The Teacher

Porcelain

It was empty. And hollow, and dark. Severus was staring down into the cauldron standing in front of him on the table. He started glaring. It was like him. He felt empty and hollow and dark inside. And he hated it. After having run from Lupin's classroom the day before he hadn't dared eat in the Great Hall or leave the dungeons for any errand at all. He flooed to the places he needed to go to. He didn't want to risk meeting Lupin. He wasn't entirely sure why he didn't want to meet the other. Was it shame, because he had run away? Or was it fear, because it had been hard not to stay the last time and it would be even harder the next time? Severus supposed it was a bit of both.

"Er... Professor?" said a hesitant voice from behind the cauldron and Severus directed his glare at its source, a frightened Hufflepuff second year. "C-could I start with the potion now?"

Severus looked back to the cauldron and then glanced round him through the classroom. He had completely forgotten where he was, surrounded by Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, brewing a Sleeping Draught. He turned in a swirl of robes and made his way to his desk before the blackboard.

When he sat down he noticed that he hadn't snapped at the boy at all. He was so distressed by the business with Lupin that he was growing careless. He heaved a sigh and fixed his eyes on his hands, folded in his lap. It was maddening. He could face the Dark Lord as a spy and lie to him without fear but he couldn't face Lupin and tell him to leave him alone. Because he knew the werewolf had been right: actually, he didn't want him to leave him alone. He was scared of himself, scared he might lose control over his body one day and indeed pull the werewolf close.

Severus shivered. He wondered how it would feel. How he would feel. Soft, probably, despite his thin frame, fragile, for sure. And warm. Yes, definitely warm. He could barely remember how it felt to have arms embracing him, to have someone so close to him that he could really feel them. It made him long for the other man. Long for his touch. A brush of his fingers, a hand on his arm. Anything would be fine. If he would only touch him.

Suddenly he noticed that his eyes were unfocused and snapped out of his disastrous daydream. He shouldn't think about such things! It was counterproductive. Severus had stopped trying to deny his feelings, physical and emotional, for the werewolf but he should at least be capable of suppressing those thoughts and dreams and images of him. He wasn't. It happened all the time. It was disturbing and he could slap himself for it. And the werewolf. He felt so angry at him that he supposed he'd hex the sense out of him as soon as he saw him again. It was all his fault! Why couldn't Lupin just hate him? Then everything wouldn't be half as difficult and complicated. Why did he need to offer... something... to him? And again the Potions master felt himself hoping for something to be... well, the something. He couldn't even think what he wanted it to be. His mind forbade it. The rational part at least. The irrational part pleaded for more of the werewolf's presence. It really was maddening.

He missed the werewolf's smile and his angry expression and all the things he had let Severus see in the last weeks. He could kick himself. Something like that shouldn't have happened to him. It just shouldn't have happened. He had thought that he was immune to such Gryffindor feelings and he had been terribly mistaken. Now he knew that ignoring those feelings just didn't work, the more time he spent trying to forget about the werewolf the stronger grew his desire for him. Confrontation was even more dangerous, as he'd experienced the day before; he would almost have given in. And since yesterday he even worried if he had hurt the other by his sudden flight. He seized his hair, lowering his head and restraining himself from screaming his frustration through the cold dungeon. It was simply unbearable.

After having bullied a few students, making one of them cry and giving another detention without achieving the required effect of improving his mood, he dismissed the class and retired to his rooms, sitting down on the sofa with a glass of wine in his hand, staring into the empty fireplace. He didn't hate the werewolf anymore, hadn't even got a good reason left for it. He believed him that he hadn't been in on the prank in fifth year, and everything else was only that dull ache but not flaming anger. The fear was still present, gnawing at his insides, but since the last night when he had lain awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, as if he could see through the many floors that lay between his bedroom and Lupin's, there was a new feeling inside him, the feeling that he was missing something, that actually, the risk might be worth it. And hadn't he seen that look in those golden eyes, that look of more than plain affection?

In his imagination he repeated the moment when Lupin had held out his hand again and again. What if he had taken it? What would have happened? It was agonising not to know. He needed to know. And at the same time he was too scared to find out. Would the other man even want to hold out his hand once more? Would he still claim that there was something between them? Something precious? Would he listen to Severus? And what should he tell him to show him that he was serious? Did he need to say anything at all? And was he really serious?

He took a sip of wine and closed his eyes. He was still confused. Actually he was completely clueless. He wasn't used to this. He felt as if his brain were temporarily out of order, due to overload. He felt helpless. But he needed to make a decision. He couldn't hide in the dungeons forever. Not that he'd have a problem with it but Albus would drag him out one day and force him to sort out his differences with Lupin, and Severus wanted to spare himself the humiliation. After all, he'd already had enough of that. Self-inflicted.

The question was: give in to fear or to his emotions. In any case it meant giving in. He didn't like that. But he only had those two choices, so he had to weigh them against each other. Fear was secure. No risk of being hurt or used or rejected, or of losing his reputation. But then again he would never know how it would have been with the werewolf. And what it would have been.

The Potions master knew what attracted him to the other, he had seen it all before running from it. The werewolf was indeed tempting. Severus had never met anyone in his whole life who combined so many character traits in themselves that were so absolutely tempting to him.

Severus wanted more of the understanding. He wanted more fights that he couldn't win, more of his voice uttering Severus's own thoughts. He wanted those eyes to look through him and know. He wanted him to... he wanted him.

His eyes snapped open. There it was. The answer. It was all he needed to know. Anything else was meaningless. He drained his wine and got up, determined, face stern. He always insisted that he was no coward. He would prove it now. He needed to. Otherwise he would always regret it; if he didn't seize the chance that was presented to him now, he would forever believe that it was a mistake. It was worth the risk, he was sure of that now. He wanted that empty feeling to disappear. And maybe this could be considered a victory over fear instead of a giving in to his feelings.

And he had to see him now, otherwise he might miss the moment, change his mind again. When the Potions master left the dungeons he thought about what to say to the werewolf, how to tell him that he wanted to take his offer after all. He felt his hands tremble and clenched them to fists, wishing for one more Gryffindor trait: bravery. The long way up to Lupin's office was not even half as long as it usually was, or so it seemed to Severus. He was surprised when he found himself in the corridor it was situated in without having found any words to say.

The office door was open and when Severus approached it and glanced inside, careful not to make any noise, though he was quite sure that the werewolf had already sensed him, he saw Lupin bending over his desk, back to the door, hands on the tabletop, apparently brooding over some papers again. Then he raised his hand with a sigh and rubbed his neck, where Severus's eyes fixed him, looking out of the window. He didn't say anything, though, apparently waiting for the Potions master to make the first move, without pressure. Suddenly Severus knew what he had to say. He stepped forward and took a deep breath. He would make him his confidant.

"It was my father," he said and Lupin turned his head to look at him with a questioning expression, not surprised, though, rather... expectant. "The Muggle, I mean. My father - or the scum that called himself my father - was a Muggle. Not even a Muggle-born wizard. Just a Muggle. Meaning there's more magic in your veins than in mine," he added and felt like running away again when Lupin's eyes narrowed and he turned round, sitting down on the table. There was a short silence in which Severus waited for a verbal reaction and Lupin's golden eyes searched his black ones. When they had found them Lupin smiled a little but it was a sad smile. "Was that the reason why you didn't want to tell me?"

Severus hesitated, then shook his head. "No, that was not it. He..." he swallowed and averted his eyes, so he wouldn't need to look into Lupin's when he said, "He hit my mother. And me. They shouted at each other almost every day and it... it was terrible." He couldn't say more. It had been an enormous effort to say even that much and now he didn't have enough energy left to continue anymore. He glanced at the werewolf who was still staring at him, golden eyes full of pain and his brows knitted, fortunately demanding no more information.

"I am sorry, Severus, I didn't know," he said quietly and got up from his desk.

The Slytherin shook his head. "I... I didn't want to... yesterday, I mean..." Severus stammered and rolled his eyes at himself. He just couldn't say that he was sorry or that it had been a mistake. He couldn't say the words. But he didn't need to. Lupin knew.

"It's okay, Severus," the werewolf said and pointed at the chair Severus had sat in the last time he'd been visiting. Severus stepped closer and felt the warmth again, saw his hair up close and it looked soft, shiny, unlike Severus's lanky hair. Lupin smiled, walking round the table to take out his teabags. "Tea?"

Severus nodded and sat down, taking the cup Lupin held out to him. "It was my father, too," the werewolf said, pouring some water over his teabag, putting three cubes of sugar into the tea. Severus looked at him, waiting for the rest of the story, patiently. He saw in the other's face that it wasn't easy for him to talk about it. "He... insulted Greyback. You know him, I suppose?" Severus nodded curtly and didn't even need to hear more to know what had happened. "Well, Greyback didn't think that it was very funny and after finding out that my father had a little son, me, he positioned himself in front of our house before the full moon and... that's how I became what I am." He forced a laugh, but it was cold and painful to the ears.

"Your father, did he have another choice?" Severus asked quietly.

"He had the choice not to insult him. Though I'm quite sure he was right to reject him, whatever it was they were fighting about. Still, he should have known better. He had a responsibility toward his family more than to his principles," Lupin said and lowered his eyes, pressing a hand to his forehead.

Severus kept silent for a while, sipping on his tea. He didn't know what to say in such a situation. He had always avoided people and had always been avoided, so he didn't know any words of comfort. But he felt as if Lupin didn't need any now, just someone who was there, someone who would listen and understand. His warm golden eyes moved over Severus's torso, clad in black, to his hands, holding the teacup and just as white as the porcelain, until they came to rest on his face, expressionless, or so Severus hoped, eyes blacker even than his robes, cold like ice and gazing back into Lupin's trying to see his soul in them like the werewolf did in his.

He couldn't do it yet, though, didn't have the gift the werewolf had, would probably never gain it. Maybe he didn't need to. It was intriguing that Lupin could see his thoughts and feelings even though Severus could conceal them even from Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. But he didn't hide much from Severus either, at least nothing which was current at the very moment they were spending with each other. And Severus was good at recognising expressions.

"I take it you are not surprised I came here?" Severus said and raised an eyebrow. The other smiled.

"No," he answered and Severus glowered at him. Again he had been read, again Lupin had known before he had even known it himself. But somehow, it had a singular fascination to it, that gift of Lupin's. "You see, I was sure you'd come, just not about what you'd do. Either you'd hex me or you'd do what you just did... I'm happy it turned out like this." He chuckled and Severus shivered, pleasantly, he was used to it by now, had accepted it, welcomed it even.

"May I ask," Lupin said after having taken a sip of the tea, "why you came? What made you change your mind?"

Severus hesitated. He wasn't sure what to say, how to put his answer without giving Lupin the impression that he was having sentimental feelings for him, which he was, but wasn't ready to say out loud. Instead he decided to stay neutral. As neutral as he could at least.

"You were right. Something changed between us," he said quietly and fixed Lupin with narrowed eyes, taking in his reaction. "There is something between us... something... precious... and I have realised since yesterday, that I don't want to be without it anymore, after having experienced it in completion." He said 'it' because he couldn't say 'you'. He said 'don't want' because he couldn't say 'can't'. But to Lupin it was enough, obviously, since his eyes had widened and his hands had tightened around his cup, almost breaking it, a smile spreading over his face which touched Severus deep down.

It took the werewolf a few moments until he had found his voice again. "Really?" he asked though he must already know the answer. Severus nodded his head slowly and felt embarrassed when he saw a new emotion in those golden eyes: joy.

Severus swallowed and intertwined his fingers to keep himself from reaching out and brushing a stray lock of hair out of Lupin's face. He felt that urge again and his body begged to touch him. Begged to be touched. And wasn't satisfied. Yet.

"Me, neither," the Gryffindor said, raising his cup to his red lips. And Severus wasn't in the slightest surprised by the pleasure it incited inside of him. But he decided that this was as much as he could manage today so he set down his own empty teacup and got to his feet. "Thank you," he said and waited for Lupin to walk to the door and open it.

"I must admit, I am relieved. Thank you for coming, Severus. Thanks for the glimpse," he said with that smile. "I was worried we'd miss this chance as well. I thought maybe you didn't want to associate with a... a Dark Creature," his voice changed to a strange tone at the last words.

Severus didn't move, just looked at him and wondered why Lupin had even let him in again. Why he hadn't sent him away, after all Severus had hurt him the day before, hadn't he? And now he even referred to them as 'we', it had a nice sound to it.

And then it was on his lips, a thought he had fostered for quite a while now, ever since Lupin had called himself a Dark Creature that day after the full moon, "You, a Dark Creature? Who would ever call you that?"

His face was cold and his posture stiff, making it possible that his statement could be mistaken for sarcasm, but just before he stepped over the threshold and out of the werewolf's office, he let him meet his eyes and enjoyed the look of startled surprise on his face. He made to leave but suddenly there was a tingling in his fingers, where Lupin's brushed them in a gesture of holding him back which had been stopped just a little too late.

Severus looked down at the other's hand which was now hovering in mid-air, one inch away from his own. He could feel Lupin's sheepish smile even before he saw it. His lips formed a silent 'thank you' and Severus lowered his head in half a nod, waiting for the averted ambers to show him the werewolf's emotions. He shifted a little to the side, as if by accident, making their fingers touch again, warmth spreading up his arm. The werewolf's eyes shot up, shining, and cheerful, the tears that were welling up in them completely different from those Severus had seen the day before.

"You do deserve second chances, you know," Lupin whispered and lowered his arm, stepping back into his office. "I hope we will repeat this?" Severus inclined his head and turned to leave, his robes billowing in his wake when he heard the door close. He touched his fingers where Lupin's had been and tried to remember the sensation. And the emptiness was replaced by it.

Then he realised that actually, the decision to accept Lupin's offer had been inevitable since the Blue Moon; Lupin had touched his soul on that very morning, his well-protected, unreachable, sensitive soul, breakable as the porcelain they had drunk from, laying into the Potions master's hands his own fragile soul, winning not only one battle, but the whole war. The fortress Severus had built around himself had been snuck into and taken silently by the werewolf then, its walls had crumbled under Severus's hands, were crumbling still, unstoppably. And he was grateful they did, since they had left himself as little way out as the world had had to get in. It was a relief, though still scary.

Yes, he thought, we will repeat it.

They were both made of porcelain, easy to break when handled too carelessly. But porcelain could be mended, as could they.