The Secret's In The Telling by Sakuri

chapter 37

"Yeah, okay," was the amused dismissal.

Draco shook his head in exasperation. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to deliver some sarcastic retort, as Granger chose that moment to renew her attack. She only wanted to beat them because of her constant urge to be the best. Well, Draco could understand that. Trouble was, 'best' was his position.

He turned on her, responding to the challenge she'd extended, and they went about proving who, exactly, deserved the title of most talented in their year.

xxx

Severus wondered if these sessions would come to an end anytime soon, or ever. He'd thought that, once the construction of the Occlumency webs was done, his association with the werewolf would be over and done with, except, perhaps, for the occasional consult.

However, it had been during their last meeting that a small worrying thought had occurred to the Potions Master. Investigating it, he'd unfortunately been proven right.

They'd always known that what they were doing was still supposed to remain in the theoretical stages. This was unpractised magic, with none of the kinks and problems worked out. It seemed Severus had just encountered one of said problems.

The webs had been built with magic that was alien to Lupin. It wasn't a part of him, as his own magic was – and as a result, all that effort was unravelling. Literally.

Thankfully, it wasn't a fast process. Where the first strands of Occlumency had been put in place, entangled with the golden threads of thought, they were beginning to fade. And if they were allowed to disappear altogether, the entire web would rip itself apart. But considering he'd created the defences months ago, Severus considered they'd held out well enough – surely a testament to his skills.

No, it wasn't going to be a massive dilemma if the decaying period remained the same. It just meant he'd constantly have to monitor the other's mind and make sure all repairs were thorough.

Which meant yet more irritating encounters with Lupin.

Irritating, because Severus had noticed they'd actually developed a routine somewhere along the way¸ and it disturbed him greatly.

That afternoon, he'd pushed the table away to one side of the room, clearing them a space between the two chairs near the fire. At the foot of these chairs, he'd placed cushions on the floor, careful that they be the usual distance apart. Then – which, in retrospect, was the part that really distressed him – he'd taken out the half empty bottle of brandy at the far back of his cupboards and, unthinking of his actions, left it alongside two small glasses on the table. He'd remembered the werewolf was normally shaken after Legilimency sessions, and the alcohol tended to steady the nerves.

What bothered him was that it was... well, it had been a considerate gesture. Since when did he care if Lupin had the shakes for a half hour or so? It wasn't a problem. It wouldn't affect the webs.

And so, it was a very distracted Severus Snape who drifted through Remus's mind, touching on strands of thought and Occlumency, tying them back together where necessary, predicting how much longer some of them would last, and casting only cursory glances over the memories that flashed up in front of him. He had, he decided, let himself get entirely too caught up in the werewolf's existence. It was the Legilimency, he was convinced. They were sharing thoughts through it, sharing secrets, emotions. He was learning far too much about the other man, learning... empathy. Oh, how he hated that word.

It had to stop.

Annoyed with himself, he pulled back, releasing Lupin from the spell and rising quickly to his feet. "The web is fixed. It should last for another week, at least," he said briskly, turning his back.