SS/RL Slash Fic: "On the Shores of Darkness" (NC-17) 1/3

[purpleygirl]

Title: On the Shores of Darkness
Author: purpleygirl
Rating: NC-17 (Adult)
Pairings: Severus Snape/Remus Lupin
Length: 25,300 words (over three parts)
Summary: Only through the Dark can Remus be saved.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and Warner Bros own all characters and settings depicted here. No money is being made from this story.
Warnings: Slash scenes, Dom/sub, sex magic, mild dub-con, mucho angst ... and olfactophilia (yay! :P). But seriously, please do not read if you are underage for your part of the world or if these things may squick you.
Notes: I want to dedicate this to Klynie1, without whom, honestly, I would never have had the guts to try writing slash and who helped to make this fic a ton better. ::Huge hugs::
Concrit is always welcomed. Enjoy!

…Aye, on the shores of darkness there is light …
-To Homer, John Keats, 1818.
On the Shores of Darkness

When Snape had casually asked Lucius why he wanted the Wolfsbane Potion, the last thing he had expected was this.

He recalls how Lucius had grinned when he invited him back to his house - the first time Snape has seen Lucius’s new home since the end of the Dark Lord. Snape knows that Lucius has been forced to dispose of his precious manor house to buy himself out of Azkaban and that he has settled on a small (for his rich tastes) house on the outskirts of Hogsmeade - as the only all-wizarding town currently in Britain, he knows Lucius simply has to live there. One must uphold one’s pureblood heritage, after all. Even if your wife has divorced you and moved abroad with your only son and heir. In spite of the air he likes to give, Lucius is not the catch he used to be. A few years in Azkaban has sent his once proud appearance the way of his late sister-in-law’s.

Lucius takes him through the cluttered kitchen and toward the cellar door. Snape falters, begins to worry that Narcissa is not in fact somewhere in Europe but sequestered down here at her husband’s mercy. Merlin knows what he needs the Wolfsbane Potion for. Lucius’s taste for revenge is known far and wide.

Lucius pauses at the door that leads down to dark steps and turns to him. “Really, I think you’ll enjoy this.”

Snape makes a feeble attempt to curl his mouth in eagerness. He despises the Death Eaters who have bargained their way out of prison. Lucius deserves much more. And to add insult to injury, though the Dark Lord is finally gone forever, the corruption in the Ministry goes on blithely as before - perhaps even worse. A blind eye is turned to what some, such as Lucius, get up to. As long as it does not involve any new Dark lord, the Ministry reasons, it is only proper that these generous benefactors are forgiven their crimes and lauded for their magnanimous donations to the various (and rather dubious) funds set up in the war’s wake.

Snape has not been so lucky. With barely a Knut to throw at them, he managed to only just scrape through his sham trial without garnering the suspicion of his ex-comrades in the process and earning him a traitor’s death at their hands after his Ministerial reprieve. Funny how it had been Potter’s actions that in the end had brought about the acquittal. No doubt if Potter had survived the war, the boy would instead have blindly pursued his old teacher’s incarceration, disputing his own role in Dumbledore’s death to the end.

But since then, Snape has been forced to keep up appearances in front of the likes of Lucius Malfoy. And to think, once upon a time, he had dreamed of being free of the lot of them after the Dark Lord’s final defeat.

Snape bares his teeth in the hope that Lucius will take this as a hearty grin. “Let’s see what you have, then.” He follows Lucius down into the cellar.

To his relief, a sliver of light does poke through from somewhere, enough for Snape to see by as his eyes grow accustomed to the gloom.

The room is cold …. And bare, as far as he can tell - not even a collection of elf-made wine stashed away. Though the bleak light fails to reach every corner, they are clearly too small to be concealing anything significant.

He turns an expectant gaze on Lucius, who raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Lumos!”

At once, by the light of Lucius’s wand, the bare bricks of the walls are thrown into sharp relief. Snape cautiously peers around the room.

He pauses at a far corner that has previously been in deep shadow. Something does seem to be there. A heap of something. He feels his heart begin to beat faster. Narcissa is abroad, surely. Though he has never received any correspondence…

As he narrows his eyes at the mass of tattered material, he grows more and more sure that it is indeed in the shape of a human body. “What is this, Lucius? You bring me here to show me your dirty laundry?”

Lucius laughs. A loud, self-satisfied guffaw. But the mound in the corner remains still.

Snape’s concern grows - a building sense of dread that he is about to see another corpse. Merlin knows he has seen enough of them to last several lifetimes.

“My dear Severus, you are not looking.”

Snape looks more closely.

Lucius makes a melodramatic sigh. “Take a closer look. It won’t bite.” He smiles. “Well, not in this state, at least.”

Reluctant to have his back to Lucius, Snape stays to his side.

“Oh, really,” Lucius says in exasperation. “Look.” He strides over to within a few feet of the heap. “See?” he says, looking back at Snape.

Now Lucius is comfortingly in front of him, Snape steps nearer. At Lucius’s back, he trains his gaze on the mass in the corner.

The torn material is indeed tatty robes. And now, with Lucius’s wandlight focused on it, he can make out its - or his - legs, and arms, brought up to his chest, and …

He feels the blood drain from his face and glances at Lucius, who thankfully seems more concerned about keeping his wandlight on his newest acquisition.

Of all the creatures Lucius could have bought. Of all the things he could have shown him. Why did it have to be him?

Snape makes sure his voice will be steady before he speaks. “You brought me all this way to show me … him?”

Lucius turns to him then with an enquiring gaze. “I thought you’d find it interesting. You did ask what I wanted the potion for. Well,” he says, turning back to Lupin, “here’s your answer.”

Snape follows his satisfied gaze. Lupin does not seem to be restrained in any way, though he is right in the corner, facing the adjoining wall. His arms seem tight around him, and his legs are drawn up to his chest, as though cold. Or in pain. His robes seem even shabbier than normal, and Snape thinks he can make out dark staining around some of the gashes, as though blood that has dried.

Though Lucius’s light is trained fully on him, only a few feet away, Lupin has not made any move, nor any other indication that he knows they are here.

But his eyes are open.

“That apothecary is ripping me off,” says Lucius. He appears somewhat annoyed as he gazes at Lupin. “That’s why I wanted to try a more direct source. You’re much cheaper, Severus.”

Snape breaks his gaze from Lupin’s blank stare to scowl at Lucius’s back. “Indeed.”

“So. What do you think?”

Snape hasn’t given much thought to the ridiculous werewolf laws the Ministry, in its infinite wisdom (and instigated by their detestable promoter, one Dolores Umbridge), brought in a few years ago.

But now, it seems, Lucius has made the most of it … has seen a way to gain from it, as usual.

“It’s a werewolf,” Snape says. A werewolf ‘acquired’, completely legally, through the Ministry’s mass ‘clean up’ of the ‘less than desirable’. The unemployable, the dangerous, the ‘leeches’ on the post-war society.

Oh, yes - let the rich Death Eaters go free. Restrict the movements of the beasts that fought so viciously alongside the Dark Lord. Reduced to nothing more than house-elves - lower, in fact, since whereas elves at least have their own, wandless, magic, all werewolves’ wands have been snapped in two.

Since then, Snape has come across werewolves only in the form of slave labour - what most of them are now used for - most recently on building a brand new all-wizarding village in North Wales. He has seen those at a distance, in passing. And none seemed to be mistreated.

Until now.

And it has to be this one. When will he be rid of crossing paths with this damned creature?

“But not just any werewolf,” says Lucius, as though answering his thoughts. “He used to be one of Dumbledore’s, didn’t he?”

“One of the Order of the Phoenix, yes.”

Lucius seems to be waiting for him to say more. “Really,” says Snape, deciding he ought to inject some emotion into his voice. “I had no idea you would stoop so low as to keep - this - in your cellar.”

Lucius stares at him. “What?” he says flatly.

Snape begins to wonder if he has gone too far. “Well, a wild beast, Lucius? Whatever do you want it in your house for?”

“Oh, I see.” Lucius brightens. “You’re under the impression I actually paid for the thing. Good grief, no.” He pulls a disgusted face. “No, the um, charity, I recently donated to decided to palm him off onto me. As a gift, you see.”

“I see.”

“Of course, I had to accept. Makes the taxman happy, or something like that. Anyway, he does have his uses. I do get bored sometimes knocking around in this house on my own. And I do miss the Muggle games we got up to in the good old days,” he adds in a lower voice - as though the werewolf is bothered - and he leans in to Snape, who catches a whiff of alcohol.

“Yes.” Snape does indeed remember the spot of Muggle torture Lucius did enjoy so much. Much to Lucius’s chagrin, these days even the Ministry draws the line at allowing its donors their old favourite pastime.

Lucius sighs. “One mustn’t allow the lack of a decent subject to let one’s Dark Arts become rusty.”

“No, indeed.” Snape frowns at the prone form of Lupin on the filthy floor. Lucius clearly isn’t about to give up his free plaything any time soon. Not before he has finished with him.

“Oh but, you’re a little out of practice yourself, aren’t you? Come on, admit it. We haven’t had a decent run since ’98.”

“Well … I don’t suppose we have, no.”

Lucius gives a feral grin. “Tell you what. I still owe you for what you did for Draco, don’t I? Just let me know when you fancy it, you can come around any time you please. It really is a good way to vent one’s frustrations, I find. And I know you and this one in particular have a certain history.”

Snape tries to look compliant. So this is the reaction Lucius has been waiting for. Everyone knows all about the Whomping Willow incident from his schooldays now since the endless gutter-press reports during his trial. It is a source of much annoyance, and Snape knows right here and now that he would much rather curse Lucius to oblivion than Lupin any day.

“Very generous of you, Lucius.”

“Any time. Really.” Lucius pauses and brightens suddenly. “Even better!” He moves in to Snape, who tries not to cringe at the scent of Firewhisky that surrounds him, and says in a low voice, “I wasn’t going to tell anyone else this. But … well, we’re old friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course.”

“A few of us are planning on having a little get-together on the 27th. Rookwood’s bringing a ‘guest’… a young one, from some village somewhere. If you know what I mean?”

“But the 27th is a full moon.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape watches Lucius stare in that feral way again at Lupin. “Do I take it my Wolfsbane Potion is not going to be in use for that night?”

“You do indeed.” Lucius smiles wider. “I think it will be very interesting. And it’s perfect - if the Ministry discovers the Muggle child, they won’t find a single curse on her, only the marks of a werewolf.”

It sounds to Snape as though Rookwood has already found his victim. He wonders how young the child will be this time. “Very clever indeed.”

Lucius smiles and takes a step back. “So, how about it? I’m sure the others won’t mind one more joining our little soiree.”

“Well, I - wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Not at all! Come on, I do owe you, Severus. What do you say?”

Snape shifts his gaze back to the grimiest area of the tiny, bare-bricked room. Like all injured animals who know death will soon come, or wish it will, Lupin is cowering, curled up within himself, in the darkest corner he can find.

“I’ll have to see what I am doing that night.”

Lucius gives a small smile, and Snape sees his gaze regard him as though doubting his calendar is all that full in the evenings. “Of course,” Lucius says. “Just Floo me.”

Snape nods, and Lucius turns to the stairs.

He knows one thing: the event Lucius has planned at the next full moon will destroy Lupin. As sure as if they set a Dementor to suck out his soul, there will be nothing left of him after the 27th.

Snape casts a final glance at the dark corner. He has absolutely no intention of joining their little gathering. He will not find it too difficult to think of some excuse.

He follows Lucius back up the narrow stone steps.

Once back in the kitchen, Snape eyes the pile of dirty crockery in the sink. Surely Lucius isn’t above a simple dishwashing spell?

“Heard from Narcissa?”

Snape studies Lucius’s careful expression. When did he begin to show grey streaks in his hair? “Now, Lucius. You know the Unbreakable Vow I made to your wife - my apologies, your ex-wife - means that I cannot knowingly place Draco in danger.”

“Danger?” Lucius’s laugh of dismissal is becoming less and less convincing each time. “What possible danger could he be in from his own father? I’m not angry with him.”

Snape sees the unspoken words in Lucius’s steel-grey eyes: “… for failing the Dark Lord, then deserting him to run away behind his mother’s skirts.”

“Besides,” Lucius goes on, narrowing his eyes, “I still say that Vow was completed.”

Snape waves this off and smiles. “You know very well I have heard nothing from Narcissa - nor Draco - since they left. Now -” he moves past Lucius to the door “- I must get back.”

“Not so fast.”

Snape turns.

Lucius raises an eyebrow. “My Wolfsbane Potion.”

“Ah. Of course.” Snape frowns and reaches into a pocket. “I’m not sure what you need it for - when you are not planning on administering it to him for at least another six weeks.”

“One must always be prepared when dealing with a dangerous animal, Severus.” Lucius hands him a bag of Sickles. A very light one.

What one has to sacrifice for erstwhile associates. Will he never be free of the pretence?

“Let me know if you hear anything,” Lucius says as Snape finally succeeds in making his way to the front door.

“Of course,” he says over his shoulder as he steps outside.

“And Floo me on the invitation!”

Beyond the Apparation boundary, Snape steps behind a rosebush, away from Lucius’s view. Damn him for reminding him. And damn the blasted werewolf for getting into Lucius’s clutches. Damn them all. Will he never be free of his past? Will he never be allowed to just get on with his life - his ordinary life?

He is to blame, he knows - he did ask Lucius what he wanted the Wolfsbane Potion for. And he now finds himself regretting it considerably. He could have lived without knowing what lurked in Lucius’s cellar.

But now he does know. The very man who had given the Wizengamot information on Potter; given them at Snape’s trial the indisputable memory of what Potter told the werewolf before the boy’s death. The only person who knew about the boy poisoning, weakening Dumbledore before the Headmaster fell to his death at Snape’s deliberately unsuccessful Killing Curse. The man whose information brought about Snape’s acquittal. That very man is here now, at Lucius’s mercy.

And now against his wishes Snape feels that same compulsion, that same indestructible, inexorable pull of duty, the same one that brought him to the Dark Lord’s side on leaving school and that kept him at Dumbledore’s side those long years since - that very same one, it seems, still holds him in its death grip today. Old habits, apparently, do indeed die hard.

Snape stares at a delicate pink rose on the bush. Damn them all! He hisses a curse, and the petals at once begin to shrivel and bleach under his furious gaze.

He sneers at the withered flowers and Apparates home.

~ ~ ~

Someone seems to be arguing.

He tries to curl back within himself, but his joints ache too much. He stiffens, listening to the harsh voices somewhere in the dark.

At once, the one that always brings with it pain, hot, searing pain, bellows through and into his world. “You’ll do it here, then.” Reflexively, he shifts nearer to the cool wall, but in doing so, he brings fresh agony to his limbs.

“Now see what you’ve done!”

The other man is now shouting. “I cannot bring all the potions I need to test here. Allow me this, and we are even.”

He presses his face to the wall. Shut up! Why won’t they shut up?

“Can’t you wait until afterward? It’s only four days away! Why didn’t you ask sooner?”

“I shall make it worth your while….”

At last, the voices begin to drift away, and soon Remus feels himself float away with them as the comforting heat of the all-consuming fire bears him aloft and far away in its tender, blissful arms.

~ ~ ~

Remus coughs.

Then he hears someone scream as his stomach suddenly sears. The liquid in his throat is cold. Too cold.

And the pain is growing stronger by the second.

But the liquid keeps on coming.

“Swallow, damn it!”

Though the order has not been given in the usual voice, a new wave of pain surges through him, and he feels obliged to comply.

He lets out a shuddering breath as the onslaught of cold stops, and he feels a force hold him back against something too pliable for a wall.

He blinks as the light begins to blind him. It is too much. Then he hears his own ragged breathing, loud and horrible, like a runaway train careering toward him, growing louder….

“No!” He turns his head from the light, but the same voice that has given him the order is now speaking again, its whispers like some creature’s wings by his ear. Some foreign phrase he doesn’t understand.

Then all at once, the pain stops.

His eyes still tight shut, his head to the soft wall, Remus hears his breath ease. He tests his eyes against the light, carefully, bit by bit.

A room comes into view. Curtains drawn over a small window. This isn’t …

He opens his eyes wide, fear surging through him. The fear that the eternal warmth had saved him from, rushing back in. He hears his heart begin to pound.

He puts out a hand. What he had thought a wall seems to be the back of a chair.

This isn’t Malfoy’s cellar.

A sound turns his head.

And that isn’t Malfoy.

His pulse beats faster as he freezes and stares wide-eyed. Snape wears a deep-set frown, his gaze on him intense.

Where is Malfoy?

“Where - where -?” Remus stammers.

“You are in my house.”

But where is Malfoy! Malfoy had taken him to the dark place, the place of surrounding warmth. Why is he here, in this place of so much colour, so much brightness?

Snape suddenly rises, and panicking, Remus draws back into the sofa. “Malfoy…” He will rescue him. He will shut out all of this. Remus watches as Snape stiffens and clenches his jaw.

“Lucius is far away.”

Snape is going to torture him. Snape is going to murder him. For their schooldays. For the Whomping Willow. For everything!

Where is Mr Malfoy?

“I think you need more Reviving Draught.” Snape produces from his robes a fresh bottle of liquid and brings it near.

“No.” Remus shrinks away, further into the sofa. “No -”

The bottle is moved away. “I don’t have time for this.” Snape sounds angry. “Lucius expects you back by the end of the evening. I need you alert.”

Why is he in Snape’s house? Why has Malfoy let Snape have him here? Perhaps Snape has stolen him? “He’ll know…. He’ll know it was you…. Let me go…. I want to go back….”

Snape frowns angrily. “Listen to me, Lupin. If you want to go back to Lucius, that is up to you. I have arranged you to be here so that you can know what he has planned for you. Now listen to me.” Snape sits opposite and fixes him with his cold, black gaze. Remus finds it hard to turn away. “At the next full moon - in four days - Lucius intends to keep the Wolfsbane Potion from you. He is going to throw a little party for a few friends - bring a Muggle in place of a bottle - with you as the central entertainment…” Snape leans forward. “…Do you understand?”

Remus breathes hard. “Why are you doing this?”

“Are you listening to me?” Snape’s voice is low and furious, and Remus begins to feel sick. “In four days’ time Lucius and his friends will watch as you tear apart a small Muggle child for their amusement.”

Remus tries to quell his rising nausea, suppress his weakly shaking body as he presses himself into the confines of the sofa. He shakes his head, pushing away what Snape is saying.

He begins to lose focus as he squeezes into himself, his chest tight and hot.

“Drink this.”

The bottle is back - or is it slightly different? - and Remus can’t hold on to his senses enough to stop the liquid going down.

Everything is silent for a few moments - his nausea begins to sink, then vanishes altogether.

He blinks.

Snape is staring at him from the chair opposite, his eyes narrowed, scrutinising him. Remus hears again the words he said - and this time they begin to make more sense, images begin to form around them, horrible, bloody…. Malfoy isn’t his friend, Malfoy…. Oh, God.

He searches for the safe confines of his insensate world, but Snape’s potions have robbed him of it.

He looks across at Snape resignedly. “Why did you bring me around?”

Snape gives him a sharp look. “Would you rather stay in your pain-induced delirium for the rest of your life?”

“It’s - better than knowing what he has in store for me. Or is that your idea of torture? More sophisticated than his, isn’t it? Less crude.”

“How dare you. If this is the gratitude I get…. I should have remembered - you would clearly much rather indulge in your self-pity than accept help.”

“Help? You call this help? Telling me that - that man is going to set me on a little child. Watch me as I….” Remus stops himself and turns his gaze away. He fights to control his breathing. He bows his head and feels a sharp pain shoot up his back and into his neck. He winces.

“Most of your injuries are internal. Lucius is sometimes not as stupid as he appears.” Snape seems to have reverted to his professor’s lecturing voice. “I have given you a temporary potion for the pain - though I have some potions that would heal your injuries.”

Snape remains immobile, and Remus looks across wearily at his blank expression. “What do you want?”

“The question is, what do you want.”

Snape’s impassive gaze is making it increasingly difficult for Remus to think, sapping his thoughts just as he tries harder to organise them. “I don’t understand.”

Snape rises and crosses to the window. He peers out behind the curtain. “Lucius expects more injuries on your return, not fewer. He believes I am testing some newer potions on you this evening. He was unwilling to let you out of his sight before the next full moon, until I promised to slip you something to make you more ... vicious.”

Remus can’t breath. “You did what?”

Snape turns and meets his gaze. “He needed some assurance that he would gain something from the arrangement. It was the only way he would let me bring you here tonight. That and the fact that he still believes I know where he can locate his wife and son.”

Remus shifts his gaze to the chair opposite. “Are you going to give it to me? The potion?”

“I intend to give you nothing.”

Remus turns back in time to see Snape’s face crease into a frown. “However,” Snape says, “some token effect may be needed to allay his suspicions. That will be up to you.”

“Me?”

“Depending on what you decide.” Snape’s dark gaze bores into him.

“I don’t care what you do,” Remus says, turning away. “Give me whatever you want. In four days it won’t matter anyway.”

He hears Snape move away from the window.

“Not necessarily.”

Remus gazes at the table. He is tired of trying to work out Snape’s intentions for bringing him here. Tired of trying to work out how to get out of what Malfoy has planned for him. “There’s nothing I can do. He knows exactly where I am, and he can get me back any time he wants.”

It seems hopeless. It is hopeless. All Malfoy has to do is use his magic to summon him, and he will have to Apparate to Malfoy’s side - or die resisting it. But perhaps such a hideous death is preferable to becoming a murderer? Why has Snape told him the horrible fate that awaits him? Does he really hate him that much?

“There is something.”

Remus looks up. “But - nothing can break the control he has over me. It’s completely legal.”

“Nothing can break it. It is the strongest binding magic in use today. Even than the Unbreakable Vow. Complete ownership. It cannot be cancelled unless Lucius agrees to transfer possession of you. And he’s not about to do that. Certainly not before he has had his blood sport. No. But there is one way - one chance to sidestep these obstacles. It can be overridden by one stronger.”

“But you said it was the strongest one.”

“In use today. But I have found one stronger. Only one. While not used any more, it is still legal. Your bond to Lucius would technically still remain - nothing and no one could take it away or break it but Lucius himself - but he would find it overridden by this stronger one. There would - legally, magically, or otherwise - be nothing he could do about it. With this more powerful magic in place, he would simply have no control over you any more.”

Malfoy will have no control over him any more. It sounds too good to be true. “But who…. I mean, if it’s just another bond on top of the old one, won’t it need someone - someone else, other than Malfoy, to bind me to them?”

“Indeed.”

But wherever will he find someone willing to do that? “But - who…?”

Snape raises an eyebrow - and Remus’s breath comes out almost as a gasp as he stares.

Snape’s eyebrows lower; his expression darkens. “Or perhaps you have someone else in mind who would be willing at such short notice - if the idea is not to your liking?”

“But I - you - you’re willing to do this? For me? I mean, after what - after what happened at school? You’re willing to have a werewolf in your home?”

Snape looks confused. “Which event at Hogwarts do you mean?”

Remus stares back. “Don’t torture me, Severus. You know what I mean. When-”

Snape raises his hand. “Stop.”

It is Remus’s turn to feel baffled now.

Snape lowers his hand slowly and watches him. “I removed a memory to my Pensieve earlier.”

Remus stares. Snape has taken out his memory of the Whomping Willow? Snape can’t remember the night he nearly found the wolf in the Shack? “Do you think that’s wise?”

Snape looks unperturbed. “I have no idea, not knowing what it was. I can only assume I knew what I was doing at the time.”

Remus stares at the floor. Of course Snape wouldn’t have been able to offer to take him in with that memory…. But then he will put the memory back - and then what? Remus exhales. “Thank you,” he says uncertainly.

Snape only frowns - Of course, Remus thinks, Snape doesn’t know what he is thanking him for.

Remus gives him a weak smile. “So, what kind of binding magic would this be?”

“It is based on the Connubium In Manum.”

Remus frowns. “Isn’t that a kind of marriage bond?”

“This one is much older than modern-day versions. These days it is confined to dusty Dark texts.”

“Dark? You mean it’s based on Dark magic?”

Snape meets his gaze unflinchingly. “Yes.”

Remus shakes his head firmly. “I don’t think I like that idea.”

Snape raises an eyebrow. “Beggars can’t afford to be choosers. And besides, you of all people…”

He knows what Snape is getting at. He knows he is not a normal person - he is a werewolf - but he has never gone so far as to see himself as a ‘Dark’ creature. Not like that. He isn’t in the same league as the Inferi and their kind. And he certainly never had been like Greyback and his ilk. The Ministry was unjust and indiscriminate when it lumped them all together after the war. Remus had played his part in infiltrating the werewolves, just as Snape had spied on the real Death Eaters. Why, then, can Snape now live a free life and not him?

“But how would it work? If it’s Dark?”

Snape begins pacing again, as though lecturing in a classroom. “The Absque Sponsalia was originally used to override legal guardians’ refusal to allow their daughters to marry. Then it was further evolved by husbands and used to control their wives, to ensure their compliance, fidelity, to…”

Remus almost chokes on his dry throat. “Wife?”

Snape turns and raises a questioning eyebrow.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly … female.”

“And sometimes, wives would use it on their unfaithful husbands.”

This is getting ridiculous. What is Snape talking about? “But how would you adapt this - bond? How would it work?”

“The same way.”

Remus sighs. “But it’s not the same, is it? We’re not married, we’re not a - a couple. We’re not….” He stops and glances at Snape. Surely not. Snape doesn’t mean….

Snape folds his arms. “This is the only bond stronger. The only one that can supersede Lucius’s hold over you. It does not rely on him giving his consent. Any other legal bond would require his agreement - as your legal guardian and owner.” Snape lets the last word hang in the air for a long moment. “It is entirely your decision. If you decide against it, you shall merely be back at Lucius’s by the end of the evening.”

And in four days he’ll bring a child as the full moon rises….

If only he can keep his human mind! “Can’t you give me some Wolfsbane Potion?”

Snape only frowns.

“If I can keep my human mind, everything will be all right. Just for that night.”

“Aside from the fact that you need to take it over the next three days and there is no means for me to bring it to you without arousing Lucius’s suspicions…. If he didn’t get his blood sport this month, he would almost certainly try again next month. And the next.”

Snape is right, of course. They can’t fool Malfoy. Not for long. Remus knows he must either go through with Snape’s proposal or face being Malfoy’s pawn - allow Malfoy to make him into a murderer. A child murderer.

He doesn’t really have any choice at all.

“Does this - does it need some kind of third party? To conduct it?”

“No. It was originally used by a couple without the need for anyone else’s consent - parent, guardian, third party or otherwise.”

There is that word again. Couple.

“If it’s - if….” He looks at Snape, but his typically inscrutable expression is giving nothing away. “I need to know what would be … involved.”

Snape’s lip curls. “You needn’t worry. Once the bond is in place, I assure you I don’t foresee myself enforcing some of its more … unsavoury … aspects.”

That is something of a relief, then.

“Certainly not after its consummation.”

Remus’s gaze snaps back. That word does not allow for any misinterpretation. He swallows dryly.

Snape makes a move to the door. “I have given you the option. Yes or no, it is entirely up to you.” He glances at the clock over the fireplace. “You have half an hour to decide.”

Remus watches wordlessly as Snape sweeps through the door and out of sight.

He turns to the clock on the mantelpiece as it ticks the seconds away. Five past eight.

He needs more time. He needs Snape to stay and explain to him what will be involved. He needs…. He needs to know Snape won’t treat him like Malfoy, once the magic is in place. How will he know Snape won’t really use him as a guinea pig for his potions? How can he be sure Snape isn’t lying to him so that he can use him whenever he wants?

Maybe he is even lying to him about the child.

Remus rises and crosses to the fireplace.

But Snape isn’t simply taking him against his will - he is giving him the choice. And Snape has hated him ever since he came close to the wolf at school - why would he want him in his house, even as a guinea pig?

But then, the opposite also applies - why does he want to help someone he hates?

Remus grips the mantelpiece. He can’t think! How can he come to a decision on this?

He raises his head and gazes at the clock. Twenty minutes left.

It all boils down to one thing in the end: is he prepared to become a murderer? Will he be able to live with himself, knowing he has killed - eaten - a child?

Remus shuts his eyes on the merciless hands as they tick down. But he knows he can’t shut out the insistent sound.

There is no choice, really. He has no decision to make.

He retakes his seat and watches the time tick away.

~ ~ ~

Snape returns at half past eight.

Remus feels his dark gaze linger on him for a moment.

“Have you made your decision?”

“What choice do I have?”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Remus turns to him. “Just tell me one thing. Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?”

Snape gives him an annoyed look. “You know why. You know what would have happened if it hadn’t been for your testimony at my trial.”

“So, this is all about … what? Duty?”

Snape makes an impatient noise.

“But it’s not the same,” says Remus. “This is much more than simply testifying in a court - handing over a memory. That was over in a matter of minutes for me. This…. What you’re proposing….” He stares into Snape’s eyes. “You’re offering to accept me into your home.”

Something crosses Snape’s face then, and Remus wonders whether it is the beginnings of doubt, whether Snape has only now properly realised the full implications of what he is suggesting…. Whether he has already taken back the memory of the Shack.

“So … why are you doing this? How do I know you - you won’t…” …hurt me, poison me … treat me like Malfoy.

Snape sends him a sharp look. “I am not Lucius.” He continues to watch him for a long moment. “You saved me from the Dementor’s Kiss,” he says at last. “It is only right that in return I give you the chance you gave me.”

“What do you mean? It won’t be the Kiss…. I wouldn’t be…”

“What Lucius has planned for you…. Afterwards - who would know the difference?”

Remus looks at his blank face, his serious expression. He is right - Snape is right, and Remus knows he has made the right choice. He can never, ever knowingly do what Malfoy wants and be the same afterwards. “But the cost for you…. This would be so much more.”

Snape waves this away impatiently. “I’m used to it.”

Remus looks at his irritable gaze. He knows Snape has given so much in the war, given his entire life, all chance at any kind of normalcy, and received nothing in return but a trial. This is in fact nothing to Snape, compared to that. He is right - it is just the kind of thing he is used to. It is almost second nature to him. “But I have nothing to repay you with.”

Snape looks annoyed, casts a cursory glance around the small front room. “As you will be staying here, perhaps you could do something with this place. It will not take a great deal of looking after. I have no time to keep it. I spend most days in my workshop in the centre of town.” He turns back. “So. Your decision?”

“You just said it. You know what I have to do.”

“I need to hear it from you.”

Remus turns his gaze to the floor. “I … I agree to your proposal.” He feels the blood drain from his face. Proposal. Merlin, it is just like a marriage bond - a fidelity bond. Perhaps if this weren’t such a serious thing, he might actually be laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“Very well.” Snape’s voice is emotionless, serious. “We should get started.”

“How long will it take?”

Snape’s eyebrow seems to rise a little, almost unconsciously. “Hopefully, it will be over quickly. But we should start now to allow for any problems.”

“Problems? What kind of problems?”

At first, it doesn’t seem as though Snape is going to answer. He stares at him for a long moment, then he casts his gaze away. “How experienced are you?”

“In what?”

Snape sighs. “This is going to be a long night.” He turns and meets his eyes with a look of determination. “There is no … easy … way to set this out. So there is little point in beating about the bush. How much experience do you have with men?”

Remus turns his gaze back to the floor hastily. “You mean in a…”

“In a sexual way, yes.”

Somehow, Remus’s hands have found their way to the sofa’s edge. His fingers sink around the threadbare cushion. “Not a great deal.”

“What does that mean? How many?”

He can’t do this.

“I need to know. How many?”

“One. Just … one.” He focuses on the patterning on the old-fashioned carpet. How long has it been here, he wonders. Probably decades, by the look of it. It is even beginning to wear away by his feet. Perhaps the sofa, too, hasn’t been moved from this spot for decades….

“Black, I take it.”

Remus looks up then. “No.”

That seems to surprise Snape. “Really? Who, then?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Was it a long-term relationship?”

“Why are you asking this? What’s this got to do with…?”

“I need to know what I’m getting into.”

Snape looks angry, but Remus is in no mood to let him ask all the personal questions. “What about you? Isn’t it more important how much experience you have?”

Snape narrows his eyes. “I have enough.”

“What does that mean?” Remus throws his words back at him. “How many?”

Snape’s face grows pink. “Fine. Let no one say I didn’t try.”

He reaches into his robes and pulls out a small bottle. He frowns at it as he swirls its contents within, then he unseals it.

“What’s that?”

Snape glances across as he brings the bottle to his mouth. He downs its contents then pulls his face into a sour expression and places the empty bottle on the table. “Aphrodisiac.”

Remus feels his mouth fall open as he stares at the empty bottle in front of him.

Snape is crossing the room to a bookcase. Remus looks up as the shelves begin to move aside. He blinks as a narrow staircase leading up into darkness is revealed.

Oh, God. This surely is just a practical joke. Yes - that is it. This is Snape’s way of getting back at him for his schooldays - for the joke Sirius played on him.

But Remus’s breath doesn’t slow down. No relieving laughter is rising up within him. Malfoy’s cellar is very real. And Snape is deadly serious.

He can turn back now. He can change his mind. He can.…

But he can’t. He cannot knowingly take an innocent child’s life. He will not let Malfoy have his fun. He cannot allow the beast within himself to have its first victim.

Remus takes a moment to steady his breath. He heaves himself from the sofa.

Snape is waiting for him to go up first.

Remus stares up the narrow stairs and begins the climb. He just needs this to be over with, then by the end of the evening, he will be free of Malfoy.

At the top, Snape leads the way into a small room to the left.

The bed, with its stark flatness, seems to wait for him, like an offering to Lucius.

Better me than the Muggle child.

Stop it, Remus. This is doing him no good at all, such morbid thoughts. It is a bed. Just an ordinary bed … one on which Dark magic will be performed.

Remus shuts out these thoughts and turns to see Snape take out another bottle from his robes and place it on a dresser.

“What’s that?”

Snape turns to him. “For if you had said no.”

Remus looks at the green liquid - some kind of token poison to reassure Malfoy of Snape’s activities this evening….

“Don’t dwell on it,” says Snape, and Remus shifts his gaze to him. Remus would not have been able to dwell on it if he had wanted - he watches, his stomach turning over, as Snape begins to unbutton his robes. Remus stands mesmerised as Snape’s hands move down.

“Lupin.”

His gaze snaps up. Snape is already down to his shirt. How long has he been stood there, just … watching? His face feels hot. His whole body is burning.

Snape’s eyebrows raise in a question. Remus swallows. He forces himself to move. As he lifts his arms to his collar, he twists to his right, away from Snape’s line of sight. Across the room, he hears Snape continuing to undress. Remus’s hands shake as his fingers twist awkwardly around the buttons down his robes. They slip under the pools of sweat forming around them. It is taking him an age, and he realises the room has gone silent but for his heart hammering in his chest. He feels more blood rush to his head.

He senses Snape approaching, and he glances up.

Snape is still in the old-fashioned, loose-necked, buttonless grey shirt, the hem trailing down, covering him to a few inches above his knees. Remus feels somewhat grateful for this - if it is a conscious gesture on Snape’s part. Beneath the grey fabric, he can see the aphrodisiac potion is already taking effect.

“Do you need any help?”

“I can manage.” Remus turns back to the last buttons, fumbling over them even more in his haste.

Snape, thankfully, stays back.

Remus tries to laugh it off as he twists out of the final button. He stays turned to one side, away from Snape’s gaze, as he peels off his robes to reveal the old shirt beneath. He looks down at it in wonder. Tonks gave him this one Christmas - their last Christmas. He recalls how she told him how sexy he looked in it as he tried it on for her. She traced the florid blue pattern down its cream front with her delicate fingers and smiled, her eyes sparkling.

Now creased and twisted, the blue swirls have faded almost to nothing, the cream colour soiled by years of grime, sweat - and something that he knows must be dried blood around the seams.

He must have been wearing it when they took him away. Tonks’s last gift to him. Faded almost beyond recognition. He feels a sudden surge of guilt that he has let it become tainted. He should have left it lying crisp and clean, unused in its drawer….

“Lupin?”

Remus raises his eyes.

“Do you still want to do this?”

Remus smoothes out his frown and blinks. He nods. “Yes.” His voice sounds hoarse, and he clears his throat.

Snape steps nearer, and Remus steels himself.

“Are you certain?”

Remus lets out a breath. “Please. Just….” He falters. He wishes Snape would stop trying to give him chances to get out of it. He has to do it. He has to.

Snape has almost closed the gap between them.

Remus searches his gaze. There is an unfamiliarity beneath the impassive surface. A potion-fuelled sense of purpose.

Remus suddenly feels jealous - fearful and jealous - of Snape’s potion.

His gaze falls to Snape’s clean grey shirt, and he glances down at his own. “Perhaps I should….” He tries to laugh, though it comes out sounding mirthless and nervous. “I can’t remember the last time I had a wash.”

He sees Snape’s gaze rake over him, taking in his condition, and a wave of embarrassment sweeps through him.

“If you must.” Snape turns to the chair behind, folded neatly across which are his robes, where Remus guesses his wand is stowed.

“I can manage,” Remus says hastily.

Snape turns back. “The bathroom is down the hallway on the left. But there is no hot water.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just - I won’t be long.” He turns and leaves the room, following Snape’s directions.

The bathroom is cramped and dominated by an old bath, grimy with age. He steadies himself on the sink and looks into the mirror.

He hardly recognises himself. How long has it been since he has looked in a mirror? Dark shadows circle his eyes, which appear sunken and bloodshot. The grey streaks running through his hair have advanced greatly, startling him. A fine stubble peppers his chin and upper lip. He is gaunt - he knows he had a sickly appearance before - because of his lycanthropy - but now he looks like a hollow shell of his former self - glazed, unrecognisable eyes stare back at him from the dust-smeared glass.

No wonder Snape needs to take an aphrodisiac.

A burst of choking laughter rolls up through his chest and throat as he looks at the weary-looking stranger before him.

He peels off his stained shirt. By the bath, he finds a cloth, which he soaks and uses to hastily wipe himself down. It will have to do. He doesn’t suppose Snape will be picky - he isn’t doing this for the sex, after all - he is doing this for him.

Remus pauses at the mirror. Snape is doing this for him. Snape is allowing Remus into his home, where he will be relatively safe from Malfoy, freely and without any kind of payment, and Malfoy - what will Malfoy say to Snape when he finds out what he has done?

Remus takes up his shirt and returns to the bedroom.

Snape is standing by the bed, still in the grey shirt that tents the effects of his potion. Remus pauses briefly at the door then sees Snape’s gaze turn on him as he slowly approaches.

He places his shirt carefully on the table next to the bed then turns to Snape. “I - I just want to say - thank you. For everything. Because I know just how much this is costing you. Taking me in. And Malfoy - you’re still - you still - associate with him…. He won’t exactly be happy when he finds out.”

Remus thinks he sees the beginnings of a faint smirk cross Snape’s face before the stony seriousness returns. “I can deal with Malfoy.”

A heavy silence descends then. Remus breathes heavily, peels his gaze away and lowers himself onto the bed.

He settles himself until he is lying full length on the heavy covers, then he squeezes his eyes closed and waits.

Less than a moment later, he feels the bed dip and creak under Snape’s weight. Then there is the heat of Snape’s body as it shifts over him.

A cold finger passes across his burning hip, and Remus feels fabric move over his skin as his pants are tugged down his legs.

Snape moves back up over him. Remus keeps his eyes closed, the sound of his own heart hammering beginning to overwhelm him, already pools of sweat gathering across his hot body.

There is a sudden rustle by his head, and Remus opens his eyes to see Snape holding a pillow near his waist. “Lift up.”

Remus arches his back to allow Snape to place it beneath him. He realises then that Snape has already removed his shirt - unable to place his gaze anywhere with comfort, Remus settles on returning to wait in darkness.

Then, without warning, a coarse hand curls around his limp cock. Remus’s eyes snap open and immediately stare up into fathomless, dark depths. “What…?” he stammers breathlessly. Snape’s hand is now moving steadily up and down his length, coaxing it into life.

“First you must give yourself to me. Symbolically.” Snape’s voice is even, almost clinical, as though reciting in class. “On doing so, I enter you - metaphorically taking what you give me - and the binding magic is secured.”

Remus tries desperately to think through the familiar sensation of draining wits while blood rushes to his groin as rough fingers rub his length. If he has to come, why hasn’t Snape given him some of the aphrodisiac as well? He tries to form the question - but it dies on his lips with a twisted groan as a thumb swirls across his tip.

“You must do so of your own free will for this to work. No potions, no spells.”

Hardly completely my own free will, Remus’s struggling mind cries out as Snape continues to stroke relentlessly, chafing his increasingly sensitive flesh.

Snape begins muttering something then, something in Latin that Remus doesn’t recognise.

He barely felt exactly when Snape began to press a finger inside him. Still reeling from the sensations at his cock, he is dimly aware of being stretched as Snape pushes in another exploratory finger, preparing him. And through all this, Snape’s whispered chants continue, lulling Remus into surrendering to the mounting sensations.

Remus’s breaths come in shallow gasps, and he tries to fight the rush of feelings that begin to overwhelm him. He hasn’t felt like this in so long, and in spite of knowing this is what was intended, needed, Remus feels out of control in the face of the sudden onslaught of pleasure. He is aching with need, the need for release, but at the same time he wants it to last forever. He never thought he would ever feel like this again, and all the images of his so-called owners leave his mind, as though that had never been him in the first place.

Snape continues to work his fingers inside him. They find his prostate, and a sudden, desperate, gasp escapes Remus’s lips.

But then just as quickly they leave him, and Remus hears himself moan for their return.

He feels the bed dip as Snape adjusts his position, one hand still sliding over his cock, Remus arching into each movement, and then he feels something bigger - Snape - pressing at his entrance.

Remus bends into his stroke, but Snape stays where he is, barely outside Remus, and Remus tries to curve into the excruciatingly light pressure.

Snape circles his weeping tip, and in a shuddering gasp, Remus feels himself begin to fall. Panting and bucking, Snape enters him as he comes - spasming around Snape as he thrusts deep inside - milking Snape’s hardness until they have both shuddered to a breathless stop.

Snape pulls out quickly and shifts his weight to the side. Remus lies still, in the dark, finding his breath.

He has never experienced anything like that before - he knows he hasn’t. It had been like a rush of … like a rush of…

He snaps his eyes open. Like a rush of magic.

It is the Dark magic.

He lets out a panicked breath. Snape is already up and beginning to dress, pulling his shirt over his head.

“I - felt it.”

Snape’s shirt falls into place. “Yes,” he says simply. Then he turns for his robes. “I shall fetch the necessary healing potions. The one I gave you was only temporary - it will wear off any time now.” He finishes dressing, then leaves.

Remus feels cold air brush across his skin. He replaces the pillow at the top of the bed and slides beneath the covers.

At the back of his mind he hears Snape’s chants again. He turns them around in his head, but he doesn’t understand them. They are Dark. Too Dark.

“This is your room, by the way.” Snape is back in the doorway, his black robes firmly in place, buttoned up to the collar once more. He places three small bottles on the table next to the bed.

Remus swallows before he can speak. “Right.”

“Take these before you sleep.”

“Right.” He feels Snape’s gaze heavy on him.

Then he sees Snape produce his wand, and Remus instinctively recoils, shifting further up the bed as he eyes its tip.

“Lupin.”

Remus jumps slightly at the commanding tone.

“I am only checking the magic.”

Remus closes his eyes and waits, willing his heart to calm down. This is Snape, not Malfoy. Snape. Severus.

Snape lets out a breath. “Good. It is there.”

Remus opens his eyes to see Snape’s wand disappear back into his robes. “Will - will it … hold?”

Snape’s black eyes regard him. “There is no reason why it should not.”

As Remus nods, he feels a hot tingle creep down his neck and into his upper back. The earlier potion is beginning to wear off. He inches himself down again beneath the covers, edging them back over his chest, and reaches for one of the bottles.

Snape turns to leave. “Get some rest.”

“Thank you, Severus.”

Snape glances back briefly before closing the door.

~ ~ ~

Remus wakes to the soft touch of bed linen.

He rolls onto his back and looks around the small room. His room.

The morning is already sweeping in through the window. In the harsh light of day, he wonders how long this will last. How long can he stay here now? How long before Snape realises he made a terrible mistake letting a werewolf - this werewolf - in his house?

He sits up and tries to recall when he has last seen daylight. Such a simple thing. Remus wants very much to stay here, in this house.

He rises and puts back on his old, worn clothes from the night before. He must find some way of paying Snape back for the expense of keeping him. He makes a mental note to mention this to him and makes his way downstairs, revelling in the almost intoxicating feeling (while at the same time condemning himself for being so silly) of being able to walk through any door he pleases.

Snape is already up and at an old-looking table in the kitchen, frowning into the folds of the Daily Prophet. When Remus enters, he looks up, apparently startled. A second later, his frown has returned. “There may be some tea left in the pot.” He glances behind where a stained teapot stands.

Remus smiles tightly and takes a seat opposite. “I don’t want to impose on you, Severus. And, obviously, I need some new clothes.” He glances up to see Snape frowning at his dirty robes. “I - I’ll try to find some work somewhere. I don’t want you to be out of pocket because of me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Even before the new laws, people were hardly falling over themselves to employ you. Besides, you would need my permission for any kind of employment.”

“Why?”

Snape has put his nose back in the paper. “Because what little they would pay would be to me, not you.”

“Of course.” Remus gazes across the table at an empty plate scattered with crumbs.

Snape folds up his paper with a rustle. “The Ministry deemed to allow me a small amount of compensation after that farce of a trial. I’m sure they wouldn’t object it being put to use on a werewolf - who is more than qualified for reparation on their part. And I’m sure you’ll have noticed this house needs ... some attention. The last so-called assistant was more of a hindrance than a help…. Rather … verminous.” He curls his lip a little then turns his gaze to Remus. “You’ll stay here until I’ve dealt with Malfoy.”

Malfoy. He almost forgot. Almost. “But he doesn’t have any - any right to me any more.”

“That won’t stop him trying, I’m sure.” Snape glances at his watch. “He should be round soon.”

Remus’s heart plunges into his throat. “He knows where you live?”

“Of course. Why shouldn’t he?”

“Couldn’t you put it under a Fidelius Charm?”

Snape narrows his eyes. “Don’t you think that would be somewhat suspicious?” He rises from the table. “Go back upstairs until he has been. As long as he does not think I have taken you from him to spite him - as long as he believes you are still being … mistreated … he will be content.”

Remus stands up as Snape makes his way to the door. “Are you going to pay him off? Severus-”

“Of course not.” He frowns. “Don’t you think if I could have afforded to, I would have chosen that route instead?”

Remus holds back. Of course Snape would have. Remus feels embarrassed for talking about money so much.

“No,” Snape goes on, “I know how to deal with Malfoy. As long as he continues to believe I have certain information he wants, he will respect my wishes.”

“But how are you going to explain it? I mean, what are you going to tell him when he wants to know why you did it?”

“I shall simply tell him that once I had you here I realised I needed something more permanent to test future potions on. I’ll describe in fine detail the various debilitating and painful effects of those I administered to you last night, and he will leave relatively satisfied. I’ll tell him I had to have you - after our history.”

Remus blinks. Snape has replaced the memory already. Though he knows he would have had to some time, Remus can’t help half-wishing he could have left it in the Pensieve forever.

“After all,” Snape says as he turns back to the door, “he hasn’t lost out financially - apparently your previous owners couldn’t wait to be rid of you - they had to palm you off onto Lucius under the guise of a gratuity.”

~ ~ ~

Malfoy is gone. Remus recalls hearing an argument break out briefly, the harsh words reverberating through the floor up to his room.

He’d wanted to creep nearer - to listen on the stairs where he knows the bookcase will conceal him.

But he hadn’t dared when he heard Malfoy’s raised voice.

Venturing downstairs now - there has been silence since he heard the front door slam - Remus finds Snape with the dregs of a wineglass, another barely touched sits on the rickety table.

“He will not be coming around here again.”

“What did you tell him?”

Remus thinks he sees Snape’s lip curl. “I sent him on a wild goose chase across Europe.”

Remus stares, but Snape doesn’t offer further explanation.

“He wasn’t unhappy with what you did?”

Snape frowns. “Of course - at first.” He drains his glass, then removes Malfoy’s and rises from the chair. “But the fact remains there is nothing he can do as long as the Dark magic overrules his.”

Remus nods uneasily. Though Malfoy may be in Europe, he could summon Remus to his side any time he pleases - Remus prays that the binding magic will hold.

Part Two