Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one
Chapter 18: Unwelcome Discoveries
xxx
Harry dreamed.
And like any hormonal, adolescent boy of his age and disposition, he usually dreamed of sex. To put it bluntly. It was never anything specific. No names or faces, which sometimes used to annoy him, but it was something he'd grown used to. The scenes that played out in his head were generally nondescript, focusing on sensations rather than the person he fantasised about.
But this was different. Had any part of him been conscious and aware at the time, he would have known it was going to be different from the start.
It began with running. Once again, he was suddenly alive and exhilarated and he couldn't breathe and it was amazing. He was pelting through darkness, unable to see anything but the creature he raced against, who seemed to flow along beside him effortlessly, sleek silver fur rippling with the movement of sleek muscles. There was no sound beyond their breathing, which came in heavy pants, and the pounding of feet and heartbeats.
He didn't know what would happen if he slowed, but doing anything other than pushing forward wasn't an option. Somehow, though, it was impossible for him to take the lead, no matter how fast he ran, and really, he wasn't sure what he would have done if he could.
So together they ran on, and Harry loved it.
Then without warning, there was a snarl from the wolf beside him, the sound angry and vicious, and then teeth…! Suddenly it was upon him, all graceful movements gone, only strength and fury and pain. It bit at him, again and again, and it wasn't so much the wounds that scared him, but the uncertain knowledge that something terrible would happen now that he was bitten…
He struggled and fought back, frightened and furious, closing his own jaws around anything that came within reach. He drew blood and felt the other draw blood. He cried out with pain, then felt satisfied when the other did the same. They grappled and twisted and rolled, flashes of black and white, both smeared with red.
The change must have been subtle, since it barely occurred to him at first. One moment he knew canine ferocity, all matted fur and the taste of blood and mingled growls and teeth, and then they were human and falling together, still tangled and fighting with the same rules. Skin on skin, nails raking along flesh, earning a growl of pain from one of them, though which he didn't know. Teeth at his throat, biting down hard and it hurt, but there he was turning his head aside and allowing it, wanting it…
Warm breath against the newly inflicted wound, and then lips, barely touching, trailing upwards. His fingers reaching up to tangle in blond strands, pulling harshly, until he was met with icy eyes.
Kissing, then, and even that hurt. All wet heat tinged with the taste of copper; teeth sharp and unrelenting; tongues being forced forward invasively. The entire thing a fight.
It was sexless, really. This wasn't about love or even lust – it was release. The term 'making love' was laughable – this was making fire; wild and painful and beautiful, and so unbelievably intense... It was freedom and fury and fire, nothing more and never anything less.
The fact that this was anything but vague when it came to his partner didn't matter – at least for the moment. Revulsion and hatred only seemed to spiral between them, combining with the heat and the pain and the want, all of it summing up into utter need.
Delicate hands of the other were touching him roughly, soft skin at odds with their strength, hurting, but oh God it felt good, and don't stop, ever, and he was going to–
Harry woke.
xxx
And so the last night of the full moon passed by, signalling the end of their waiting, but by then the collective dread among them had never been so strong.
Horrified by his own dreams and still more than a little unnerved by the way he'd been woken up twice now, Harry had no idea how he was going to pull off this upheaval of the DA with Malfoy as a partner if he couldn't even look the blond in the eye anymore. The nice, uncomplicated rivalry they'd shared seemed a thing of the past to him. It was something he longed for, instead of this unspecified, apparently one-sided awkwardness that now existed.
The Gryffindor was even beginning to wonder if he should just cancel the whole idea concerning the DA. After all, he'd told no one yet but Malfoy. And he just knew how much effort he'd have to put in if he was ever going to convince his friends to go along with the plan. Was he up to that fight? Did he even have good enough reasons for starting it?
And besides, what was it all for, anyway, other than to end up spending hour after hour in unbearably close quarters with Malfoy…? Merlin, maybe he really was a masochist…
Shaking his head in exasperation at that thought, he sighed resignedly. No, this was ridiculous. He'd started this for a reason, so he'd damn well go through with it. And as for the Slytherin… Well, it was just one dream, probably brought on by how disturbed he'd been to find Malfoy sleeping on top of him that morning.
Yah. That was it.
Meanwhile, oblivious to all of this, Draco sulked. He wasn't aware of sulking, not really, but he did. In fact, he'd been sulking ever since Harry sodding Potter had had the audacity to… to ditch him! The indignity was unreal.
It wasn't that he'd particularly wanted the Gryffindor around. No, it was that he hadn't ditched him first. This set the standard! This implied that Draco was the one seeking the company of Boy Wonder – and had been rejected! It was unacceptable.
He'd stayed in his room for the third night of the moon, telling himself firmly that he'd decided to stay in even before Potter's presumptuous note. What really annoyed him, though, was that he'd spent the long night hours prowling around his empty rooms, chafed by the enclosure. It killed him to admit he wanted to be outside with Lupin and Potter. And that bloody dog. So, in true Malfoy fashion, he didn't admit it, instead deciding to set up camp on the west bank of denial.
Even when he heard the sharp burst of a wolfish howl some time after midnight, and found himself resting his front paws up on the windowsill, scratching open the curtain to stare out at the black outline of the forest – even then, Draco convinced himself that he preferred his precious isolation.
Around the same time, alone in his private quarters near the Potions lab, Severus sat wakeful, eyeing the thick textbook open before him and the pile of similar books stacked up beside it on his desk.
Sleep didn't seem to be coming – not that he'd tried very hard – so the alternative was research. Research on this ridiculous farce of a plan.
Each of the books in front of him contained detailed information on the intricacies of mental magic, including Occlumency, Legilimency and even some of the more obscure talents. He'd gone so far as to look into wandless magic, but hadn't found anything useful for their specific purpose.
Sighing, he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, absently pressing his hand lightly against his ribs, which were still sore, despite the copious amounts of Skelegrow he'd forced down. Poppy accused him of being a hypochondriac, still complaining about injuries that had been healed days ago. Hmph. What did that woman know…
But lingering phantom pains were the least of his worries. Now, with the full moon over and done with for another month, there was no time to lose in beginning the process of making Lupin into a spy. They'd have their first session as soon as possible, which would involve nothing more than Severus learning the landscape of the werewolf's mind.
That was only one of the things that made the task ahead so odious. Legilimency was noted for being an exhausting style of magic. Even though it would be quicker than using Occlumency, it would still take session after session for them to get anything done that was remotely helpful. Which meant prolonged exposure to the ex-Marauder, as well as countless visits into his thoughts and memories. The very idea repulsed the Slytherin.
Severus, in studying mental magic, had learnt the many dangers. He'd seen what could happen if a person lost themselves in another's mind. He'd seen friends come to hate each other after discovering things they'd rather not know. But, he did have to admit, he'd never heard of a case such as theirs, in which the individuals in question hated each other with the same force as he and Lupin did. Bitterly, he wondered how that would affect the proceedings. If friends separated over too much information, how were they, as enemies, going to cope?
But then, he supposed, there wasn't much that could lower his opinion of the other man any further…
xxx
Remus made his way reluctantly down the dungeon stairs, and through the dark, dank corridors that led to the Potions lab and Severus's private rooms. With every step he seemed to slow, fidgeting anxiously with whatever small items were in his pockets, the buttons on his robes, the strap of his watch. Anything to delay the inevitable.
This, he was convinced, was not going to work. What had he been thinking, agreeing to this invasion of privacy? And Severus! Severus, of all people! Had he been hit in the head when he'd started this?
These were the thoughts going through his mind as he approached the door behind which waited the Potions Master and lifted his hand to knock as lightly as possible.
Despite this, however, there was barely a pause before Remus heard the click of the lock and a very irate looking Severus appeared, glaring at him for a second before reluctantly stepping back and granting him entrance. He stiffened visibly as the werewolf passed him.
There was – again, inevitably – an awkward silence once Remus hovered uncertainly inside. He'd been here only once before, and hadn't exactly been in his right mind at that time. He barely recalled anything from the incident, other that Severus slamming the door in his face. He'd never noticed the unsurprising colour scheme of the room; green and black. Or the particularly comfortable looking couch near the wall. He did a double-take upon seeing the lit fireplace nearby that made even this dark room look warm.
Tutting at himself, he shook his head. What had he expected? That Severus really did live in the cold, dank, stone-walled dungeons, like the students said? The man was human, after all…
"Are you going to stand there much longer, or are we going to get this over with?"
Severus's voice prompted him into motion. He started toward the couch, but was stopped by another impatient order.
"The floor, Lupin," snapped the Potions Master, sweeping past. "Sit over there." He gestured to the rug in front of the fireplace, waiting for the werewolf to awkwardly lower himself into a sitting position before taking his place opposite.
"What are we –"
"I need eye contact," Severus explained testily, taking out his wand and placing it in his lap for the moment. "And you'll find the floor provides less of a fall than a chair."
"Fall…?"
"Legilimency is a taxing process for both participants, especially when prolonged. You'll understand when we're through. Now, if you're done…?"
Remus paled, repressing the urge to resume fidgeting with any little object that came into reach. "What, already? As in… now?"
The other man sneered, rolling his eyes. "Well, we could stop to have tea and biscuits, but I assumed we both wanted this over and done with. It's not exactly a pleasant experience, Lupin. I'd rather not drag it out any further."
The werewolf sighed. "Oh, very well. Yes. I'm ready." The flinching expression he wore belied this, but Severus paid it no mind. In a flash, the Potion Master's wand was in his hand and performing the necessary flicks and jabs.
"Legilimens!"
A gasp escaped Remus and he reeled backwards with the sensation of something striking him between the eyes…
xxx
He felt detached from everything for a mere moment in time. It couldn't have lasted more than a second, but the second seemed to stretch on and on. It was something Severus had long grown used to; something that had terrified him the first time he'd felt it, and even now unnerved him still. There were no boundaries around him, no protective, confining barriers. There was, quite literally… nothing. Nothing to keep him in place, to keep him together. He was merging with everything, his thoughts blurring at the edges. His mind was no longer his own; his body left behind. He was floating, lost beyond the physical.
But as quickly as the sensation had descended on him, it lifted again as he felt his mind settle into a single being. Returned to the safety of a confined mind, a set space for him to inhabit without dispersing into nothingness, he cast his senses outwards, exploring.
This new, temporary world was alien, and he quickly disliked it. Lupin's mind was far different to his own, every thought alight with nerves, sparking with agitation at his presence. He caught flashes of them, disjointed and vague.
…Severus of all people… Don't think about anything bad… test set for next week… Harry… Harry has Lily's eyes… same Animagus form as Sirius… don't think about Sirius… don't think…
Severus wanted to roll his eyes at the werewolf's pathetic attempts at deflection. Did he really believe that this litany of useless facts would hide his secrets? Hardly. Though it did give away some interesting things already. So Potter was an Animagus? An unregistered one, apparently. What a delightful piece of knowledge…
Attaching himself to that, Severus dived. It was like swimming. That was how he liked to imagine Legilimency, anyway. So he submerged himself deeper, following the trail of thought concerning Potter and this Animagus business.
Quickly, he came upon the memories. From the blackness of Lupin's mind that he'd swum through, it was like emerging into a pocket of air that was a scene played out as if in a pensieve.
Night. Lupin as a werewolf, just transformed. Loping out onto the grounds, rounding the corner of his hut to see the others. Two of them. One silver in the moonlight, the other black as shadow. Green eyes staring back at him, instant recognition.
The Potions Master observed the fleeting images with no small sense of shock. But he wasn't staring at the green-eyed dog, but instead the silver wolf. Draco. That was Draco! Why was his godson with Potter and Lupin?
Vaguely alarmed, he thought nothing about rushing on to the next memory, following the threads that linked this scene to the next.
He watched them running. All four of them charging through the forest, fighting and barking and racing, with Potter and Draco at the head. He saw Lupin, the elder alpha wolf, keeping a tolerant eye on his makeshift, ragtag pack. In particular, he gaped and could do nothing at the scene that played out before him, of his godson and the Boy Who Lived… playing, for lack of any other dignified expression, in the shallows of the lake; water spraying and mud-matted fur and, in the midst of it all, Draco howling at the moon…
He reeled away from the memories, finding them at odds with his own justifications. Draco didn't want to be a werewolf! He didn't embrace it, like Lupin did! That was what made the two different!
But this… He couldn't accept this…
Furious, he directed the anger at the only logical target: Lupin. Forgetting all professional ethics and reasons for being there, Severus grasped at the first thread of thought he found and tore along it. He sensed the werewolf's alarm skyrocket, felt it like electric currents in the black water around him, but he ignored the sensation. Random snippets of sounds and pictures flashed by him, totally unrelated as he chose unconnected paths, determined only to invade the privacy he'd promised not to, if only in payback.
"James! I've got detention with McGonagall for a week now because of you!" The sheepish expression of James Potter, shown through the eyes of the adolescent Lupin.
"No thank you, Minerva, I only take sugar with mine…"
Full moon. Changing, and Merlin, it hurt! Bones shifting, breaking, growing. Blood pounding in his ears. Everything hurt. Didn't matter, though, as long as he could hunt… He needed to chase something, to rip into it and tear and bite and consume…
"I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry –!"
Sex. This time rushed and inelegant and slightly painful, but always perfect. Warmth and afterglow and Sirius, the two of them whispering together, laughter rumbling quietly in his chest. Perfect…
"Don't call him that, Sirius." A reprimand.
"If I'm capable of helping you, I'll do it whether you like it or not, Mr Malfoy."
Pain. A loss so great he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't live. Helpless, useless want. Loneliness that went deeper than anything he'd ever known. Ripped away so fast he couldn't even cry out, not in those first few days…
Hogwarts library. A fourteen year old Severus Snape sitting three tables away, Remus Lupin blushing as he stared over the top of his Transfiguration textbook, embarrassed by his own fascination, but entirely unable to look away–
Finally, Severus screeched to a halt, frozen in the memory. Stunned, he glanced between the images of himself and Lupin, mystified by the implication of this particular scenario. Surely not…
But, in the background, the werewolf's alarm had turned to mortification, which simmered steadily all around him.
Half amused, half horrified, Severus released the spell, and was catapulted from Lupin's mind, back into his own, just in time to see the other man slump backwards in exhaustion.