Interruptions

Interruptions

Severus Snape did not enjoy being interrupted when he was marking. He particularly did not enjoy being interrupted when he was slowly trying to make his way through a stack of such bad essays that he wondered if he had ever taught these slack-brained first years anything.

The first interruption had occurred when a second year had come running down to see him with a large beetroot growing out his head and claiming that Gryffindor had attacked him in the Entrance Hall. Snape had dealt with the problem in his usual brief and terse manner, sending the Slytherin boy the hospital wing and relishing taking twenty points from Gryffindor.

The second interruption had come shortly after when Professor Sprout had popped her head into his dungeon office and asked if he had that potion ready for her plants. It had taken Snape a few minutes to find the potion and give it to Professor Sprout with strict instructions to use it with care because if it came into contact with skin, he warned, it would be fatal. He may have overexaggerated a little on the dangers of the potion - the worst it would do would be to bring you up in a nasty purple rash for a few days - but by this point he was so irritated that he did not care.

It was therefore the third interruption of the night that sent Snape over the edge, and it did not help that the disturbance was caused by one of Snape's least favourite people in the castle: Remus Lupin. He had sat down in his chair after practically throwing a very surprised Professor Sprout out of his office, and had just taken his quill in his hand to finish marking, or rebuking, this particular first year's work, when a knock sounded on his door.

"What?" barked Snape, slamming his quill down on the table so hard that he splattered ink all over the child's work. He muttered a quick cleaning spell and looked up angrily at the intruder. When he saw the pale, shabby man enter his office, however, his face contorted to a look of rage. Trust Lupin! he thought heatedly.

The man smiled mildly at him. "Good evening, Severus."

"No, it is not good evening! What do mean disturbing me?" he almost yelled. "And don't call me Severus! We are not on first name terms, we have never been on first name terms, and we never will be on first name terms!"

The man's smile did not falter, which just aided in infuriating Snape even further.

"I was just wondering if you had finished your part in the extra security arrangements for the school?" Lupin asked in a friendly manner. "I told Dumbledore I would come and ask you. Filius and Minerva have both finished."

Snape sneered at the man standing before him. "Oh, Dumbledore trusted you to come and ask me, did he?" he asked nastily. "That's odd, considering your connection to the whole problem."

Lupin stiffened before replying in a deliberately calm voice, "Yes, he did trust me."

Snape's lip curled in his customary way. He loved getting Lupin's back up and nothing was more effective than suggesting that he was helping Sirius Black to get into the castle - which he strongly believed was the case - for no one was naturally that calm, or mild, or kind without being up to something.

"Seen any of your old school friends lately, Lupin?" This was going to be fun, Snape decided; make the mild professor show some passion for once.

"I have not," Lupin replied in a carefully controlled voice.

"That I can hardly believe. You haven't seen Black for twelve years, I'm sure you've felt very... empty without him." Snape's black eyes were cold and a cruel smile played across his thin lips as he leaned forward across the desk towards Lupin. "I find it very convenient how Black has managed to break into the castle, supposedly, all by himself."

Lupin seemed to be physically trying to control his temper. His hands twitched and when he spoke it was in a voice of forced calm. "I think you need to trust a bit more Severus. If not me, then Dumbledore's judgement, just as I trust his judgement about you." As soon as Lupin had spoken he knew he should have not. Snape could see him visibly cringe but he didn't care. He was so angry by this point that everything else seemed to melt away, and the only thing he could focus on was the pale man standing before him.

He rose slowly from his chair and said in a quite voice that wavered with suppressed rage, "What did you just say?"

Lupin faltered a little. "I said that you should trust me."

Snape was surprised by this response; he hadn't expected Lupin to hold his ground, but here he was standing before him, feet placed slightly apart and his pleasant face suddenly firm. This unexpected reaction stunned Snape into silence for a moment and all he could do was stare at the man in front of him.

"W-What?" he finally managed to ask.

"I said that you need to-" but Snape cut across him.

"You suggested that I could not be trusted," he stated, firing up again. Now that he had got over the initial shock of Lupin standing up to him, he was even angrier than before.

"I got the impression that you had implied the same thing about me," Lupin said, his normally calm voice rising in irritation. As he spoke a tingle shot down Snape's spine; despite his rage a small voice in his head told him that he was enjoying this more and more.

Snape laughed a short, harsh laugh. "Oh, and I suppose you can be trusted, can you?" he asked in a silky voice. "I'm sure that being a werewolf who also happens to have been best friends with Sirius Black before he went to Azkaban makes you the ideal candidate for the Most Trusted Person Award." Snape knew he should stop but he couldn't; it just kept coming out, the insults, the jibes, and the taunts. "You must have been delighted when Dumbledore once again placed his faith in your- now what shall I call it?" he sneered. "Your human side. Tell me, how come you never figured that Black was the murdering traitor that I always knew he was when you two were such good, err, friends? Or did you know, Lupin?"

This last suggestion that he might have been implicated in James and Lily's deaths, however, was more than Lupin could bear. It was as if he was literally crumbling: his shoulders drooped, his chest shrank inwards and his eyes were limpid as they stared at Snape. Silence followed, and Lupin just stared at the pale, black-haired man.

Finally, he spoke in a soft voice, "Have you finished your security arrangements?"

Snape suddenly, for the first time in his life, felt a strange feeling welling up in his chest, like a large, painful bubble. Was it guilt? It couldn't be, this was Lupin whom Snape hated as much as he hated that Potter boy. He felt as if he should say something to Lupin, apologise somehow, but all he managed was, "Y-yes, I've finished."

Lupin nodded curtly and said a short thank you, before turning around and leaving Snape alone in his office.

Snape stared at the closed door. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel so bad? He rested his head on his desk and thought through the argument. When had he got so carried away? And why, why in the name of Merlin, did he care?

*****

The next few days were, Snape decided, the worst days of his life. He kept reliving that night in his office, going over and over what had happened. He felt extremely confused, and the feelings of guilt did not diminish as he had expected they would. Instead, they seemed to intensify and every time he saw Lupin something pulled at his heart, although he wasn't quite sure what. Fortunately, he did not see Lupin at school very much. It took a while for Snape to realise that he was avoiding the werewolf. First he couldn't meet his eyes and looked away whenever he came into a room. Then he began to plan things, when he would leave his office, when he would go down to dinner, so that there was no chance that he would run into him.

Snape's newfound sentiment did not, however, change his mood towards everyone else. In fact, he became even more malicious than he was before: he yelled at his first-year class (the ones whose essays he had been marking the night of the argument) so much that he made not one, but five of his students cry (not all of them girls); he was brusque with even his favourite students; and not one of the other teachers felt very much like talking to him after a few days of his glowering temper.

It was a week later, and Snape was sitting in his office brooding - something which he had taken to a lot recently - when he received a visit from an old friend. A knock sounded on his door and Snape looked up from the pile of essays he was supposed to be marking and said curtly, "Yes?"

He was pleased, however, when a willowy blonde woman entered his office and smiled beautifully at him.

"Narcissa!" Snape cried, momentarily forgetting his troubles. "It is so good to see you. You look very well."

"Why, thank you Severus," the woman answered, flirting playfully with him. She walked towards him with her arms held out. Snape moved round from his side of the desk and took her hands in his, kissing them both. "I wish I could say the same about you, you look awful!" Narcissa told him, taking back her hands and sitting gracefully in the chair in front of his desk.

Snape suddenly became very conscious of the fact that she was right: he hadn't washed his hair in nearly a week and it was limp and even more greasy than usual; his face was pale and pinched from long hours of chaotic thoughts that did nothing more than to bemuse him further; and dark circles framed his eyes. He sighed and sat down in his chair. "I haven't been having a very good time of late," he admitted to her.

"I know, Draco wrote and told me. He's says you have been preoccupied, at best. That's why I came," she explained. Great, Snape thought, so all the parents will know that something is unsettling me. That's my dignity out the window. Narcissa watched his face expectantly, her back straight and her fine hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked, as always, stunning, Snape noted, but he had never been one to drool after her as so many men did.

He sighed again. This was going to be difficult; he was never one to open up to people and trust his thoughts to anyone, and it was going to be particularly difficult when he didn't even know what his thoughts meant. Slowly, and with a lot of pausing to try and force himself to make sense, he began. He explained to her what had happened that night last week, and about how he had been taunting Lupin until, after provocation on his part, he was sure to inform her, he had got carried away and said something very hurtful. However, when Narcissa enquired of him what he had said exactly, he refused to tell her. What was wrong with him? Why should he care if he told Narcissa anything about Lupin? Nevertheless, he could not bring himself to say.

"So after you said what you said, what happened?" Narcissa prompted, because Snape had stopped, lost in thought.

"He left," Snape told her, "He looked as if I had destroyed him, though. I've never felt so bad in my life. And I can't in the name of Merlin work out why! I detest Lupin, so why should I care if I've hurt his stupid feelings? I would never have cared when we were at school." But that, said a voice in Snape's head, was not true. He had wounded the feelings of the other man once before at school, right after he had found out he was a werewolf, and then he had felt the same painful ache of regret but, being a younger man then, he could suppress it.

"Maybe something has changed since you were at school?" Narcissa suggested softly.

"No. No, nothing has changed," Snape replied a little sharply for, again, he was beginning to feel the guilt creeping up from his abdomen.

"So you have been feeling guilty about it," Narcissa stated, watching him through those brilliant blue eyes that failed to catch Snape's notice. "What were you thinking when you were tormenting him, did you feel guilty then?"

"No, I didn't feel guilty," Snape said, rubbing his forehead roughly with one hand as he stretched his memory. "I was...enjoying myself. I liked seeing him getting annoyed."

"Why?" Narcissa asked simply. Snape had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being analysed, but he continued to answer her questions obediently, hopeful that maybe, just maybe, she would be able to help him. It was as he always said, sometimes only someone else can point out the most obvious mistake in your potion.

"I don't know why it was so fun. Because I don't like him. Or because it's entertaining to watch people, particularly him, get irritated. He's always so...so mild! I wanted to see him being something else."

"So you wanted a reaction out of him?"

"Yes! That's exactly it! I wanted him to show some passion for once."

"Some passion?" Narcissa suddenly sat up even straighter in her chair, her eyes alert. "Why would you want him to show some passion?" she asked.

Snape looked at her as if she had gone mad. "What?" he asked, stupidly. Narcissa turned her nose up at his somewhat rude response, but didn't comment. She felt she was finally on to something.

"Why don't you like him, Severus?" she asked.

"Because we didn't get along at school. He was best friends with your cousin, as I'm sure you know. And he is always so kind, and calm and so damned pleasant that it just makes you sick!" He wanted to mention how Lupin had nearly killed him but he felt this would just lead to questions that his newfound conscience wouldn't let him answer.

"So," Narcissa said slowly, "you don't like him because he's nice?"

Snape stopped in his tracks; he hadn't even realised that he was pacing until now.

"Are you jealous of him?" she asked, as he wasn't saying anything.

"No, I'm not jealous!" he exclaimed.

Narcissa sat back in her chair with the air of one who has finally worked out a difficult puzzle and is waiting for the other to catch up.

"What?" he cried again, as she observed him with a knowing look.

She sighed and said, as if she were talking to a small child who might not understand, "You say you don't like him, but you purposely wind him up to evoke a reaction out of him. To make him 'show some passion', as you said yourself," Snape nodded and she continued, "and you detest him for being gentle and 'kind', which doesn't seem to make sense. The only thing that could explain it, as you insist you are not jealous of him- " ("I'm not!" Snape inserted) "is that you, Severus, are in love with him."

Snape stared at her with eyes as round as saucers, "W-what?" he stammered. "In love with him? IN LOVE WITH HIM!" he yelled, finally finding his voice. "You have to be kidding! Of course I'm not in love with him!"

"It certainly seems like you are to me," Narcissa replied calmly, unfazed by his shouting.

He looked at her with fierce eyes. "Why, pray tell me, would I be in love with him? I don't know how you got that impression. I've already told you I dislike him."

"And why, pray tell me, would you not be in love with him?" she inquired.

"Because...because he's a man! And I don't like him!" Snape was literally turning red with fury. How could she think such a thing?

Narcissa smiled in that annoying, knowing way. "I'll leave you to convince yourself that," she said in a sweet voice. Snape had nothing to say in return - he didn't even seem capable of speech anymore - so she stood up and, after saying a short goodbye, left with a broad grin on her face.

Snape stood staring after her in horror. In love? In love? He couldn't be, he just couldn't be. He sat down heavily at his desk and placed his head in his hands. And, without bidding it, an image of Lupin's face floated into his mind and Snape thought about his manners, his address, and, of course, their argument. He thought about the excitement he had felt as Lupin got more and more annoyed, and the guilt he had felt after he had said those hurtful words. And quite suddenly he felt angry. Not the kind of angry he had felt recently, but a burning, loathing rage towards Lupin. Why was he making him feel like this? Narcissa, dam her, was right and Snape hated Lupin for it.

*****

Snape walked the dark corridors of Hogwarts school. He didn't know where he was going but his feet lead him down stairs and through a number of secret passageways. After much time wandering, he walked into a deserted classroom and sat, staring out the window to the moonlit grounds. Sometime had passed before he realised he wasn't alone. In the corner of the room sat a hooded figure gazing, like him, out of the small windows.

Snape knew who this person was even before they had thrown back their cloak hood to reveal brown, greying hair and fabulous amber eyes. The man smiled and Snape's heart did some sort of flip in his chest. He got up and his feet walked him over to where Lupin was sitting. Although it was dark he could see him perfectly clearly as he approached, noting his hands which looked so beautiful in the moonlight. Lupin stood and they were so closed together now that Snape fancied he could feel Lupin's warm breath on his face. He imagined that it would smell of tea and almonds and chocolate, although he could smell nothing. Slowly and gently, Snape ran a finger down the soft skin of Lupin's cheek and felt goose bumps rise up where he touched. His finger reached Lupin's chin and, gently, he raised it. It felt completely natural to Snape when he bent down and pressed his lips to Lupin's mouth, as if he had spent his life waiting to do this. They kissed for a long time, their lips caressing one another's, their tongues exploring the other's mouth, their bodies grinding against each other in a steady rhythm that sent adrenaline rushing through Snape's body.

Finally, Snape pulled away. He smiled down into the face of the man who he clung to as if his life depended on it, and whispered, "I love you."

Snape awoke from his dream with a suddenness that usually followed nightmares, not desires of the heart. He could feel that he was hard and the front of his pyjama bottoms were wet and sticky. He let out a suffering sigh as he stared at the ceiling, afraid to go to sleep for fear of more of the same dreams.

*****

The teachers and students of Hogwarts were surprised to find Professor Snape, who had spent the previous week in what they thought was an abnormally bad-tempered manner, in an almost towering rage. Those who had thought that he could not become anymore ominous were wrong, and this time Lupin was at the receiving end of his wrath. It seemed that the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, who had noted Snape's distance from him last week, could not put a foot right without Snape making snide comments or throwing insults at him. Snape seemed to be going out of his way to make sure that wherever Lupin went, he was there, his face contorted with a mixture of contempt and hate.

Lupin, however, did not pay much heed to this behaviour. The understanding person that he was, he thought that Snape's new mood would simply fizzle out like the last one, and he made no attempt to reproach him. However, this did not last for long.

It was Friday morning and Snape, having a free lesson, was making his way from the staff room to his dungeon office. He had just rounded the corner of the wide corridor on the fourth floor when he saw the man he had been obsessing over for the last week talking to a class of eager-looking second years. Lupin was pointing out of the window to something the class were craning their necks to see. Snape's eyes followed his arm up to his slender hands and those beautiful fingers. He watched the professor's face as a student made a remark and he laughed, eyes lighting up and full mouth breaking into a smile. Snape felt his heart twinge and, here is was, the customary rush of anger and hatred, starting in the pit of his stomach and steadily making its way up until it enveloped him.

"Lupin," Snape spat, striding towards the group of people. Lupin looked around, surprised. When he saw Snape, however, he suddenly became wary, but was careful to hide this behind a small smile.

"Professor Snape," he greeted, with a nod of his head.

Snape sneered. "What are you doing Lupin?" he demanded.

"I'm teaching," Lupin replied shortly but pleasantly.

The children looked as if they were watching a tennis match; their heads moved from one professor to the other with open mouths. Some had edged away from Professor Snape, others stood rooted to the spot, captivated by the drama that was about to unfold.

The air was thick with tension as Snape said, "Oh, is that what you call it?" Some of the Slytherins sniggered, but Snape didn't notice them. In fact, he had forgotten there was a class there at all; his attention was completely fixed on Lupin.

Lupin visibly stiffened and Snape's lip curled. This was what he wanted. He wanted to hurt Lupin. Hurt him for making him feel like he did.

"If you will excuse me, professor," Lupin replied, mastering himself, "my class and I are done here." He indicated for his stunned class to follow him as he headed off down one of the corridors. The look that he gave Snape before he turned, however, was one of such loathing that Snape was surprised to see this new emotion contorting Lupin's normally so unreadable face.

That night at dinner the Great Hall was buzzing. Snape knew they were talking about him; news in a school travelled fast. He saw that the Slytherins were in high spirits after the conduct of their Head of House, but the rest of the school seemed to be talking heatedly (Lupin was a popular teacher). More that once he received a glare from the students seated below at the long House tables. He glanced at Lupin. He seemed to have his eyes fixed on his plate of food, a slight frown creasing his forehead. For once Snape thought that the werewolf had the right idea and thus spent the rest of the meal pretending to be very interested in his food whilst Professor Flitwick chattered amiably in his ear and Snape tried to ignore him.

When the desserts had finally disappeared from the tables and people began to get ready to leave, Snape stood abruptly and swept out of the hall. He was conscious of eyes following him and whispers behind his back, but he paid them no notice and had made his way to his office before the students had even begun to amble back to their common rooms.

Time passed with Snape alone in his office taking his frustration out on his student's work, before the door opened and someone entered without knocking. Snape was not surprised to find Lupin striding into his office. In fact something told him he was expecting it, and was already prepared. He placed a sneer on his face as the professor approached his desk. "Quite well, Lupin?"

Lupin ignored him. He was looking as he always did, mild and serene, but his eyes burned in his face like amber suns. They sent a pleasurable shiver down Snape spine as he looked up at him.

"I know we have never been friends, Severus," said Lupin, his voice unreadable yet forceful, "and I do not expect you to like me. I do not even expect you to pretend to like me. What I do expect, however, is for you to show me respect when students are present."

Snape began to feel the beginning of shame creeping through his consciousness.

"Oh, respect?" he scoffed. It was the only thing he could do; he had to keep arguing because he couldn't, he wouldn't, examine that feeling deep down inside. It was what he had been doing for the past week, blaming Lupin, hating Lupin, so that he didn't have to admit it. "Why would you require respect?" He leaned forward across his desk and said, in a soft voice filled with malice, "A gay werewolf. Are you sure you're safe with children?"

Lupin looked as if he had been slapped in the face. He stared at Snape in shocked silence for so long that Snape thought he might be stunned, when, in one swift movement, the werewolf brought back his fist and punched Snape in the mouth. The attack caught Snape off balance and he fell backwards, toppling off his chair and landing in a heap on the unforgiving stone floor.

Lupin just punched me. Lupin just punched me, he thought, dazed. He struggled up clumsily, using the desk to help him stand, and turned to Lupin. The other man was breathing heavily, his fists clenched by his sides, staring at Snape with livid eyes. Instincts took over and Snape tackled him, just like he had seen Muggle rugby players do when his father used to watch them on the television. This brought them both to the floor, and Snape punched Lupin's face. He felt a hand around his throat, chocking him, so he kicked out, arms and legs flailing, trying to strike as much flesh as possible. Blow after blow was delivered from both men as they fought and wrestled on the floor of Snape's office. They constantly changed position; first Lupin was on top, then Snape, then Lupin again. Snape's sweat socked hair covered his eyes and he couldn't see what he was doing. His mind was no longer in control of his thrashing limbs, and it was only the breaking of glass and feeling of fluid down his neck that brought him back to his senses. He wiped his hair out of his eyes with one clammy hand and found blood on his forehead. Very carefully, for he was surrounded by broken glass, he sat up. Behind him several bottles had broken as he had gone crashing into them, their vibrantly coloured contents seeping onto the floor and onto his robes. In front of him, slumped against the wall, was Lupin, his lip split, blood weeping from an ugly gash on his cheek and his eye already beginning to look black and puffy. Snape imagined that he looked no better himself.

Why had he done this? He had wanted to hurt Lupin, but not like this. It was all because of his own egotism. His own fear.

Slowly, he got up. He ached as if he had been on a twenty-mile run and pain shot though his right arm as he moved. Glass crunched underneath his feet as he walked towards Lupin. With an expressionless face, he held out his hand towards the man on the floor, who took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

Snape felt the tangy taste of blood in his mouth, and wiped it away with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry," he murmured, unable to meet Lupin's eyes.

"I started the fight. I'm sorry." This surprised Snape into looking up and meeting Lupin's eyes. They were so bright and beautiful that he found, despite his nervousness, that he couldn't look away.

"N-No," Snape stammered. "I'm sorry for what I said, for everything I said. I'm sorry for suggesting you helped Black kill Potter and Evans. I'm sorry for embarrassing you in front of the students. And I'm sorry for what I said earlier, it was...it was horrible," he finished lamely.

Lupin sighed and Snape watched as he ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair.

"You can't help it if you don't like me, Snape, but thank you for apologising." No, that's not what he wanted Lupin to think, that he did all that for some stupid schoolboy grudge. Something in his face must have betrayed what he was thinking, for Lupin frowned slightly at him.

"It wasn't because I didn't like you. It was quite the opposite."

Lupin's frown deepened. "You did it because you liked me?"

Snape shifted nervously. "I was scared, and I foolishly blamed you for it. I wanted to hurt you for making me feel like this, for making me feel about you."

Silence followed this proclamation. Snape shifted nervously under Lupin's shocked gaze, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. He felt as if he should say something to break the tense stillness, but he could think of nothing. Finally, after what seemed like an age to Snape but what was probably just a few moments, Lupin reacted, but it was not what Snape was expecting.

Lupin burst out laughing. He bent over holding his aching stomach and tears leaked from his eyes. Snape felt indignant. Why was Lupin laughing? He was being serious, professing his feelings, and all Lupin could do was laugh!

He must have caught sight of Snape's face, because Lupin straightened and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Oh, Severus," he said, attempting to stifle his amusement, "you couldn't have said anything? You couldn't have talked it through with me?" Snape looked at him helplessly. "You know, you might have liked the answer." And with that Lupin covered the distance between them in a few short strides and, taking Snape's face in his hands, he kissed him.

The world seemed to melt away, just as it had before when Snape had been so angry, but this time it was completely different. All Snape could do was concentrate on Lupin's soft lips moving expertly over his own, his fingers running through Snape's hair, and the stimulating contact between their bodies. He didn't know how long they continued like this, but when Lupin eventually pulled away he saw that his lips were slightly swollen.

"I love you," Snape whispered, gazing into the face of the man in his arms.

"After all you put me through, I should bloody well hope so!" Lupin replied, laughing.

Snape grinned and leaned in for another kiss.

~ The End ~