Aftermaths, Part 104

by Geri ([email protected])

Rating: Mostly PG-13, but NC-17 for overall story

Pairing: Snape/Lupin, Theodore/Blaise

Warning: AU; events that occurred at the end of Order of the Phoenix were significantly altered from the book.

Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, and Phoenix Rising.

Summary: The various characters deal with the aftermath of the war, and Snape and Lupin try to build a family together with Theodore and Dylan. However, some people are unable to let go of the past...

Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Hob, who belongs to William Mayne; no money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
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Lukas testified in court as to how the Diggorys and Gravenors had conspired to fake his death and hide him away on the Gravenor estate. Lamont Whitby, of course, protested that this was all hearsay and that there was no proof to support his claims.

"The fact that Master Diggory is alive should be proof enough that something is amiss," Morrigan said mildly, "since his family claimed that he was dead. But I have witnesses who will testify that Amos Diggory admitted to having a part in the scheme to cheat his nephew of his inheritance."

"Then call forth your witnesses," Madam Bones said.

"My first witness is Harry Potter," Morrigan declared dramatically, and the spectators gasped. Harry entered the room and nervously took a seat in the chain-covered chair. He had stood trial here himself once, the summer just before he'd started his fifth year at Hogwarts, and he didn't have fond memories of either the chair or the room.

"Mr. Potter," Morrigan said, "you witnessed a confrontation between Amos Diggory and Selima Snape after the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match in November, did you not?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied.

"Please tell the court what you heard, Mr. Potter."

Harry squirmed in his seat slightly, and the chains rustled, clinking in a restless manner. He cast an apologetic glance at Mr. Diggory, but Cedric's father refused to meet his gaze, staring straight ahead at the Wizengamot, looking rigid and tense, as if he were fighting to hold his anger in.

"Mr. Potter?" Morrigan said gently.

Harry took a deep breath and said, "Mr. Diggory said that it would have disgraced the Diggory name if a werewolf inherited the title. And he said that Master Bleddri's--I mean, Master Diggory's father squandered the family wealth trying to buy a cure for lycanthropy. Then Lady Selima accused him of killing Master Diggory's father."

"And what did Amos Diggory say in response, Mr. Potter?" Morrigan asked.

"He denied it," Harry replied. "He seemed very upset by that accusation, and he said, 'I loved my brother, even though I thought he was a fool! I admit that my parents and I conspired with the Gravenors to fake Cyril's death, but I did not kill Cynric!'"

"Are you absolutely sure that is what he said, Mr. Potter?" Morrigan asked.

"Yes," Harry said, nodding. "I'm positive. I remember it clearly because it was such a shock. I had no idea that Master Bleddri was related to the Diggorys."

"Harry, do you like Master Diggory?" Morrigan asked.

Harry was startled by the question. Ms. De Lacy had talked with him before the trial, explaining the kinds of questions she intended to ask him, but this had not been one of them. "Er...I guess so," he replied, not sure how he should answer. Did she want him to tell the court that Master Diggory was a good teacher? Then he belatedly realized that his response sounded rather unenthusiastic, and hastily clarified, "I mean, he's a very strict teacher, but his classes are interesting, and I've learned a lot from them."

"Not as strict as Professor Snape, I'll bet," Morrigan said with a mischievous smile, and Harry couldn't help but grin in response, and several people in the courtroom chuckled.

Madam Bones pounded her gavel on the desk, and the laughter died away. "If you could get to the point, Ms. De Lacy?" she said impatiently.

"Mr. Potter," Morrigan said, her manner brisk and professional once more, "do you like Master Diggory well enough to lie for him?"

"No!" Harry said, even more startled by this question. "Of course not! I mean, not that I don't like him, but..."

"You would not give false testimony to help him?" Morrigan asked.

Harry finally caught on to the purpose behind her questions, and answered firmly, "No, I wouldn't."

"Do you have any grudge against the Diggory family?" Morrigan persisted. "Is there any reason you might want to hurt them, by favoring your teacher's claim over that of Amos Diggory?"

"No!" Harry protested. "I...I liked Cedric. He treated me like a friend, and we worked together to win the Triwizard Tournament. I don't want to hurt his parents. I feel bad about even being here...I don't know whose side to take. I like Master Bleddri, but I don't want to do anything to hurt Cedric's dad, either."

Tears filled Harry's eyes, and Morrigan suppressed a smile of satisfaction. She felt a little bad about manipulating the boy like this, but his sincerity was making an obvious impression on the court. "You don't have to take sides, Harry," she said gently. "That's the Wizengamot's job. All you have to do is tell the truth."

"Everything I've said is true," Harry said softly.

"Then I have no more questions," Morrigan said.

She took her seat, and Lamont Whitby stepped up to question Harry. "Mr. Potter," he said with a pleasant smile that didn't reach his eyes, "is Professor Remus Lupin a friend of yours?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, eyeing the lawyer warily.

"He was your father's best friend, if I am not mistaken?" Whitby asked casually. "And your godfather's as well?"

"Yes," Harry said. "They all went to school together."

"And are you very close to Professor Lupin?" Whitby continued. "Do you regard him as, perhaps, an uncle?"

"I suppose so," Harry replied cautiously.

"Professor Lupin is a werewolf," Whitby said, still with that false smile. "As is Master Bleddri--" He paused, then continued in a voice tinged with sarcasm, "Excuse me, I mean, Master Diggory. Who is also a friend of Professor Lupin's, I believe."

"Yes, but--" Harry said, beginning to see where Whitby was going with this.

"Perhaps you would not lie to help Master Diggory," Whitby practically purred. "But might you not be tempted to stretch the truth a little in order to help your late father's dear friend?"

"How does helping Master Diggory help Professor Lupin?" Harry demanded.

"Professor Lupin has led a life of hardship and poverty because of his lycanthropy," Whitby replied. "It would be a great triumph for all werewolves if Master Diggory became the head of an old, respected, and wealthy family. And of course I'm sure that the Professor would like to see his friend win an inheritance."

"I didn't lie!" Harry said hotly.

"Not even to help a friend?" Whitby asked.

"No!" Harry insisted.

"Are you telling me that you've never lied before, Mr. Potter?" Whitby asked skeptically. "Not even, say, to avoid getting into trouble at school because of some boyish mischief or prank?" Whitby grinned in a genial manner as Harry flushed. "Nothing to be ashamed of, Mr. Potter; all boys get up to a little harmless mischief."

"I wouldn't lie about something this important!" Harry said.

"You wouldn't lie about something important?" Whitby asked, his face serious now. "Not even to save someone's life or correct an injustice? You didn't lie to help your godfather escape capture when he was a fugitive? Or lie to Headmistress Umbridge about participating in an illegal secret society?"

"Sirius was innocent!" Harry protested. "And in the D.A., we were just learning spells to protect ourselves--"

"Oh, I'm sure you had good reasons," Whitby said soothingly. "Perhaps you thought you had good reason for helping Master Diggory--"

"I'm not lying!" Harry shouted.

"I must object," Morrigan said, rising to her feet. "Is Mr. Whitby calling Mr. Potter's integrity into question? May I remind the court that Mr. Potter defeated Lord Voldemort at great risk to his own life?"

"No one is questioning Mr. Potter's bravery or heroism," Whitby said. "I'm only saying that a young boy might be a little misguided, with the best of intentions..."

"Mr. Potter," Madam Bones said, "are you absolutely certain that your testimony is accurate?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said firmly.

"You did not, as Mr. Whitby phrased it, stretch the truth a little, either of your own will or at someone else's urging?"

"No, ma'am!" Harry said emphatically. "I felt bad about testifying against Mr. Diggory, but Professor Lupin, Ms. De Lacy, my godfather, and my..." He faltered a little, as he sought the right word to describe Professor Blackmore. "...my stepmother all told me to tell the truth. No one asked me to lie."

"Very well, then," Bones said. "You have Mr. Potter's statement, Mr. Whitby. I suggest you move on to a different line of questioning."

"No further questions," Whitby said sullenly.

"I have one more question for Mr. Potter," Morrigan said. "Why wouldn't you lie to help Master Diggory, if it would help all werewolves and make Professor Lupin happy?"

Harry stared at her in confusion. "Because...it wouldn't make him happy, ma'am. I mean, I'm sure he'd like to see Master Diggory get his inheritance, but he wouldn't want to do it in an underhanded way. He said it wasn't up to me to determine Mr. Diggory's guilt or innocence, and that I should just tell the truth about what I heard. He told me that I didn't have to take sides." He thought of how hard Lupin had tried to be fair to the Slytherins, and of how he had disapproved of the pranks that James and Sirius used to play. "I think...I think he'd be disappointed in me if I lied."

"And Professor Lupin's opinion means a lot to you, Harry?" Morrigan asked quietly.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said firmly.

"No further questions," Morrigan said with a satisfied smile. She called a few more witnesses, including a couple of Hogwarts staff members who testified to hearing the same thing that Harry had, and upon further questioning, stated that while they respected Master Diggory as a colleague, they were not particularly close to him.

"He's polite, but keeps to himself," Professor Vector explained. "He doesn't socialize much with the staff, except perhaps Professor Lupin and Professor Snape."

"Werewolves stick together," Whitby said, sneering a little.

"I suppose so," Vector replied, giving him a distasteful look. "Now, if we're done here, I have a class to teach."

Morrigan's last witness was Dumbledore. Whitby made a point of noting that the Headmaster was friendly with Master Diggory and had personally brought him on the staff, but didn't quite dare to accuse Dumbledore of lying. "No further questions," Whitby said in a resigned voice, tacitly admitting defeat. After a brief, whispered consultation with his client, Whitby called Amos Diggory to the stand.

"Mr. Diggory," he asked, "did you conspire to fake your nephew's death?"

"Yes, I did," Amos replied in a level voice.

"So Harry Potter is not a liar after all," Morrigan said in a tart voice.

Madam Bones rapped her gavel sharply on her desk. "That will be enough, Ms. De Lacy," she said sternly. "You will have a chance to question the witness later."

"I beg the court's pardon," Morrigan murmured, bowing her head in a show of contrition--and to hide the faint smile that crossed her lips.

Whitby glared at her, then continued, "And why did you do that, Mr. Diggory?"

"To protect my family, and Cyril himself," Amos replied. Lukas snorted contemptuously, and Morrigan placed her hand on his arm and shook her head slightly as Madam Bones gave him a disapproving look. The werewolf subsided, but glared at his uncle.

"What do you mean, Mr. Diggory?" Whitby asked innocently.

"My brother broke the law when he did not register Cyril as a werewolf with the Ministry," Amos explained. "Perhaps things are a little different now, but back then, werewolves were feared and despised, and regarded as monsters. Cynric wanted his son to pass as human, to avoid him being ostracized by society, and also to avoid tarnishing the family reputation. But as Cyril grew older, it became harder and harder to hide his lycanthropy, to explain why he wasn't going to school. Then my brother was killed in an accident...and well, I know what we did was wrong, but I was afraid that the Ministry might punish my family if they knew that we had been harboring an unregistered werewolf." He added virtuously, "I did not care about myself so much, but my parents were in poor health, and I was afraid that they would not survive a trial and possible prison sentence, or even just the stress and humiliation of a public reprimand." A few members of the Wizengamot made sympathetic noises, and Lukas's face turned red with anger. Morrigan whispered into his ear, urging him to remain calm.

"You were concerned about Cyril also?" Whitby prompted.

"Yes," Amos said. "I was afraid that the Ministry might take him away, lock him up in Azkaban, or some institution. But neither was my family equipped to deal with a werewolf--you must understand, there was no Wolfsbane Potion back then, no way to safely control a werewolf during the full moon." He shuddered. "If you have ever heard the sound of a werewolf's howls, the sound of him hurling himself against the door so hard that it seemed it would break off its hinges...and that was when Cyril was just a child. Can you imagine trying to deal with a full-grown werewolf?"

"You liar!" Lukas shouted, jumping to his feet. "You never even came near me during the full moon! We moved out of the mansion when I was four years old, because your parents wouldn't allow a werewolf to live in their home!"

"Master Diggory!" Madam Bones cried, pounding the gavel loudly. "You will restrain yourself if you do not want be found in contempt of court!"

Morrigan grabbed Lukas's arm and hissed, "Stop it! You're playing right into their hands!"

Lukas looked over and saw Whitby's and Amos's smug smiles. He took a deep breath, then bowed in the direction of the Wizengamot, and said, "I apologize for losing my temper."

Bones nodded curtly, and Arthur Weasley gave him a small, sympathetic smile. "Take your seat then, Master Diggory. And I expect there to be no further interruptions; your lawyer will have a chance to challenge the veracity of Mr. Diggory's statements, if you feel they are in doubt."

"Yes, ma'am," Lukas said through gritted teeth as Amos and Whitby continued to smirk, then bowed again and took his seat.

"Now, if you can pick up where you left off, before you were so rudely interrupted?" Whitby said pointedly, and Bones frowned, giving him a look of warning.

"We did not want Cyril to be taken away--he could have been imprisoned, or even put down, as an unregistered werewolf," Amos replied promptly. "On the other hand, we didn't feel that we were equipped to deal with restraining a werewolf during the full moon. And my sister-in-law was in a state of shock following my brother's death; she was clearly not up to handling the problem, either. My in-laws, the Gravenors, had a country estate in Wales, and they offered to shelter both Anya and Cyril. It was far from civilization, and it would be much easier to hide a werewolf there. We told everyone that Cyril had died in the accident with his father, so that no one would wonder why he had disappeared."

"So you left your nephew in the custody of his maternal grandparents, believing that he was in a place where he would be well-cared for by his family, yet not a danger to anyone else?" Whitby asked.

Amos nodded. "Yes. I know that we broke the law, but it seemed like the best thing to do at the time, to protect both my family and Cyril."

"No further questions," Whitby said.

Morrigan stood and walked over to question Amos. "To protect Cyril?" she asked sarcastically. "Wasn't it actually to protect your family's reputation? Didn't you say at the Quidditch match that it would have disgraced the family name if a werewolf inherited the title?" Amos hesitated, as if trying to decide whether or not he should try to deny it. "I can call back my witnesses to jog your memory," Morrigan offered helpfully.

Amos glared at her. "Yes, that would have disgraced my family. Back then, lycanthropy was regarded as something shameful. Many people still think it is."

"Including you?" Morrigan asked. Amos remained silent, and she did not press him, but moved on to her next question. "So, this is more about the inheritance than about a desire to protect your nephew, isn't it? Isn't it true that your brother was first in line to inherit the title? But when he died, and his son was conveniently declared dead and spirited away, you became the heir instead."

"I didn't do it for the title!" Amos insisted. "I did it to protect my family!"

"But Cyril is the son of the eldest son of the Diggory clan, so he should have inherited the title, not you."

"That's not true!" Amos snarled. "The eldest son is customarily the heir, but the head of the clan can choose someone else if he wishes! My father wanted to disown Cynric, but my dear brother threatened to go public with Cyril's lycanthropy if he did! He said he would tell everyone that the lycanthropy came from our side of the family, even though no one knew for sure where it came from!"

"Weren't you also concerned about the amount of money that Cynric was wasting, trying to buy cures for his son's lycanthropy?" Morrigan demanded. "Didn't you say that he was squandering the family wealth? I don't hear a great deal of love and concern in your words, Mr. Diggory--at least, not for your brother and nephew. It sounds like you were more concerned about preserving the family fortune."

"I was concerned that there would not be enough money left to support my parents in their old age, yes," Amos said, glaring at Morrigan hatefully. "I often fought with my brother, and we never saw eye-to-eye, but..." His voice shook, and tears gleamed in his eyes. "But he was still my brother, and I loved him. I was devastated when he died."

"So devastated," Morrigan said skeptically, "that you immediately faked your nephew's death and shipped him off to the Welsh countryside."

"For his own protection!" Amos protested.

"For his own protection," Morrigan said softly, "Cyril and his mother were imprisoned in a small, leaky cottage where they had no contact with other people, where they were not even allowed to visit their relatives in the nearby Gravenor mansion, where Anya Diggory fell ill and died for lack of medical care?"

"I didn't know anything about that!" Amos said defensively. "The Gravenors were supposed to be taking care of them!"

"You never once visited the nephew you claim to have been so concerned about?" Morrigan asked relentlessly. "You never once stopped by to make sure that he was being well cared for? You never once stopped by to comfort your brother's widow in her grief?"

Amos flushed. "The thought of seeing them brought back painful memories of my brother," he said. "I regretted that Cynric died while we were still at odds with each other. So I did not visit my nephew and sister-in-law. That is shameful on my part, perhaps, but Anya was the Gravenors' daughter. I assumed that they would take good care of her and Cyril."

"And when Cyril ran away, after Anya died?" Morrigan persisted. "Didn't you think that you should find your nephew, to make sure that he would be protected--or at least to protect the public from an unregistered werewolf on the loose?"

"I--I didn't know about that," Amos said quickly. "The Gravenors said that Anya and Cyril both died of the same illness. I never saw the body, but I had no reason to believe that they were lying. We couldn't have another funeral for him, since he had already been publicly declared dead."

"Very convenient," Morrigan drawled, "how Cyril keeps dying. And it's also very convenient that the Gravenors are dead and unable to contest your version of events."

"Believe it or not, it's the truth!" Amos snapped.

"So you say," Morrigan said with obvious sarcasm.

"Objection!" shouted Whitby.

"Was that a question, Ms. De Lacy?" Bones asked, a note of warning in her voice.

"No, ma'am," Morrigan replied. "I'll move on. Mr. Diggory, as you can see, your nephew is not dead. If you were as concerned about him as you claimed to be, should you not be overjoyed? He is no longer a danger to himself or anyone else, thanks to the invention of the Wolfsbane Potion. Your objection to Cyril inheriting the title is no longer valid, so should you not cede the title to him?"

"I will not!" shouted Amos. "I promised my parents that I would protect the family honor and that I would never let Cynric's son inherit the title!"

"Master Diggory cannot be denied the title simply because he is a werewolf," Morrigan said. "Werewolves are now equal to humans under the law."

"Cynric was not worthy of the title!" Amos shouted. "He blackmailed and threatened my parents, he broke the law many times over--not just by failing to register Cyril, but by purchasing illegal potions every time some swindler claimed to have a cure for lycanthropy, and he wasted not just his own money, but the family fortune on those potions, most of which were useless!"

"Even if what you say is true," Morrigan said, "those sound like the actions of a loving parent, desperate to help his only son, who was suffering from a debilitating disease. And even if that is reason enough to deny Cynric the title, Cyril was only a child at the time. He did nothing wrong."

"Did nothing wrong?" Amos asked incredulously. "I've heard that he was a criminal--a thief and a smuggler and Merlin knows what else!"

"'You've heard'?" Morrigan asked mockingly. "As I recall, your lawyer objected to what he called 'hearsay'."

"Those are serious accusations, Mr. Diggory," Bones said sternly. "Do you have any proof to back them up?"

Amos looked at Whitby, who hesitated, then said, "Not yet, Madam Bones, but we are in the process of gathering evidence to prove that Master Diggory is unfit to inherit the title."

"Very well," Bones said. "When you have such evidence, you may present it, but until then, the court judges only evidence, not unfounded rumors."

As Amos fumed, Morrigan smiled and said, "I have no more questions for Mr. Diggory."

Neither side had any more witnesses to call, so court was adjourned for the day.

"We didn't do too badly," Morrigan told Lukas. "Harry's testimony went very well; Lamont was a fool to try and call him a liar. It only made Amos look like the liar, to deny what he said, and then be forced to admit that he did say it after all. And it became pretty clear in court today that Amos is a bigot; unfortunately, half of the Wizengamot shares that bigotry. And also, if Amos's unfounded rumors about you are inadmissible, so are your suspicions that your father may have been murdered. We can prove that Amos faked your death, but we can't prove that the Gravenors mistreated you and tried to kill you. Everyone involved is dead, except for Amos, so it's your word against his." She gave him a stern look. "And you mustn't lose control like that again! I told you before, it will only give credence to Amos's claims that you are a beast."

"I'm sorry," Lukas muttered. "It was hard, having to sit there and listen to all those lies."

"I know," Morrigan said sympathetically. "But your behavior must be beyond reproach, since at least half of the people in that courtroom don't think you're really human." She smiled. "Bear with it for the duration of the trial, and then you can laugh in their faces when you're named Lord Diggory."

"You're right," Lukas said. "I won't lose control again. And I really appreciate everything you're doing for me."

"No need to thank me," Morrigan said with a smile. "It's my job, and Lady Selima is paying me quite well, I assure you. By the way, we'll have to come up with a way to counter Lamont, if he can come up with proof of your past illegal activities. Your status as a war hero will help cancel that out, but still..."

"Don't worry," Lukas said with a sly grin. "I have an idea."

Morrigan laughed when he explained his idea to her. "Of course! I should have thought of that myself!" She glanced at her watch. "Would you like to discuss it over lunch?"

"Er...I was supposed to meet a friend for lunch," Lukas said. "Is it all right if I owl the information to your office later?"

"Of course," Morrigan replied, giving Lukas a smile that was a little too knowing for his comfort. I'll see you next week, then, Master Diggory."

Lukas headed to the Leaky Cauldron, wondering why everyone and his mother suddenly seemed to be interested in his personal life. Increasing his irritation was the fact that the innkeeper smiled knowingly when he asked for a private room. This was the third week in a row that he was meeting Narcissa here, and he supposed that it must be obvious that he was having an assignation, even if no one knew Narcissa's identity, as she was careful to come in disguise. They might have to find a new meeting place--in fact, it would probably be wiser to break the whole thing off.

But then Narcissa walked into the room, and his bad mood suddenly vanished as the wolf's heart leapt with joy. That was bad; the mere sight of this arrogant, spoiled pureblood woman should not make him so happy. Never before had the human half of him been so divided from the wolf. But then Narcissa stepped forward and kissed him, and the wolf took over. He returned the kiss, his tongue sliding between her parted lips, his hands caressing her breasts and tugging at the fastenings of her robes.

{This is only sex, nothing more!} Lukas told himself almost desperately, before the desire of the wolf overwhelmed him and temporarily obliterated all trace of rational thought.
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Madam Pomfrey deemed Theodore well enough to move back into the dorm and resume classes, although she said that he should take it easy for at least another week--which meant no Physical Defense classes and no Quidditch practice. He was pleased about the former, and expressed disappointment about the latter, but Snape thought that he actually looked a little relieved. Theodore still seemed shaken--not so much by nearly getting killed by the Bludger, but by the false Dark Mark, which must have brought back unpleasant memories of the Death Eaters and his parents. He didn't actually say so, but Snape could see the shadows lurking in the boy's eyes, and he silently cursed the perpetrator of the prank for having tainted the simple pleasure and joy that Theodore took in playing Quidditch.

But he said nothing, not wanting to upset his son further. And at least Theodore seemed happy to be returning back to the dorm, where he was enthusiastically greeted by his friends and foster brother.

Having seen Theodore safely to the dorm after dinner, Snape returned to his quarters with Lupin, lit the fireplace with a flick of his wand, then sank down onto the couch with a small sigh of relief. It had been an exhausting ordeal, and this was the first night since the Quidditch match that he and Lupin would be spending in the comfort of their own rooms. Dumbledore had laid powerful protections upon the hospital wing, but Snape was paranoid as only a former Death Eater and spy could be, and he hadn't wanted to leave Theodore there alone at night, so he and Lupin had been sleeping in the hospital wing. Originally they were going to take turns spending the night there, but Snape found that his quarters just seemed too empty and lonely without Lupin there, and Lupin felt the same way, so they both ended up sleeping in the hospital wing until Theodore recovered.

"It's nice to have things returning to normal," Lupin sighed, and he flopped down on the couch and stretched out, laying his head in Snape's lap. Snape reached down to stroke Lupin's long, silky hair, and Lupin made a small noise of contentment, then turned his head slightly and pressed his lips against Snape's thigh. Snape gasped as the heat of that kiss seemed to burn through the cloth of his trousers and travel in a straight line to his groin. Lupin looked up and said with an impish grin, "And as much as I love Theo, it's also nice to have some privacy," then continued to kiss his way up and down Snape's thigh. A low, soft moan escaped from Snape's lips, and Lupin slid off the couch and knelt in front of his lover, gently pushing apart Snape's legs and playfully brushing his lips across the already visible bulge that was straining against the black cloth of the Potions Master's trousers. Snape moaned again, more loudly this time, and Lupin smiled in satisfaction and deftly unfastened Snape's trousers.

"Ah..." Snape gasped as Lupin's nimble fingers freed his erection from the restraining cloth, gently stroking and teasing. Then the werewolf's lips and tongue replaced his fingers, and if Snape had not been leaning against the couch, he probably would have collapsed in ecstasy as he felt himself slowly being drawn into Lupin's mouth, a delicious sensation of being enveloped in warmth and wetness.

Lupin paused and pulled back so that he could see his lover's face, head tilted back and eyes closed, dark lashes resting against pale skin. Severus hardly ever closed his eyes when they made love, and it pleased Lupin to see him lost in the pleasure of the moment, giving up his self-control for once. Severus had been exhausted with worry and anger ever since the Quidditch match on Saturday, and Lupin wanted to give him comfort, let him relax and forget his worries, even if for only a little while--and this seemed like the simplest way to do it. The Potions Master didn't let his guard down often, except in bed. Well, technically they weren't exactly in bed, but close enough, Lupin figured.

However, while Lupin was sitting back admiring his handiwork, Snape's eyes opened and focused on him, giving him a look that was halfway between a plea and a glare. "Why did you stop?" he demanded, and his cranky tone made Lupin laugh affectionately.

"I was just trying to decide what to do next, my love," Lupin purred in a sultry voice that made Snape raise his eyebrows.

"Is it getting close to the full moon again?" Snape asked, trying to figure out how many days had passed since the last full moon, but he was finding it a little difficult to concentrate in his current condition.

"You will have to begin brewing the Wolfsbane Potion again in a few days, yes," Lupin said, his blue eyes glowing with both love and lust. "But I think the fact that we haven't had sex since before the Quidditch match might have something to do with it, too."

"Oh, right," Snape said. They'd been sleeping in the hospital wing, which obviously meant no sex at night, and they'd been too busy and stressed to even have a quickie between classes during the day.

"In fact," Lupin said, rising to his feet and slowly undressing as Snape watched as if spellbound, "I think it's the longest dry spell we've had since I started teaching at Hogwarts again." He climbed onto Snape's lap and slowly began to lower himself down. "So I would say that we need to make up for lost time."

"Lupin, wait," Snape protested, not very coherently. "I'm not...you're not...oh!"

Lupin didn't care about the lack of preparation or the fact that Severus was still--mostly--dressed. This had started out as a means to comfort and distract Severus, but now Lupin found that his teasing words were true, and that the wolf was eager and hungry after that "dry spell". He continued to push downwards, wincing at the slight pain of being stretched open and filled, while growling in pleasure at the same time. As he had told Severus more than once, werewolves were resilient, and besides, the wolf found a small amount of pain titillating. As if reading Lupin's mind, Severus gave up his feeble protests and leaned forward, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin of Lupin's throat, sending another surge of pleasure-pain through his body. Lupin whined, nipping at his lover's throat in turn, but Severus's high-collared robes got in his way. It was a little frustrating, but at the same time, the feeling of his bare skin sliding against the plush wool of Severus's robes was strangely sensuous and exciting. He leaned forward, deliberately pressing his chest against Severus's, and he laid his head on Severus's shoulder for a moment, rubbing his cheek against the soft wool there. Then the wolf took over, and Lupin growled and whined, his voice filled with growing urgency. He resumed moving up and down, but faster now, grinding down hard into Severus's lap, pain giving way to pleasure, until that pleasure in turn grew almost painful in its intensity. Severus tried to thrust upwards every now and then, but his position on the couch made it difficult, so mostly he leaned back and let Lupin ride him, groaning almost helplessly. That sound further enflamed Lupin's inner wolf, and he threw back his head and howled his pleasure out loud. Severus suddenly bit down hard on Lupin's exposed throat, and the world around him seemed to explode in a blinding flash of ecstasy.

It was no wonder that the French called an orgasm "the little death," Lupin thought to himself when consciousness returned. He slumped against Severus's chest, panting softly, and the Potions Master reached up to stroke Lupin's hair, his own labored breathing echoing Lupin's.

"You couldn't even wait for me to get my clothes off?" Snape asked, chuckling.

"The wolf was impatient," said Lupin, nibbling gently on Snape's earlobe. "However," he added, undoing the fastenings on Snape's robes, "I believe that we can remedy that situation now."

"Ah...Lupin?" Snape said, looking startled.

Lupin gave him a cheerfully lascivious grin in response. "Why, Sev, you didn't think that we were done here, did you?" he asked. "We have a great deal of lost time to make up for...but don't worry, I'll give you sufficient time to recover." His grin grew wider. "Although I hope you don't take too long."

Snape laughed and wrapped his arms around Lupin. "I suppose there's no point in arguing with a hormonal werewolf."

"None at all," Lupin agreed, and indeed, he kept the Potions Master very busy all that night, and for at least a few hours, Death Eaters, Aurors, and dangerous pranks were the furthest thing from their minds.

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