if you were."

Remus let out a sardonic laugh, his voice chipped and rough. "Oh, of course you would know - a Death Eater. You were probably there - watching Edgar as he was tortured to death!"

Snape was silent, but his burning eyes searched Remus' face. "Dumbledore trusts me. I think that is more than could be said about you."

Remus gaped at Snape, his stomach falling. "What do you mean?"

"Your friends aren't the only ones who are suspicious."

"Shut up!" An incredible anger began to boil deep inside Remus, his arms shaking, his head throbbing. "You have no fucking idea what James and Sirius think!"

"I didn't come here to argue with you," Snape said, taking a step back, his expression suddenly uncertain. His hand fingered the outline of his wand through the pocket of his coat.

Remus stared at Snape's reaction. The dull pounding of his head made him want to turn around and stagger home, forgetting that he had even been to the pub. But it was that uncertainty, that swift sign of weakness he hadn't seen in such a long time, not since their Hogwarts days, not since - well, the war that made him wonder why.

Why was Snape here? If it was true that The Order was supicious of Remus, was it possible that Dumbledore had ordered Snape to follow him? Maybe Snape was working for Voldemort - maybe they really were interested in Remus - maybe they wanted him to work with the werewolves. A peace treaty for evil.

Remus snorted. "Are you here on his orders?"

"No, I am not." The dark tone of Snape's voice made Remus shiver.

"Don't lie to me," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "Why are you here?"

It seemed that Snape had frozen, his eyes dead and his expression was formed with harsh lines. He looked too worn for being only twenty-two, too serious for his young face.

Snape took a step closer, the bottom of his shoes crunching the rocky dirt on the street. His movements were very slow, his eyes staring at Remus, burning - creating. He hesitated only a second before whispering, "Take me home with you." It was breathy demand - seductive and understanding.

Remus' words caught in his throat, all of his harsh thoughts washing away. He suddenly realised how parched his lips were, his tongue salty and dry, sticking to the top of his mouth. He gulped, and gasped quietly as he felt blood rush downward. Oh no. He didn't want this, not with him, not with someone he couldn't trust, he couldn't command.

Snape stepped even closer, so close that Remus could feel the heat of his body, the heat of his breath burning him, scalding him. Remus felt a moan creep into his throat, and he desperately knew it was useless to try to deny this.

Remus swerved around, heading down the street without looking back.

He didn't care if Snape followed or not. He only partially wanted Snape to leave him alone - he was intrigued, curious about the other man's intentions. What was on his conscious agenda, what bullshit excuse he would use to explain himself this time. Remus felt Snape walking beside him and it made him shiver. He started to wonder why he was having such a reaction to such a man, but it just made him shake even more.

Remus was too afraid to speak - he was too afraid of what he would say.

The air was cold, the dark and chilly night pressing into his face, his cheeks flushing. Each breath stung his lungs, the icy air curling in his chest, freezing it from the inside. He felt numb and at risk, his heart pounding in his ears, his stomach twisting.

Oh god, he wondered about Snape's thoughts. If only he could crack his head open, if only he could see what was going on inside that deceiving mind.

Remus stopped just outside the building to his flat. He turned to Snape, mouth slightly open, ready to say the words that hadn't come to him yet. But Snape just shook his head and pressed a finger to Remus' lips.

"Show me where you live," he whispered, his voice surprisingly husky.

Remus opened his mouth again to say something but Snape settled a hand against his chest. "Trust me," he breathed, pushing Remus back into the first steps of the building.

Turning to unlock the door, Remus knew it was wrong. Only a few minutes ago he was arguing with this man and now he was leading him into his flat, exposing himself to someone who could easily kill him and think nothing of it. But, oh god, he needed it, and excitement drummed inside, what was going to happen.

He treaded up the creaking stairs, the floral carpet stained with gum and spilt food. He felt Snape behind him, pressing a chest to his back. His hand shook as he tried to unlock his door, trying not to moan for the hallway was dead silent. They entered the dark room, staring at each other in silence. Snape pushed the unoiled door closed with long, white fingers.

Remus wanted to touch him, reach out and just feel. He didn't want to care anymore - fuck it all. The risk made his blood boil, made his stomach twist and swear and demand more.

Snape could spread every secret about Remus, and it still wouldn't stop him right now. For some reason he felt secure, felt as if maybe being with Snape at this very moment could make everything all right. The aching need in his chest made him crave Snape, made him want something he had never dreamed of before.

Remus could hear himself breathing with Snape, a hush, almost secretive sound. His chest heaved, his arms shook - he was at a loss of words. He was afraid of making the first move, but he didn't want to make this awkward, he didn't want to stop and think about what he was actually doing.

Remus didn't want to think about his friends, or the outside world looming in from a distance, waiting for his common sense to kick in. He didn't want to know that he had made a mistake - showing Snape where he lived.

Escaping was out of the question. Snape stepped closer, his hand slowly coming up to brush Remus' cheek, the rough pads of his fingertips sliding down to the corner of his chin. His other hand came up to clasp Remus behind the neck, bringing their faces inches apart.

Snape's harsh, scalding breath stung Remus' cheek. He inhaled the stale but still arousing smell, his stomach twisting itself into an almost painful knot. Remus surged forward, trying to kiss Snape, but was stopped by a tightening hand around his neck. He looked up into Snape's face, and saw the intensity of his eyes, the blackness penetrating him. Snape pulled Remus closer by the neck, his jagged nails slightly digging into Remus' flesh.

"Do you want this?" Snape asked breathlessly, his lips skimming the bottom of Remus' ear. He felt Snape's bristled chin scraping against his cheek.

Remus gulped. His eyes became unfocused, his mind spinning and his body throbbing with need. Did he want this? No, of course not. He didn't want to give his friends even more ammunition to suspect him, and sleeping with a Death Eater would be just the thing to set them off. He wouldn't just be kicked out like a dog, he'd be shot and left to the vultures, forgotten like some sort of beast who unfortunately acquired rabies.

But no matter what the consequences were, he needed this. His body, his whole being ached for some kind of connection, to not be alone anymore. He was tired of regretting and worrying. He just wanted to forget, and he counted on Snape to help him do just that.

Remus wrapped his hands around Snape's forearms, leaning to whisper yes. Snape started at Remus' response, crushing their mouths together, sucking and demanding. Remus moaned deeply, finally able to completely show his desire.

Tugging Snape closer, he moved his arms down to wrap around Snape's torso, fitting their bodies together. Remus felt Snape's arousal nudge his thigh, and surprise stung his senses. What a strange, human feeling, knowing that Snape wanted him just as much, and the weakness, the vulnerability made Remus' mind swim even more, so much so that he felt as if he would pass out.

Snape finally released Remus' neck, his hands slipping down to cup Remus' arse, using his hold as leverage as he began to rub against the layers of clothing. Remus was pushed backwards by the force of Snape's body, and he knocked into his wardrobe, the sharp edge of its corner stabbing his shoulder.

Their mouths were momentarily ripped apart, Remus gasping for air and trying to find his footing. Deep blotches of pink had formed against Snape's cheeks, and his eyes were dark, clouded.

Without thinking about it, Remus tore off his jacket and sweater, toeing his shoes off as he flung himself onto his lumpy bed. He looked up to see Snape still standing near the wardrobe, and he sat up, reaching out to grasp Snape's hand, pulling him to the bed.

Snape's hesitation only lasted for a second, because he soon was on top of Remus, finding his mouth again and biting. It was hard to breath with all of Snape's weight centered on Remus' chest, the air in his lungs forced through his nose.

The act that followed was one of rough touches, and selfish desires that seemed to engulf them both, filling and pressing and consuming.

Heavy eyelids and tired muscles were what made Remus fall asleep, but it was Snape's sudden convulsions that woke him. Snape's body suddenly twisted, and he let out a sharp cry. His fingers scratched at his arm, his face smashed into the pillow next to Remus' head.

"What's wrong?" Remus asked through the darkness. Snape just shook his head, turning his face away so Remus couldn't see his pained expression. Remus reached out to smooth Snape's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"Go back to sleep," Snape said, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I'll be all right."

When Remus woke again, he spotted Snape sitting in the chair beside his bed, staring at his arm. His mind was slowly remembering what happened the night before, and he blinked back the sleep from his tired eyes.

"What happened?" Remus asked.

His words seemed to snap Snape out of his reverie. His head shot up, his eyes staring at Remus.

"The war is over."

Remus blinked at Snape, not understanding. "What?"

"The Dark Lord was defeated last night."

***