Fic: As The Sea Receives A Stream (Part 2 of 2)

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AS THE SEA RECEIVES A STREAM, PART TWO

Severus travelled to Berkshire early the next morning. Considering that it was still before noon, there were far too many people mingling on the impeccable lawn beyond the main terrace, when he came back down after finding his room. He had expected a greater loss in number due to hangovers and excessive eating during the grand opening festivities of the previous night. He barely had a chance to look for a familiar face, when a slender, expensively clad arm linked with his own.

"What a lovely surprise," Narcissa said, a genuine smile gracing her lips. "I thought you'd be too busy with other things."

"I've told you I might come."

"Of course. Although, given that my cousin and his friend Potter are here, I was sure you changed your mind when you didn't arrive yesterday."

He was not in the best of moods. Despite the progress he had made towards a reconciliation with Remus, he could not shake a persistent feeling of unease, almost dread that had followed him here.

"Sirius Black, just what I need."

"Oh, Black is gone already. He received an owl just now and left straight away. Must have been urgent," a new voice said.

Severus recognised the man as one of the Shafiqs, though he did not know which one of the brothers he had in front of him.

"Ah, excellent timing," the man continued. "The carriages are here."

There they were, a whole armada of imposing, though slow-paced thestral-drawn carriages, all bearing the Fawley crest. Severus sighed.

"I can see our destination from here. Why don't we Apparate?" he muttered to a smirking Narcissa.

"Don't be gauche, Severus. It doesn't suit you."

They settled into the spacious compartment with Shafiq and Hubertus Selwyn. Selwyn was an old acquaintance from Severus' time at Hogwarts who had been two years ahead of him in Slytherin. They still met frequently in London, although he was always relieved when he could end a conversation with the perpetually red-faced man.

Selwyn lost no time in shoving the latest edition of the Daily Prophet into Severus' face.

"Have you seen this? Those good for nothing Oakbys plan to submit a petition to the Wizengamot to 'allow a select group of omegas basic magical training under Ministry monitored alpha supervision'. Why does it concern them in the first place? They're almost all betas. Next thing we know they'll be accepting omegas at Hogwarts. I don't believe it. Using a wand is no laughing matter. It takes sense and responsibility, and not to forget a magical core that is strong enough to be harnessed by a wand in the first place. Even if some of them have the magic, that they could handle it is a different question altogether. They simply do not have the brains for it!"

"I'm not so sure about that," Shafiq said, his calm voice interrupting Selwyn's tirade. "We trust them to bear and influence our children after all. Aside from that, I always thought it dangerous to keep them so very dependent."

"Nonsense!"

"I am no radical, Mr Selwyn. I speak of practicality and usefulness. They are not squibs, or at least in no higher proportion than the general population. Imagine the expense alone that could be saved, if they were able to perform simple tasks for themselves – that any alpha or beta can do easily – without having to rely on others. And it must make even you uneasy, that even the highest born omega of the purest blood cannot defend themself against a disgruntled servant, or any of the common riffraff that litter the streets of this country."

The last part had been said in a graver tone. Selwyn, who would clearly be unable to gain agreement from Shafiq, turned to Severus instead.

"You can't possibly support this, Snape."

Severus had no intention to humour him. He did not care, if a gaggle of omegas performed some parlour tricks for their families in the same manner they demonstrated their other ludicrous accomplishments. The only omega that concerned him was his own, and he was sure Remus had neither the need nor the wish for a wand of his own.

"Don't be so hysterical. Even if it goes through, which is unlikely at best, substantial change will take generations. I doubt very much we'll have to accustom ourselves to wand waving omegas within our lifetime," Severus replied, thoroughly bored with the conversation.

He was glad when Narcissa announced their arrival. Severus walked with her, while the more ostentatious guests were polishing their wands and discussing strategy.

"You were suspiciously quiet on the subject."

Narcissa shrugged her shoulders in a practiced display of indifference.

"Oh, I was just contemplating an old observation."

He knew she wanted him to ask her, so he obliged her: "And what kind of observation would that be?"

"That men – be they alpha, beta or omega – are constantly flying off into a tizzy at the slightest provocation, and yet you dare call us the weaker sex. Believe me, when I tell you that the fainting couch was invented by a man overpowered by his emotions for a man overpowered by his emotions."

Severus could not help smiling.

"I wouldn't dare call you any such thing."

"Because you are wiser than your peers."

"So what do you think about this omega business?" he asked, intrigued despite himself.

"I can't say I care very much either way."

"You mean, until it potentially becomes an issue for Draco or after that for his heir."

"Of course. Whatever my son will turn out to be, I will make sure that he receives every advantage and opportunity a Black is entitled to."

"A Malfoy, you mean."

She smiled politely.

"Come, we mustn't dawdle. I should keep an eye on my husband and my sister Bella, lest they forget themselves and curse each other instead of our dinner."

Severus saw it for the dismissal it was and let her be. He passed Rowle who was loudly complaining about the chosen quarry of the day and insisted they should all hunt boars instead. To the side the Greengrass women stood decoratively grouped on a mossy mound, positively blinding in all their finery. And even from a distance he could see Bellatrix Lestrange's wand smoking from all the curses she fired at some poor pheasant or unlucky partridge.

Apart from stopping to chat with a few acquaintances here and there, Severus kept himself in the background, content to watch the proceedings and warm his hands on a glass of punch the squeaky house-elves kept providing for everyone.

Later Lucius, who had finally managed to free himself from his brother-in-law, came over and pulled him aside, interrupting Severus' observation of a highly stilted conversation between Narcissa and her sister Andromeda.

"You're letting things slide, old friend," Lucius said slyly. "Of course, I know what kind of company your little country bumpkin of a husband keeps, but really, sending him one of your owls here, where everyone can see, is quite brazen, don't you think."

"What?"

"Oh no," Lucius simpered. "Don't tell me you didn't know."

Reeling, Severus excused himself to his obviously smug companion. He moved away from the crowd with balled fists to clear his head. Trying his best to convince himself that it was not true, could not be true, it nonetheless quickly dawned on him that there was a definite possibility.

Given his long absences and busy schedule, he could not be sure what Remus did with his own time. Perhaps the reason he never complained about being left alone at Barberry was that he was not alone at all. The hastily sent letter for Black could certainly not be the result of Severus' words of the previous night. It had to be clear that he had not yet given his permission for Remus to contact anyone, let alone to do so behind Severus' back.

There was only one thing to do. He had to know.

After consecutively Apparating a number of smaller distances, Severus finally reached home. The house was dark, although the lamps should have been lit by the maids some time ago. Inside it was equally dark. Making his way through the quiet house with the light shining from his wand, he called for his husband. Receiving no answer, he called Filch, then Mrs Fleet, then the cook and finally the maids. It seemed they were all gone. Had they been sent away for a guest that should not be seen?

Upstairs in the private wing, Severus spotted the heavy wards around his husband's bedroom immediately. They were too elaborate to have been placed by anyone living under his roof, since he was the only one capable of such advanced magic. Hammering against the door in frustration, he tried to be heard, although he already knew that the wards would keep everything out, including his shouts.

Dismantling the wards took time and effort. He was out of breath by the time he broke through. He flung the door hard enough to make it crash into the wall. With bile rising in his throat, he took in the sight before him. His naked husband, barely covered by his hastily thrown on dressing gown, stared at him in horror as the flames in the fireplace turned from green to their usual orange.

"No, no, no," Remus whispered.

He moved towards Severus, his wide eyes fixed on the open doorway, but Severus would have none of it. A flick of his wand shut and locked the door, another sealed every single window on the southern wall, their latches snapping into place one after the other. The third swish doused the flames in the fireplace.

"You’re not going anywhere," Severus said, his voice low.

He could still detect a faint trace of another alpha's scent, taunting him with the realisation that Lucius had told him the truth.

"If you think you can make a fool out of me, if you think you can humiliate me, you're mistaken. If you think I'll stand by while you carry on with Black, you've got another think coming."

Remus was not looking at him, his eyes frantically scanning the room. Severus made to approach, his anger growing, but Remus seemed barely aware of his presence.

"I should have known you were just like them. Spoiled, entitled little brats, thinking they own the bloody world and looking down on anyone who wasn't born with a silver spoon up his arse." He paused, gritting his teeth. "Is that how you – how you came to know so much about bedroom matters. Surely, that can't all have been innocent intuition. Did you like their trust funds so much that you allowed them some liberties, hmm? Lord knows you wouldn't be the first one. Did you play whore for them for a handsome reward in return? Must have been a mutually beneficial arrangement. And then what happened? Did they use you up and got tired of you, so they decided I could have their leftovers. Did–"

"You leave to leave. Now."

The words were steely, the pale face grim.

"Don't presume to give me orders in my own damned house!" Severus snapped, his voice rising to a shout as his bursting magic made the windows rattle.

But his husband was not cowed. Severus startled as vice-like fingers seized his arms and forcefully dragged him across the room in an eerie display of unknown strength. Unable to resist he stumbled along until they reached the dark fireplace, where he was pushed to his knees and held in place.

Remus, crouching down beside him, extended a desperate, unsteady hand to the blackened wood. With his eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted he stretched his fingers, reaching for something unseen. Severus' eyes widened when small sparks shot from his fingertips and landed on the stacked fuel. More sparks followed, but they were not strong enough to revive the fire. Struggling to straighten up and gasping for breath, Remus was hit with something and, doubling over, he hit his head on the snowy, ornate marble.

He fell, freeing Severus from his grip. With blood trickling from the wound on his temple he crawled away on all fours. Severus scrambled up to help, his ire forgotten.

"No! Stay away! Go. Leave. You must–"

Remus curled in on himself with a pained groan. His body convulsed, his spine hunched and he cried out in such anguish that it chilled Severus to the bone.

Severus watched in mounting terror as the shape before him changed. Bones snapped and rearranged themselves, skin burst open to make way for fast growing fur, and Remus' face lost all resemblance to the man he loved as his features twisted into the hideous visage of a beast. His husband was gone.

There was no time to run. The creature shook itself out of its stupor and got to its feet and, raising its head to the ceiling beyond which the clear night sky lay, let out a bloodcurdling howl. And then it showed its teeth in a vicious snarl, before it attacked.

Everything went black.

* * *

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the ceiling. The light of dawn was spilling into the room and he could hear the first birdsong of the day. Later he would remember being very calm in those first few moments, before suddenly descending into a light-headed frenzy. He would remember casting off his clothes to search for the mark of a bite and the rush of relief at its absence, discovering the shattered window and the painful pressure in his chest when he looked down from above and did not see a broken body on the frozen ground. Remus had left nothing behind but the bruises on Severus' arms where he had grabbed him the night before.

Severus did not know why he went after his betrayer, could not say whether it was revenge or concern that drove him. He made his way into the forest, his wand at the ready, and was surrounded by trees and far away from any discernible path before he knew it.

He turned sharply when he heard the caw of a crow. The scraggly bird looked at him, sitting on the dry branch of a dead tree, cawed again, and then flew off in a swish of ragged feathers. Severus was about to walk on when he saw something where the crow's feet had been.

Healthy green shoots sprouted from the bare wood, rapidly developing serrated leaves, followed by a delicate stem winding around the branch with a heavy bud on its end that burst open into a rose of the deepest burgundy. He thought it was an illusion, probably resulting from the painful bump at the back of his head, but he could feel the velvety petal on his fingertips when he touched it. He saw another rose blooming on the ground a short distance away and another one after that.

Severus followed the path of the flowers until he reached a small copse of trees. They were bent into a strange shape with their branches entwined to make a dome, though he could part them easily. Within was the still and pale body of his husband. Moss had grown over him, covering him like a living blanket, and his head was bedded on fallen leaves. Mushrooms were showing their spongy heads all around him, and Severus thought he recognised the tall plants with the heart-shaped leaves standing beyond Remus' head as greater burdock.

He reached out in a daze, but – instead of feeling the chill of death – the cheek under his fingers was warm and the pulse on the neck steady and strong. Severus lost no time in brushing away the moss and wrapping a naked Remus in his cloak. With the weight of his husband in his arms he headed back.

The closer he came to the house, however, the more his doubts grew. It was beyond foolish to bring the man who had attacked and almost killed him back under his roof. He did not know by which lucky circumstance he had been spared, but he would play with fire, indeed, if he brought the same man, that same creature, back to where it could only wreak more havoc.

Then again, he could not let Remus roam free. Despite his wealth and position, there were plenty of people with direct or indirect influence over the Ministry who would love nothing better than make Severus' life difficult for being an upstart whose talents had elevated him to undue distinction. Unknowingly or not, he had harboured a werewolf, had even bound himself to one, so that now the sole responsibility rested on his shoulders, and he had no doubt that the proper authorities would agree.

He needed to think. He needed time to decide on the best course of action. If he turned his husband over to the Ministry, he would not only implicate himself but also Remus' parents, and while he had no scruples to see them punished for the part they played, he knew his own reputation would be irrevocably destroyed as soon as the matter became public. He chose not to contemplate Remus' fate under the Ministry's care.

Handling it himself seemed preferable in every respect, but he was wary of making the wrong decision in haste. He needed to contain the issue until a decision was made, and that included his husband.

Apart from several cuts and bruises, he looked exactly the same. There was no new sign of meanness in his features, no trace of the fur that had covered him mere hours before, and nothing that hinted at the bulking strength Severus had personally experienced. It would be so easy to take care of him now, to see to his wounds and watch over him, and Severus' weak, treacherous heart wanted nothing else. But it had all been a lie: every sweet word, every look and touch had been designed to beguile him, and he had lapped it up like a gullible fool. What a good laugh Potter and Black must have had.

Severus knew he had to lock Remus away, out of sight and out of hearing. He would not be strong enough to withstand apologies and pleas. He put the body he was carrying down with a heavy heart. Thick chains shot from his wand, winding themselves around his unconscious husband until Severus was sure he would be unable to free himself. After hesitating for a moment, he finally coated the chains with a layer of silver.

He happened upon Filch when he reached the back entrance.

"Wha– what happened?" the man asked, his eyes wide with fright and the usual disdain in his tone absent as Severus levitated the chained body beside him.

"Never mind that. Where is everyone? I don't recall giving any of you leave or receiving any notices."

"Well, they're not here. Won't be back until tonight. You see, he – your husband, that is – always gives all of us an additional day off every month." Filch swallowed.

"And, of course, none of you saw any reason to mention this to me. Go back to your work. And you can tell the others that there won't be any more of these extra days in the future. I shall withhold the share of your wages that equals the time you missed."

Severus put a firm hand on Filch's shoulder before he could get away.

"Tell no one what you've seen here. I'd hate to have to be unpleasant."

He watched Filch scurrying away, and then took them both down the long hallways and steep staircase into the cellar. There was plenty of unused storage room, and he put Remus behind one door that had a series of locks from the top to the bottom on the outside. It was a cheerless place, no doubt, but it was dry and not too cold and he left water and provisions for some light. Severus did not unchain Remus entirely, but let him have enough room for movement of his limbs to stand up, shuffle around and make use of his hands to some extent. He locked the door behind him before he had a chance to think better of it.

Severus did not quite leave the daze he was in after that, he merely seemed to enter a different kind of stupor. Cooped up in his study and drinking too much, he cursed himself and Remus, and destroyed a good portion of the room's contents either with the help of his wand or his bare hands. He ate little and slept even less, although he felt a bone-deep fatigue. He clung to his anger and bitterness like a lifeline, because allowing the pain might have finished him off.

Severus did not know how much time had passed, when Filch interrupted him once more.

"It's been two days, sir. Don't you, well, don't you think I should at least bring some water down, and some food."

Severus could not even remember telling him where he kept his husband. If he could only bury it all, and forget ever setting eyes on him. Though he handed over his keys to Filch regardless. But Filch did not leave. He remained standing in the doorway, wringing his hands.

"I'm sure, that there must have been some great wrongdoing on your husband's part," Filch said at last. "I don't doubt it in the slightest, but, surely, there must be another way to – it can't have been so bad to warrant this."

The keys clinked together in his unsteady grip. Severus stared him down, his mood turning darker, until Filch shrunk away further, as though he was enthralled by the gaze of a giant snake.

"I'll thank you to stay out of my personal affairs."

Severus' words had the intended effect. After a hurried bow Filch fled from the room. Filch's cat, Mrs Norris, who had crept in after him, now padded over to Severus with her back arched and hissed. Before he had a chance to remove his legs from her path, the disgruntled cat had already swiped her claws over his ankle hard enough to draw blood. She was too quick to fall victim to his kicks.

He muttered curses under his breath as he paced the room. Feeling trapped in his own body, practically itching all over and even his feet feeling too big for his shoes, he gave the nape of his neck a rather vicious scratch, then hissed in pain. The hand that had been on his neck was smeared with blood. He rushed to the looking glass over the fireplace, lifted his hair out of the way and turned his head until he caught a glimpse of his wound. But it was no ordinary scratch. Rifling through the drawers of his desk and cabinet, he found a small hand mirror to see better.

There were inflamed but precisely drawn runes just below his hairline. Severus shuddered. Blood magic was for some of the darkest and oldest spells known to wizardkind, and it could be done without a wand. Remembering in which other places irritations had plagued him recently, he reluctantly shed his clothes. And sure enough, he found more runes, equally tender, on the soles of his feet and the underside of his scrotum. Going by the state of the marks, they had been activated recently.

The panic overcame him in stages. He had been cursed, was still cursed, and knew exactly by whom. His hands were too jittery to hold the mirror and his quill steady, but after a series of attempts, he managed a passable sketch of the runes that were carved into his flesh. Hours flew by as he tore through his library searching for a clue as to their meaning and a possible method to reverse whatever had been done to him. His efforts were in vain, though. Despite being well-stocked, even exceptional in his chosen field, his book collection lacked variety and in-depth volumes on the dark arts. Although he had everything worthwhile that could be acquired on the current market over or under the counter, he had little access to the sheer mass of material most of the old pureblood families would have stored in their attics for centuries.

But then something occurred to him. Checking the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, which had been dutifully laid out on a low table by a maid, for the date, Severus exhaled in relief. Narcissa's birthday celebration would be the perfect opportunity to find what he was looking for.

* * *

Malfoy Manor was decked out in splendour. Severus had taken some time to dress properly and calm himself, and was now hoping to make his way through the crowd unnoticed. He managed to reach the right part of the house without being intercepted by either of his hosts or any other guest, but within sight of the massive library doors a voice stopped him nonetheless.

"My eyes must be deceiving me, because I could swear I just saw you attempting to insult me in my own house, during my own soirée and on my birthday no less. No greetings, no congratulations, no gift. I have declared life-long acquaintances and relatives as enemies for less."

Severus sighed, closing his eyes. Narcissa stood before him, looking sublime in an elegant dress that flattered her colouring and matching dress robes.

"I thought you'd be busy," he muttered.

"Of course, I'm busy. But I've had little Tibby here keep an eye out for you."

A house-elf carrying a tray with delicate champagne flutes had appeared next to her. Realising that he was trapped, Severus surrendered to the situation. He took Narcissa's offered hand, but brushed her cheek instead of her knuckles with his lips. Her icy gaze turned to amusement.

"Many happy returns. And my sincerest apologies."

"I shall forgive you for the gift at least. I've told my dressmaker to send the bill for his latest creation to you. Do you like it?"

She turned in a graceful circle until he had seen her attire from every angle.

"You are a marvel, as always."

She passed him a glass of champagne and clinked their glasses together, before he could decline the offer of a drink.

"Let's drink to my health, and then you can tell me what or whom you were trying to reach in such a rush."

Severus managed to steer them to the library eventually. Narcissa had kept their conversation to trivialities until they were alone and the rest of the party had receded to a low murmur in the background.

"Attending without your better half, I see. Don't think I want to scold you, but I confess I'm surprised that you're stepping out on him already. I've always taken you for the faithful sort."

"I am. I haven't taken a lover or any such nonsense. My husband is not here, because he is –indisposed."

"Oh," Narcissa said, her smile turning mischievous. "Indisposed as in ill, or as in a delicate but joyful condition?"

"The former. It's early days yet and I'm not in quite such haste."

"If you say so."

Severus watched as she arranged herself on one of the sofas by the fireplace, her limbs held just demurely enough not to be an outright challenge to any alpha in her presence, even though the message remained clear as day. Bellatrix had taught her well. Although Narcissa had never said so herself, he rather suspected that she must have been disappointed when it became clear that she would not be able to follow her sister's path.

"Are you sure this isn't just you being preoccupied with your own state?"

"Excuse me!"

He regretted his words now that he saw that she was genuinely affronted. Sighing he sat down next to her and patted her arm quickly and carefully in apology.

"I'm sorry. I thought Lucius had implied something of the sort."

"Has he now. Well, he can imply whatever he likes until his hair falls out. I've done my duty. I adore my son, truly, but it was a miserable experience, and I don't care to repeat it. If he wants to have more children, he can bear them himself."

He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Tut-tut, Narcissa. I thought that was never to be mentioned again."

"You're right, of course. I can't imagine how it slipped my mind."

She seemed at ease again. After taking another sip of champagne, she continued: "Well, I suspect your little omega will be much more eager to breed than any Malfoy has ever been. And more suitable, too, I imagine. Those of lower standing tend to be made for little else. Though at least what they lack in mind and magic, they make up for in health and strength. A little fresh blood may very well provide you with a whole litter of remarkable offspring. And I'm certain, your abilities will counteract any of his weaknesses." She leaned in, raising her brows playfully. "Yes, perhaps your choice was a clever one after all."

Despite his feelings of rage and betrayal simmering just below the surface, her words irritated him. The bitter disappointment and contempt with which he now viewed his husband did not change the fact that he would rather not hear Narcissa's abuse.

"You needn't go on. I'm well aware that you don't like him."

She laughed.

"Whatever gave you that idea? I like him just fine, though I do believe you could have done better, at least in regards to fortune and family. However, I don't trust him." She daintily shrugged one shoulder. "But then, if I only had friends I trusted, I'd never be able to collect enough of them for a small dinner party, let alone anything more lavish."

She looked at him for a long moment, then placed her empty glass on the serving tray of the house-elf that had appeared at the snap of her fingers.

"And now, will you tell me why you're really here?"

Severus explained his object as vaguely as he could. Narcissa consented to unlock the closed part of the library for him with little questioning. She held him back, before he could disappear between the shelves and stacks on the upper tier.

"Do you require any assistance? I hope you know that I'd offer it gladly, if you need it."

For a second he was tempted, but remembering her words, he excused himself and let her go back to her celebration.

Severus had few friends, and trusted none of them completely. Was his charmed, successful life really so empty? Was there no one with whom he could share everything without censoring himself and holding back anything which could be used against him? He once believed to have found such a person, but he knew now that he had been mistaken.

Thinking of his first love, he could admit in hindsight that he had been barely able to be himself in Lily's presence while they were still friends. The sting he had felt then, learning of her acceptance of Potter's proposal, was nothing to the rampant despair currently swelling inside him.

Clenching his fists hard enough that his fingernails dug into the skin of his palms, he shook off his desolation and got to work.

Severus soon found the first pieces of useful information and clues that hinted where to look next. His breakthrough came some hours later, but by then every lead he found only unsettled him more. The runes and the related spell were dangerous, but not to him. According to the numerous sources he had pieced together, Remus had bound himself to Severus in an obscure ritual, sacrificing his own blood and an extensive part of his magical power – while likely shortening his lifespan – to protect Severus from some unspecified evil.

It seemed that as long as Remus was alive, and excepting the killing curse, Severus would probably be safe from almost anything a witch or wizard could do to him. He checked and re-checked his findings, but reached the same conclusion every time.

His mind was in turmoil. He had misjudged the situation, had misjudged his husband. A spell that dark and dangerous – least of all because getting caught performing it would land most people in Azkaban – could not be part of some ploy to disguise Remus' true nature and motives. If Remus had indeed only married him for his money and the satisfaction of humiliating him, he would have no reason to protect Severus when his sham was eventually exposed. No, going to such lengths to ensure his safety could only mean one thing. There was no ruse, or at least not in the way he had suspected.

Severus had to sit for a little while. The last week had brought such a rise and fall in his happiness, such ups and downs in his condition that he felt utterly drained. He mindlessly counted his breaths until he was sure that his heart would not beat its way out of his ribcage and escape into the night.

He had to concentrate hard on putting away the books and scrolls he had examined and making it as hard as possible for Narcissa and Lucius to find out what he had been looking at. It took just as much effort to put one foot in front of the other, to Apparate and find his way home. When he finally stood in front of the dreaded door, his hands were shaking so hard that he could hardly get the keys into the keyholes.

He observed the scene behind the door with a strange detachment. Filch must have dragged an old rug into the room to make his husband more comfortable, because it had not been there the last time Severus had opened the door. He was glad to see that some of the water had been consumed and the food had been eaten.

A faded quilt was wrapped around the figure on the rug. Severus increased the light in the room with his wand, then sat down close to his husband but did not touch him. Remus' eyes opened slowly. He blinked a few times before averting his gaze. Severus' words failed him.

As Remus moved to sit up, Severus caught a glimpse of the chains he had used to shackle him. He banished them at once. Remus rubbed his wrists cautiously but did not look up.

"Have they been hurting you?"

"No, no more than iron chains would," Remus rasped.

Severus wanted to say so much, but he could not find the words. What could he possibly say that would atone for his actions? Where would he even start? The only thing he could bring himself to say was a simple question.

"What happened?"

"The bite? It was an accident – or no, not as such, but I did not go out looking for it, if that's what you think. It had everything to do with my father and nothing to do with me. You see, when I was a little boy he helped wipe out an entire werewolf pack and the lone survivor came to find us on the full moon after. I don't remember what made me go outside that night, but I did. The rest is history."

Remus paused to catch his breath. Severus gave him some water to soothe his voice.

"I thought your father had some kind of administrative position before he left the Ministry."

Remus' laugh was weak and hollow.

"Is that what he told you? He was hunting dark creatures, Severus. He killed people like me for a living. Granted, he didn't do it himself, he only tracked information and assembled dossiers, delegated Aurors and handled the paperwork afterwards." He swallowed. "I suppose, I have to be grateful he didn't turn me in, but I know he only spared me because I'm his son and he loves me. He wouldn't have hesitated to execute someone else's child. I love my father dearly, but I don't think he's a good man."

"Why – why didn't you tell me? I mean, I can imagine why, but you must have known I would find out eventually," Severus said at last, when he noticed the silence growing too long.

Remus hummed as though caught up in a dream or memory.

"I remember when you began courting me, and when you proposed and when we married – all the time Sirius kept telling me that it was madness, that it could only end badly." He exhaled noisily and shook his head. "And I knew he was right, of course, I knew. But I didn't put a stop to it and almost killed you.

"Well," Severus said, his voice faltering. "At least you did everything in your power to protect me."

Remus' haggard face became even paler, which made the dark circles under his eyes, the bruise on his temple, and the blue tinge of his lips stand out more.

"I couldn't be sure it would work. You make it sound much nobler than it was. It wasn't noble at all. I did everything except the obvious, everything except the right thing to do: telling you and staying away. You've been nothing but kind to me and I've repaid you with lies and deceit."

His voice broke and he had to gather himself.

"I thought I was protecting you, truly, I thought I was thinking of you the whole time, but I realise now that I was only concerned for myself. It was selfishness from start to finish."

"I wouldn't call it selfish," Severus said, his stomach feeling like a cavern.

"But it was. I fell in love with you and I wanted to keep you. And I deluded myself into believing I could handle it somehow, that I could find some kind of solution, when I know all too well there is none. I didn't care that I was putting you and everyone else in danger. I'm putting you in danger still. I should have been strong enough to put your well-being above my own. Wouldn't I have done so, if I really loved you? I don't know what it is I'm feeling, but it's not selfless. It's not pure. And it's not truthful."

He hunched in on himself and buried his face in his scraped hands.

"I am so, so sorry. I wish I could have been better for your sake."

The whisper was barely audible. Remus' skin was ashen all over and his breath was rattling in his lungs. Alarmed, Severus reached for him. Remus collapsed into his side, apparently unable to hold himself up any longer. Severus managed get an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

"I know I have no right to ask, but will you do something for me?" Remus gasped, then continued in a rush, slurring the words into Severus' neck. "Don't let them take me. You can just put me to sleep. You can tell my parents that I got sick and that it was over too quickly to call for anyone. No one has to know. The people who knew are not responsible for my actions; there is no need to drag them into this. Or to sully your name, when you have every chance to make a fresh start. It will be over so quickly, and then all will be well again."

Severus recognised the searing blackness in his chest; it was his heart breaking.

Remus had gone still in his arms. Severus shook him to bring him back to his senses.

"You have to stay awake. Everything will be all right, I promise. But you have to stay awake."

But Remus was not listening any longer, his eyes were rolling behind his lids and the last thing he uttered before losing consciousness was: "I'm so cold."

Severus shook him again without success. He was gathering Remus' body in his arms when he saw something green in one upper corner of the room. Small, scale-like leaves were breaking through the plaster, followed by rapidly growing slender shoots which soon covered every corner of the room.

Severus did not stop to consider, if what he saw was real. He lifted Remus into his arms, staggering a little under the dead-weight. The quickly thickening branches with their small round cones had already reached the door, running like an entangled network of green veins along the walls.

Severus broke through and ran. His steps echoed through the dark house. He did not stop before he reached the entrance hall, which was quiet and undisturbed as on any other night. Panting, he looked around, searching for signs of more unwelcome vegetation, but there was nothing.

He saw no possible explanation. The other instances had been the result of a dream or a simple illusion, hardly surprising after hitting one's head; and none of his other gardening mishaps came close. The more exotic specimen in his greenhouse could be temperamental at times, usually breaking a pot they did not like or refusing to bloom, if he did not speak to them for too long, but even the malicious ones were fairly easy to deal with. But whatever they might do to express their displeasure, it was confined to plants that were already there. Severus had never planted a cypress in his life and they were certainly not indigenous to the region.

He made no conscious plan to go upstairs to their respective bedrooms, only thought of Remus needing rest and warmth. Nearing his destination, he could hear something like the cries of birds.

He could not believe his eyes, when he saw what was waiting for them behind the door of Remus' room. The sharp-beaked birds that had been drawn on the wallpaper by an expert Italian hand were clawing and pecking their way out of the two-dimensional surface, producing such a racket that Severus was even more astounded that none of his staff had been jerked out of their slumber. When the first bird that had freed itself from its papery prison came flying at him talons first, Severus summoned his last scrap of energy to slam the door shut with a wandless command and lock it for good.

"What on earth is going on here?" he whispered to himself.

Bewildered, Severus entered his own room instead. He put Remus down on the bed and tucked the covers around him to provide some warmth, before lighting a roaring fire in the fireplace. He did not know what to do. He did not know what ailed his husband, but feared that involving his healer might expose Remus' lycanthropy. Mr Perry had apparently not suspected anything of the kind during his last visit, but Remus had been perfectly healthy then. Now though – with the traces of Remus' ordeal still visible and the closeness of the full moon – Severus could not rule out that Perry might reach certain conclusions.

He paced the room, uncertain about what to do. He was sure Remus was in need of more help than he himself could give, but if he doubted even Perry's loyalty, who else was he supposed to call for. A name kept running through his mind. Narcissa had given it to him years ago in case of emergencies, as she had called it then, belonging to a retired mediwitch willing to do virtually anything for the right price. But he dismissed the idea shortly, convinced he would only set himself up for blackmail, if he contacted her.

Then he heard the shouts.

"Snape! Snape! Come quick!"

Severus rushed out of the room and then down, down, down to where Filch's voice was coming from. He felt a strange kind oppression once he stepped outside. Stormclouds were gathering in the sky and the wind whipped his hair into his face. Looking around him he saw numerous signs of destruction. Some of the sheds used for storage had caved in, fences had fallen over, bits and pieces of the facade were raining down from the building. And there, close to where Severus thought his husband's underground prison had been, was a long black swath of scorched ground.

But Severus kept running until he reached the group by the tower. There they were standing in their nightclothes: Filch with his cat on his arm and the dog by his side, Mrs Fleet in her nightcap which she had to press against her head lest it was blown off, her mouth breathing brother with his chicken legs peeking out from a too short nightshirt, and the two maids – one a scrawny and tall redhead, the other a short and plump blonde – all of them wide-eyed and frightened.

He did not need to ask what had driven them outside at this time of night. Before him the tower was swaying, its foundation cracking from the strain. At last the wildly hooting owls were taking flight, and the tower – with a furious noise of breaking wood, crumbling stone and screeching metal – collapsed.

Severus herded them all back to a safer distance, but they were caught in a wave of dust and debris regardless. When the worst had settled down, they were dirty and coughing, had watery eyes and buzzing ears.

"You have to go! It's not safe here," Severus ordered, probably louder than it was necessary.

He handed Filch over to Mrs Fleet and the cat and dog to the maids. They did not argue and Apparated one after the other.

"But Lupin," Filch cried, only a moment before he was whisked away by Mrs Fleet. "You can't just leave him–"

Severus was the only one left outside. He surveyed the damage of his property weighed down with leaden limbs and an even heavier heart. What a faithless creature he was. Remus had been right. The land had treated him well, had welcomed him and provided for him; had even gifted him with those invaluable spores, because he had not tried to tame and shackle it. And now it would repay his cruelty in kind. It would take everything. The tower, the house as a whole, was only the beginning.

But at least, he told himself, there was still a chance to save Remus. He raced back inside. Out of breath and exhausted in body and spirit, he finally sank to his knees beside the bed where his husband lay. The wind had blown open the windows and extinguished the fire. Fallen leaves were scattered over the bed, and Severus brushed them off as far as he could reach from his current position.

Resting his feverish forehead on Remus' still, cold hand, he said: "Forgive me. I know that no words of mine can excuse what I did. But please. Please come back to me. You have called yourself selfish, but I have been worse. I was vindictive and cruel. I've played judge, jury and executioner. I found you guilty without giving you a chance to defend yourself, and wouldn't have listened, if you had tried to offer an explanation. I let my resentment rule me. I didn't believe in you or myself. I neither trusted you nor my own judgement. I assumed the worst, and nothing else but the worst, when I should have known better."

He looked up into Remus' motionless face.

"And all this is only the latest of my crimes. I've been more selfish in the last two years than you could ever be. Don't think I don't love you, because I do. And I've loved you then, but that was not the reason why I chose you."

His eyes burned and he had to look away.

"I chose you, because I thought you were beneath me – in fortune and consequence, and even in intelligence. Because you had fallen on hard times, so I wouldn't have to be grateful and deferent to you and your family. No, you were the ones who were indebted and had to be grateful, and I wanted you to feel it. I wanted you to be dependent on me, and to enforce your loyalty with that dependence. And my love for you didn't stop me from making a bill out of the advantages and disadvantages of our union. And it didn't stop me from considering other, more prosperous matches while I was already courting you; and I don't doubt that I would have thrown you over, if I had found one. And then I married you, not because my love for you prevailed, but because I expected you to be the least inconvenient."

He had to pause to collect his troubled thoughts.

"I do so love looking at you. Though I don't think I've ever truly seen you before. I've wanted you very much and I wanted a spouse, but I – I don't think I've wanted a real person, a human being of flesh and blood. I only wanted to be loved and adored, I wanted to be listened to and obeyed, comforted and touched. I didn't care what you wanted. I took your happiness for granted, because, well, what could you possibly have wanted, when you already had me."

Disgusted with himself, he covered his face with his hand.

"And so I've treated you as I would a piece of furniture. I've neglected and abandoned you, when I could have been here, when I could have been home, perhaps even every night, but I feared you'd be a distraction and I didn't want to be burdened with your company and concerns, when I had work to do. I've used you and called it love. I took and took from you and gave nothing back. And when you at last acted like a real human being, I lashed out at you and hurt you and caged you, and exposed myself as the vicious creature so many believe me to be."

Severus rose eventually and climbed onto the bed to lie down next to Remus.

"You doubted your own love to be love. But what is mine in comparison? You've given me everything: yourself, your magic, your lifeblood. And that can only make me feel more wretched, because I'm not worthy of it. Is even asking your forgiveness not the epitome of selfishness? But I will do it anyway. So please, forgive me."

He took Remus' face into his hands and stroked his thumbs over the sunken cheeks.

"Will you not wake up?" he pleaded. "If only to tell me no and condemn me."

Although Severus thought he could detect some warmth returning to the skin under his fingers, Remus did not stir. Battling the aching weight that seemed to compress his ribcage, he did the only thing he could think of. The only and last thing that might help.

It was not done among wizards any more, or at least not in the more civilised circles. It was something animals and unwashed Muggles did. It was crude, risky and savage, and he shuddered as he thought about his mother's scar and the promise to himself that he would never be like his father. He had never believed that it could create some kind of mythical bond beyond the mundane before, and he did not believe it now, but he fastened his lips over the spot between Remus' neck and shoulder, close to the collar bone, nevertheless and bit down.

Severus heard a gasp that was not his own. Holding on, he made sure to draw blood and leave a mark that would be permanent. Then he let go and wiped his mouth carelessly with the back of his hand. Remus' breaths were growing stronger and his eyelids fluttered. Cradling Remus' head with one hand and sliding the other arm behind his shoulders to lift him into a better position, Severus bent over to bring Remus' mouth where it needed to be.

"Come now," he said. "I'll let you sleep as long as you like, if you only wake up long enough for this."

Moving sluggishly and without aim at first, Remus managed to open his lips eventually.

"Yes, that's it. Just like that."

When the bite came, it shocked Severus with the intensity of the pain, but he held Remus' head in place until he could be satisfied with the result.

"Yes–," he praised. "That's it. That's good."

He did not let go afterwards, but forced his tired eyes to watch Remus' face with his blood-stained lips for any sign of change.

It came gradually. The colour of Remus' skin returned from its deathly pallor to something close enough to normal, his breathing and heartbeat grew stronger, and the blank stillness vanished by and by.

As though emerging from the bottom of the deepest lake, he whispered Severus' name in confusion. And upon seeing the fresh wound on Severus' neck, he only blinked and shook his head.

"What have you done?" Remus whispered, his fingers hovering over the broken skin.

"Bound you to this world, and to me, in the only way I knew how," Severus replied, before pressing a lingering kiss on Remus' forehead. "Looks like you're keeping me after all."

Remus smiled. It was small and weak, like a pale winter sun only just visible behind grey clouds. But it was enough to make Severus give into the fear and grief which had threatened to overwhelm him for so long. He could neither stop his body from trembling, nor the tears slipping down his nose. He was splayed open, and – perhaps for the first time ever – he let himself be seen without disguise.

Even though he thought himself undeserving, ungrateful, presumptuous and a pitiful picture of an alpha, he let himself be held and comforted and hushed, until he slipped away into the peace of sleep.

* * *

It took time for things to get better. Rebuilding was slow, but Severus preferred being overly cautious to another collapse. Filch with his pets, Mrs Fleet and her brother, as well as the two maids came back when the house was ready for inhabitation. Filch's behaviour in particular transformed into a peculiar blend of loyalty and disapprobation to Severus himself, and the former dislike of Remus, though still present, was now tempered by a grudging protectiveness that earned Severus dark looks and a poke or two with a rake or broom whenever he so much as raised his voice in his husband's presence.

His failure to sign an exclusive contract with St. Mungo's was a setback, though the losses were manageable through downsizing and his regret was mostly limited to his professional pride. The business remained prosperous on a smaller scale as Severus dropped the simpler mass products like cough drops and Pepper-Up Potion for good to concentrate his work and that of his brewers solely on specialised concoctions that not every half-witted apothecary in the country could do for themselves.

Severus' most serious and lasting concern was his husband. Remus had grown quiet and elusive after those few days of chaos. It seemed as though something unseen had a hold on him, though Severus could not say whether it might be death itself or the land surrounding them. He roamed through the woods and fields for days on end, only coming back after dark to slip into Severus' bed smelling like the wind and wild herbs and bringing back hot kisses and tender hands. Despite his fear that one day Remus would not return to him, Severus never tried to hold him back. Instead he worked, saw the people he was able to tolerate, and tried his best not to fall back into old habits.

Eventually, Remus' smiles and laughter grew more frequent, he spent more time inside and with Severus, started talking again and pursued his interests. Severus let Remus visit whoever he liked and go wherever he pleased. Perhaps he was not exactly thrilled to have Remus' old friends or his parents occasionally poking around his property, but he bore it with something that at least resembled graciousness.

Remus' heat did not come. Although Severus could not deny feeling a pang of disappointment in the privacy of his own mind, he was quick to quiet down any remarks or reproaches from outsiders directed at his husband with a viciousness that never failed to shock the offender in question. After all, Severus still had a quick temper, he had merely improved his ability to control it better, and therefore unleash it against worthier targets when necessary.

* * *

"We should really get you one of your own," Severus said, shielding his eyes against the bright morning sun.

He was sitting on the beach of a small private bay on the Cornish coast two summers later, watching idly as his husband used Severus' own wand to put up an airy bulwark against the sun out of some light, silky cloth he conjured with a graceful flourish, so that Severus could have the luxury of shade while still feeling the fresh breeze on his skin.

"I don't want you to get in trouble."

"That is rich coming from you – with your, well, let's call it playful approach to following the rules."

"That's different. I don't mind a little trouble for myself, but I'd mind it very much when it concerns you. And I'm getting along just fine, thank you."

Severus huffed, but did not object. The decrease of Remus' magical power pained him still. Patiently taught by his mother and later his friends, Remus had been able to perform a rather impressive variety of wandless magic before, but most of it was simply gone. He was still a quick learner under Severus' continued tutelage, but it seemed he would be dependent on a wand for the rest of his life. Sometimes Severus thought it would be easier to bear, if Remus resented him for it.

It was a constant reminder of his worst sins, just like the premature flecks of grey in Remus' hair and his lack of children despite being so fond of them, unlike Severus himself. In a regrettable outburst a few weeks earlier, Severus had accused him of carelessness regarding his own safety and that of their potential children, because the protective ritual he had conducted would probably kill him, if Severus died first. But Remus had remained defiant, had actually laughed in his face in exasperation, when he told Severus: "It can't be reversed. Every bit of magic has its price and if you ask as much of it as I have done, there is no taking it back. Even if it could be reversed, my dearest love, you can't make me."

Severus made a face when Remus settled down beside him.

"You're getting sand everywhere."

Remus smiled and nuzzled a flushed cheek against Severus'.

"Hmm, and I'm planning to get sand into even more places by the end of the day."

Severus did not deign the remark with an answer, though he pulled Remus close when he laid his head on Severus' shoulder.

"Well, I had actually intended something a little grander, but it's not as if we won't have time for a few more extravagant locations before we're expected home. And no, I certainly don't consider a trifling three-month honeymoon as excessive, when it's been such a long time coming – never mind. Do you like it?"

"Yes," Remus said, closing his eyes and inhaling the summer breeze. "I've missed the sea."

"You never came back?"

"No. I think leaving broke my father's heart, and he couldn't stomach returning after that." Tilting his head up, he drew Severus into a kiss. "Thank you. For everything."

Then he got up and let his clothes fall where he stood.

"What are you doing?" Severus hissed.

But Remus only shrugged his shoulders, grinning.

"I thought this is why you brought us here, so we wouldn't be disturbed."

"Well, yes – but – that's, that's no reason to – you're going to burn to a crisp!"

"I'm too hot for clothes and I'm going for a swim anyway," Remus said as he leaned down to give Severus one last kiss. "I'll see you later."

Severus sighed in contentment, then lay down on the outspread blankets amidst the water-sounds and, looking up into the woven blue, curled his naked toes into the sand.

THE END