Recycled Pain

Remus POV:

'I never noticed before, but your eyes change colour with your mood.'

What? When did we change from the varying effectiveness of counter-curses to my eye colour? 'It's nothing special,' I murmur, embarrassed beyond anything I can recall.

'Yes. Yes it is. And so are you.'

There was something in his voice just then - some emotion pulls at me, and something deep inside flips 'ON'. I look up slowly. Ah. Before I can stop myself, I lean forward and crush my mouth to his. For one blindly panicking second, I was sure he was going to shove me away, but then I felt a hand entwine itself into my hair, and another settle on my waist. I sigh happily and run my tongue over his, feeling one step closer to heave.

We stay like that for a moment, then Severus pulls back a little and rests his forehead against mine.

'I won't let you do this,' he mutters after a moment. I feel him hesitate, then he pushes his chair back.

'What?' I blink and reach out to him. 'Do what, Severus?'

He stares at me coolly for a few seconds, in that I'm-hurting-you-for-your-own-good-while-pretending-to-revel-in-your-suffering way of his. No, Severus, I know you too well. You won't fool me into hating you.

'Werewolves mate for life,' he snaps. I jerk. Okay, maybe I'm not immune to his verbal jabs, but then he is an expert in using his tongue to wound. 'I won't have you bound to me forever because of a few stray hormones in late adolescence,' he finishes with a sneer.

He gathers his books together while I'm still gasping with shock, and then he's gone. A swish of robes, a cloud of dust disturbed, and an absence of Severus.

I lower my head to the table and try to contain the gasping sobs I can feel rising in my chest.

Severus POV:

I just hurt him. I love him. One kiss, my hopes flaring wildly, then reality kicks in. He'll go to Black. Or he'll want to, after finding out that binding himself to me was a mistake, and he'll be miserable, and it will be my fault! So I hurt him. To save him, and to save myself.

'Ah, Snape,'

'Fuck off, Lestrange,' I growl, and try to push past him. He moves to block me and smiles tightly.

'Black gets everything, doesn't he?'

I feel my mouth tighten. 'What is that to you?'

'Nothing,' he shrugs and leans against a bookshelf. 'But there is a way to get what you want - everything you want.'

In spite of myself, my interest is piqued. I don't show Lestrange this, though, just quirk an eyebrow and sneer. 'Really? How very intriguing. Why, pray tell, are you offering me this little wishing well, whatever it is?'

'You're a genius with potions,' he says bluntly. 'Better than anyone in the school. Probably the country, too. Maybe even the world,'

I fold my arms across my chest. 'Nice of you to notice.'

Lestrange stares at me for a moment. 'You want to hear the offer, come to Hogsmeade tonight. Meet me in the common room at midnight. Alone.'

And he disappears, leaving me with one conclusion: Voldemort is headhunting. The best. And he wants me.

Another thought occurs: werewolves are Dark creatures.

I will see what offers are on the table. Maybe Voldemort has some way of making Remus love me and forget about Black.

What are a few Muggles and Mudbloods anyway?