Archive of Our Own

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January 29th 1982

There’s an insistent knocking on the door. Severus stares at the frayed edge of the carpet, one cheek itching against the rough fabric, another shoulder numb against the hard surface of the floor. He’s been drinking again. The knocking won’t stop. He thinks he hears his name, muffled. A thunder. Last time he was coherent, it was night. Now faint grey light seeps in from the windows.

“Severus, please!”.

He jerks up. His head is pounding with a headache. He searches for his wand, vision blooming with dark spots as he rises to his knees, but the familiar shape eludes him. Panic settles in before any logical thought. He stops and breathes for a second. The knocking continues.

He keeps a grasp on each piece of furniture and wall he can find in his way as he moves towards the entrance hallway, staggering like a newborn creature still learning how to walk. “Leave”, he calls out hoarsely and leans his heavy head against the door.

“It’s urgent. Please, just let me in for a minute”.

He can’t keep himself up and slides back down on the floor with a groan of frustration. “Five minutes”, he calls. “Give me five minutes”, not entirely sure his voice carries to the person asking for him, though the knocking ceases. He clenches his eyes shut and breathes.

Knocks pull him out of unconsciousness again, and this time he can get up. He finds his wand on the coffee table and gulps down a restorative potion before pulling his hair from his face and standing in front of the door again. He opens and meets Remus Lupin’s pale face and a whimpering bundle held tight in his arms. “Severus”, he greets, tense. Behind him, a storm roars.

He stares at the baby wrapped in scarves. “Is this Harry?”.

“We need to talk”.

His mind short-circuits and he can only stand there, vision going hazy.

“Severus”. Talking to him through the rain, the water, but from far away, far, far away. Remus gently pushes him to the side and joins him at the threshold of his house, looking at him expectantly. “Can I come in?”.

He nods absently and heads towards the kitchen, unsure of the state of the living room to receive guests. Remus closes the door behind him with a shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”, he asks as Severus collapses onto a chair and leans his head against his hands. He takes a seat opposite of him, sliding a backpack on the floor, and transfigures another chair into a low baby crib, where he places the baby gently, smoothing his brow. He sets it rocking with a move of his wand and Harry soon quiets down.

“What did you bring the child here for?”, Severus demands. “What do you want?”.

His amber eyes trail down Severus’ bare wrists. He shifts them under the table, out of view, embarrassed by his appearance suddenly. He’s wearing one of his mother’s old blouses, the floral pattern faded and worn and stained beyond recognition. “Tea, perhaps?”, he offers. And before his unwilling host can get up, he springs to his feet. “I’ll make it. Just tell me where you keep everything”.

“It’s just the tin by the stove”. The kettle is still on there, undisturbed since its last use, with water gone long cold inside. Remus cleans cups from the sink. The familiar sounds help his body relax as his brain catches up to it slowly.

“Do you take it with milk?”.

“There isn’t any”.

“Sugar?”.

He shrugs. “There might be some in the top cupboard. I don’t want any”.

Remus opens the sugar jar. “Ah”, he exclaims carefully. “You might have a bug problem, Severus”, and puts the lid back on. He places the cup in front of him. Severus doesn’t thank him, nor drinks. “Well”. He’s nervously looking down at his own cup. “I need help”.

“And you think I can help you?”.

He sips on his tea slowly, then knits his fingers together on his lap. “I believe you’re aware that Sirius”, he speaks the name with difficulty, voice going hard, “has been imprisoned. I… for the last couple of years, I have been residing with him, at his family home. With him gone, I have found myself, well, homeless. And Harry… There is no safe place for him. I resided with the Weasleys, and they were attacked. There is no place with wards I can trust to protect him. Dumbledore has suggested giving him over to Lily’s sister”, Severus' heart starts hammering, “because the blood magic can set strong protective wards, as you know, but they were never on very good terms, from what Lily has told us, so I can’t bring myself to do that. And so, Dumbledore said, if there’s one person who can keep Deatheaters away, it would be a Deatheater himself. He said you can be trusted, that you--”. He meets Severus’ eyes. “I’m asking you to keep him, here. I know you and Lily had a bad fall out, but Dumbledore said--”.

“No”.

“Can I finish?”.

“You are insane, Lupin”.

“Severus, can we discuss it at least?”. There’s an imploring tone in his voice.

“No. Dumbledore had no right to tell you anything about me, and you have no right to throw it in my face to get what you want! Take the child and go!”. He gets up from his seat, shaking. “Go!”.

“I know you’d keep him safe”, he insists. “I trust you to not hurt him, like you’d never–”.

“Shut your mouth and leave!”. Harry starts crying in the crib. “You have no idea what you’re talking about! You trust me? Like you trusted your precious friend to not go berserk and betray your own, then kill thirteen people? Too easily, you trust, Lupin. You are an ignorant fool. Leave, and I pray to gods their child will survive another week in your hands!”.

His face goes white with fury. “Sirius was framed! He would never–”.

“But he did! Even now, to keep defending him, is absurd! How do you explain what happened?”.

“I don't know! I don't know what he did, I don't, but he got himself locked up for the rest of his fucking life and I've nobody, Severus, nowhere to go and their child in my arms, so tell me what I should do!”

He falls heavily back into his chair, resigned. “Give him up to Dumbledore. Let him handle it”.
“I will not give up my best friends’ son”, he speaks with passion. “I will not let them take him away and use him like they used us, I will not”. He picks up the wailing baby and rocks him gently in his arms. There’s pain etched in the lines of his scarred face, deep shadows in the hollows of his skull.

Severus rubs at his wrists. A scab tears open and stains his fingers with fresh blood. He takes a breath. “I am in no state to care for a child, Lupin. You are right that I keep strong wards on my house. I could keep him concealed from the Dark Lord’s servants, but not safe”.

“I would help you, if you allow it. I’m not asking you to raise him, Snape, I–”. He lowers his voice, presses his lips against the child’s brow for a few silent moments. “If you have a spare room. I would not disturb you at all. I would take care of everything he needs, everything, I would not stray outside, not invade your private space at all. I just need a room that is safe, just until things settle down and I can think of something. Please, Severus”.

His heart is beating very fast. “When is the next full moon?”.

Remus closes his eyes. “In ten days. I have arrangements for the full moons. I wouldn’t leave him with you”.

“And those arrangements cannot extend to the rest of the month?”.

“No, they cannot”.

“Where have you been living?”.

“I’ve been… in between Order safehouses. A few people have been hosting us a couple of days at a time, too”. He turns his attention to the baby, who’s steadily complaining. From his backpack at the foot of the chair he retrieves a bruised banana. “Sorry, it’s past time for his snack and I think he’s hungry”, he says quietly, peeling it and cutting off small chunks with his fingers to feed the boy, who grabs at Remus’ wrist and picks the pieces from his fingers, in the uncoordinated way babies do, eating heartily.

Severus runs a hand through his hair. “You trust too easily, Lupin. If you care at all for him, you’ll be careful at whose doors you go knocking”.

“I don’t have a choice”.

“You do have choices, yet you choose to play the martyr”.

“There’s nothing left for me”, he says harshly. “I’ve lost everything that matters. If I give him up too, I might as well go hide in the woods and live like an animal until they hunt me down and kill me”. He sighs. “I am sorry to ask this of you, Severus. If I had an alternative, you know well I wouldn’t be here. I’m not asking this for me, I know you want nothing to do with me, but this is Lily’s–”.

“You won’t persuade me by using her name”, he cuts him off coldly.

He nods. “I’m sorry. I’ve let Dumbledore’s words get to my head”.

“He had no right to tell you anything!”, Severus repeats, mortified by the way his throat closes up with emotion and his eyes burn.

“He only did it for Harry’s sake”, he replies softly. “Like I am. Will you at least consider it?”.

The boy has stopped accepting the banana pieces from Remus’ hand. He eats the piece he’s holding and wraps the remaining in a tissue paper before returning it to his backpack. The boy is returned to the crib with no protest, where he sits upright, curiously looking at Severus, who purposefully keeps his gaze away from him.

He takes a long time thinking in silence while Remus sips his tea. Finally, he grabs the edge of the table and pulls himself up. “Wait here for a moment”, he tells the man and leaves the kitchen. He finds the key to his parents’ old bedroom in the drawer of the hallway console table and opens it for the first time in months. The smell is heavy, stale and humid. In a last effort of keeping his composure, he throws occlumency shields up and walks inside, performing quick cleaning spells and throwing the window open, uncaring of the rain outside. It’s bare of any of their old possessions, except the linens in the wardrobe and a few of their clothes Severus had been wearing throughout the years when money was too tight to buy anything for himself stored inside a chest at the foot of the double bed. He levitates that to his own bedroom and dresses the bed with fresh sheets, then brings down blankets. He makes a stop to the thermostat and turns the heat on.

Remus is exactly where he left him, dangling a chain of keys in the air for Harry to play with, keeping it just out of reach from his short soft hands. He looks up when Severus enters the kitchen, eyes quickly darting to his wrists again, then up. He curses himself for not throwing on a robe.

“You can stay the night if you wish”, he tells him. “You can move the crib to the room on the right. The door is open”. He doesn’t wait to see Remus’ reaction to that, but turns his back to him and starts cleaning the pile of cups and spoons in the kitchen sink.

“Thank you, Severus”.

“Leave the window open for a bit to clear out the air. The bathroom is at the end of the corridor”.

“I really am sorry for intruding. I can see you are in a vulnerable state yourself”.

He presses his lips together in annoyance. “Go leave your things inside”.

When Remus has left the room, he opens the kitchen window, summons a cigarette pack from the living room and stands perched on the wall taking deep long drags. He stubs the burning end on the inside of his wrist and tension seeps from his body sharply for those few seconds it lasts. He breathes out, a little calmer than before. He’s pressing a second butt against his skin when he becomes aware of Lupin standing in the doorway, eyes fixed at Severus’ hands. He doesn’t cut the action short for him. Shame doesn’t suit Severus Snape. Not after everything. “What?”.

“Could I grab two glasses of water?”.

He makes room for him and nods towards the top cupboard. Remus takes out the glasses and fills them from the sink. “Are you okay?”, he asks without looking at him.

“I’m not asking you unnecessary questions, am I?”.

He stands with a glass in each hand. “This just doesn’t seem like a sustainable coping mechanism”.

“I am well sustained, thank you, Lupin”.

He shakes his head. “Can I move the sharp things away from the tub? I’d like to give Harry a bath before bed”.

He feels his face go warm with humiliation. “I’ll clean up in a moment”.

“Okay. Thank you”.

He waits for the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut before rushing to the bathroom and assessing the scene. He picks up the razors from the bathtub tile and the edge of the sink and cleans the spots of dried blood off the porcelain, then scrubs the toilet bowl clean from the old streaks of vomit running down to the floor. Pulls out the hair from the drain and performs a cleaning charm on all surfaces. At least it’s no longer a biohazard. He empties the trashcan of the blood-streaked tissues and leaves a new bar of soap by the sink. He doesn’t bother to remove the spell blurring the mirror; he can’t stand to look at himself. Lupin can make of that what he will.

He tidies the living room next, disposing empty bottles, removing stains, changing covers on the sofa and armchair, moving scattered clothes to his room, performs a few spells for dusting and sweeping and freshening the air. It’s not perfectly clean or orderly, but it’s habitable, for the first time in months. He lights up the fireplace and moves back to the kitchen, looking through the pantry to see what can be salvaged. He has a couple of cans stored: beans, condensed milk, peaches in syrup, an unopened jar of cherry jam. The last time he went out to shop was maybe two weeks ago, mainly for alcohol, a loaf of fresh bread and a pastry that had drawn his addled brain’s attention. He’d been eating slices from the bread until it went moldy, then kept eating from the parts which weren’t green, then didn’t eat at all. Sometimes he thought of doing groceries, but his body was too heavy to lift itself upright and he’d think to himself he’d rather die of starvation than venture outside. He expected it’d happen eventually. It wasn’t an unsuitable death.

He knocks on Remus’ door. “Enter”, he hears the soft reply. The lanky man is curled on the edge of the bed like a dog, with the crib placed just beside him so he can directly be looking at Harry, who’s napping.

“Do you have something to feed him for dinner?”.

He sits up, looking awkward. “I’ve packed him a sandwich. He’ll be okay for today. Thank you”.

“Does he eat beans?”, he asks.

Remus nods. “He’s very agreeable, thank all that is holy”. He smiles at the sleeping baby. “His daddy’s appetite”, he whispers, maybe just for the little boy to hear in his dreams.

“Do you?”. He looks up at him. “Eat beans?”.

“I’m okay. If you have some for Harry, that’s great. I’ve eaten”. And his stomach dramatically growls a sound of betrayal in the following silence. “Sorry”. He goes red in the ears. “I’m good, really”.

“I’ve left two cans by the stove. Heat them up for both of you when he wakes up. And you can sit in the living room too, don’t just lock yourself in here. I don’t much care. I’ll be in my room”.

He nods. “Thank you, Severus”.

He closes the door and moves to his own room, where he undresses and collapses on the bed, staring at a molding corner with intensity. There’s an open bottle on his bedside table. It takes effort to not reach for it.

He must have dozed off, because it’s dark when he opens his eyes to a soft knock on his door. “Severus?”, Remus' voice calls out to him and his heart starts hammering before his brain supplies him with information. “Have you eaten? Harry doesn’t eat much and there’s a lot leftover. If you’d like to join us?”.

He doesn’t respond. He stays awake, listening to the new sounds in the house, the plates in the kitchen, the footsteps to the living room, Harry’s babbling monologues and Remus’ soft answers, muffled and unintelligible through the locked door. He listens all throughout Harry’s bath, then Remus talking him to sleep, then what he assumes is Remus cleaning himself and getting ready for bed. There’s another knock on his door. “We’ll go to bed now. There’s food in the kitchen. I’ve put a stasis charm on it”.

When the silence is complete, he pulls himself upwards and drinks until his mind fogs. He goes through a few cigarettes, crumpled on the floor by the window, drinks some more and passes out with no thought in his mind.

Running water in the bathroom wakes him up at dawn. He’s pulled under again until he hears a loud childish voice which freezes his body. It takes a few minutes for everything to come back to him and he finds himself vigilantly listening to the sounds of the house again. He gets up and dresses in long sleeves this time and creeps to the bathroom to throw water on his face. He lifts the mirror charm for a moment and disgust pulses in his bloodstream. He pulls his hair tightly in a stiff plaid and tells himself he doesn’t care what his guest thinks of him. He feels an urge to tear at his flesh so strong it clenches his stomach. He moves back to his bedroom, has a morning cigarette, burns himself and appears in the kitchen.

Remus is drinking a cup of coffee. He has transfigured yet another chair into a tall seat for Harry, who is grabbing at banana pieces from a plate in front of him, mostly focused on smashing them rather than eating.

“Good morning”, the tall man says with a smile. “I warmed up some of the condensed milk. I hope that’s okay”.

Severus nods, still standing in the doorway. He wants to curl up on the floor and die.

“And I made some coffee?”, he adds and pours Severus a steaming cup.

“I can’t do this, Lupin”, he whispers hoarsely.

The man approaches him, uncertain, holding the mug in his hands. “Do you want something to eat? The beans are still there, and I have half a sandwich if you’d like”.

He shakes his head and grows dizzy with the movement.

“Severus. Take a seat. You’re shaking”. He moves to touch his arm and Severus jerks back. He slides down on the floor instead, back supported against the wall. His spine hurts where it presses against it. Remus sets the cup on the table and kneels by his side. “Severus”, he repeats, more firmly. “Do you keep any potions?”. Then, when the man doesn’t respond. “Have you been eating at all?”.

“I can’t help you”, he states, willing his voice to stay steady. “I can’t– keep up appearances, I can’t have people in the house. I can give you keys if you want to keep the room while I’m still alive for the wards to work, but I can’t do this”.

Remus doesn’t respond for a while. Then a plate is placed on his knees. He looks up. It’s a cheese and ham sandwich cut in half. “Eat”, he tells him.

Severus bursts into tears, soon gasping with silent sobs. There are no coherent thoughts in his head, no prevailing emotion, just a pressure in his chest growing larger and larger and he can’t keep it down, can’t seem to breathe through it. A cold glass of water is pressed into his hands, fingers warmer than his keeping it in place, a thumb steadily tracing the line of his knuckles. When the burst slowly passes, he feels lightheaded and weakened. Hands coax the glass to his lips and he drinks.

“Has nobody checked up on you since October?”, Remus asks in a gentle tone, pushing the sandwich again to him. He takes a bite and chews for a long time. It tastes like cotton in his mouth. “You’d have stayed locked up in here to die”.

The food puts some sense into him. “I’m going to throw up”, he mutters.

“No, you won’t. Come lie down on the sofa”. He pulls him to his feet and drags him to the living room, where he helps him lie down with pillows underneath his back propping him up. He brings him another glass of water and watches him take a few sips. “Do you have potions for nausea?”, he asks again.

“In my laboratory”, he answers faintly. “In the attic. They’re labelled”.

He returns quickly, holding two vials. Severus drinks them mechanically, without stopping to consider what’s in them. A few blinks later falls into deep sleep.

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When he wakes up, it’s dark again. He looks around disoriented. He’s still on the sofa, but someone has draped a blanket over him. Remus is sitting cross-legged by the lit fireplace, staring into the fire. It’s a few minutes before he looks up and sees Severus looking back at him. “Hello”, he smiles. “Are you feeling better?”.

Severus can’t speak. Humiliation rolls in him, making him nauseous. He wants to die, he thinks, painfully, painfully.

“I put Harry to sleep a while ago. We went out for some groceries in the afternoon. I made chicken soup for dinner. And we got bread rolls from the bakery by the church. Harry really liked those”. Severus gulps dryly. A glass of water hovers by his hands and he takes it, trembling. “We got apples, bananas, potatoes, carrots, celery. The chicken. Rice and pasta, and two jars of tomato sauce. We got milk and a bottle of apple juice and oatmeal and sugar. And canned mushrooms and toast bread. And a bottle of shampoo”. He lists the things slowly, counting them on his fingers, watching Severus carefully. “And some more tea, because yours is stale. And salt, because you didn’t have any. Would you care for some soup?”.

He brings him a warm bowl and nudges him to sit beside him on the sofa. Severus is blankly staring at the fire. He cries again. He can’t seem to control it, or doesn’t think to before it has already started. Remus waits for him to calm down before pushing the spoon in his fingers. “It’s okay to grieve”, he tells him. “But you can’t give up like this. It’s not fair for you”.

He wants to reply something bitter and angry, but the words get lost in his brain.

“Eat”, he tells him and he does. It feels simple to act upon orders. “We will stay until you’re feeling a bit better. Then we’ll do what you tell us. Okay?”.

He nods. “I’m sorry”, he whispers and his voice is distant and foreign.

“Me too”, he says and squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry too”.

The next days are foggy, blurred around the edges, with little indication of time passing. Remus feeds him and heals the open wounds on his arms, stays on the other side of the closed door while he bathes, brings him clean clothes and watches him brush his hair on the toilet seat. “You don’t grow facial hair, do you?”, he asks with a smile. “Lucky man. I’d look insane if I didn’t shave for so long”. It doesn’t sound like an insult, but Severus feels shame blooming inside him. Remus notices and fumbles. “You look nice. Elegant. It doesn’t matter. Some people just don’t”, he tries to say. Severus looks away, humiliated.

He lies listless on the couch while Remus is playing with Harry on the carpet. When Harry moves his attention to the silent man, Remus points at him with a finger. “This is Severus, Harry. Severus Snape”. Harry imitates the sounds, a long series of “ve,ve,ve,ve”. He feels the urge to parrot Harry's little song, but he forgets where to place his teeth in his mouth to produce the right sound. The baby laughs like a chorus of bells when the wolf tickles him and Severus’ ears go ringing and ringing.

One morning he wakes up with a clear head and shame is the only thing that keeps him silent as he ventures into the kitchen and takes a seat on the table. Remus greets him before turning his attention back to the baby. “Toast with butter and jam, or banana and a shortbread cookie?”, he asks Harry thoughtfully, cocking his head to the side.

“Cookie”, Harry replies quite politely in perfect English, leaving the man speechless.
He bursts into laughter and swoops Harry up in a hug, kissing him fiercely on the face until the baby shrieks with giggles of joy. “Of course your first word would be cookie, you confection of a child!”.

Severus finds himself smiling, a warmth creeping into his chest. “I’ll cut up a banana for him”, he offers and Remus nods with tears in his eyes.

“Thank you, Severus”, he says after the baby is served. Severus turns back to make coffee for them. Remus butters up toast, a piece for each, and adds the cookie on Harry’s plate. “Would you like a cookie, too, Severus?”. He finds himself nodding, genuinely wanting a cookie. It tastes like it should, finally. He dips it in his coffee and eats with an appetite. “You look better”, Remus says between bites. He, on the contrary, Severus notices, doesn’t look well at all. The approaching moon has had an effect on him already.

He clears his throat and places his hands on his lap. “I would like to apologize for the past days’ performance”.

“Shut up and eat your toast”.

“Veve”, Harry calls from his seat, pointing at Severus.

“That’s Severus, Harry, yes”, Remus confirms.

“You can reside here for as long as you need. I won’t cause you any further troubles of similar nature”.

“You better not”. He sips on his coffee. “You can take this offer back if you feel uncomfortable in the future. This is not a transaction. I would not have let you wither away, even if it wasn’t for Harry, had I known you were struggling with this”.

The numbness creeps back inside him. “I don’t want the likes of you taking pity on me, Lupin”, he says coldly.

“No, I don’t imagine that you do”. They finish their breakfast in silence, with only Harry piping in to add unintelligible observations. “We will be leaving tomorrow, for the full moon. If your offer still stands, we will return on Tuesday?”.

“That is fine with me”, he says. Then another thought enters his mind. “Lupin, have you been taking any potions for your condition?”, he asks.

Remus snorts, amused. “Wolfsbane, you mean? You might have noticed by now that I’m not exactly made of money”.

“It has not been supplied to you by the Order?”.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t think to ask. It sounded to me like a very difficult potion to come by and searching for a supplier with everything happening wouldn’t have been easy”.

Severus nods. “I have the recipe”, he says. “I’ve made it before, upon the Dark Lord’s request. If I find the ingredients, and you would like to try it, I could brew it for you”.

“Severus!”, he exclaims, shocked, eyes glinting. “I– I couldn’t repay you for this. I don’t know what to say”.

“I can ask Dumbledore to cover the ingredients expenses”.

He looks at Severus for a few moments, searching for words. “If you’re willing to do this, I would lie if I said I don’t want it. It would… change things, for me”.

“It’d alleviate some stress, I imagine”.

“Oh, you have no idea”. A smile unfolds in his face. “Severus, thank you. Really. If I can offer anything in payment for it–”.

“If Dumbledore agrees to help pay for the ingredients, I don’t need anything else. Brewing helps me take my mind off things”, he admits quietly. “This would be ready for next month’s moon, of course”.

“Of course”. Remus seems distracted. “Should I contact Dumbledore, or you’ll do it?”.
“I’ll owl him today”.

“Merlin. Thank you”, he repeats. Harry is watching the interaction, a smile on his face mirroring Remus’ good mood. The man looks at him. “You don’t even know what you’re smiling about, little rascal”, he says and picks up a piece of banana to feed him. “No brain behind your pretty little eyes, no brain”.

Severus gathers the empty cups and plates. “He’s very aware of his environment. Very perceptive”.

“Mhm”, Remus agrees. “Didn’t take that from daddy, for sure”, he comments affectionately.

“No, I wouldn’t imagine he did”, Severus sighs and starts washing up.

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He spends the morning assessing his potion ingredients, throwing away what’s spoiled and labelling the rest. He had worked for a long time in a disorganized, frantic rhythm that violated all codes of potioneering, recognizing ingredients by smell, making slight colour changes to failed attempts with a drop of neutral solutions. The Wolfsbane report had said that the werewolf had followed the Dark Lord’s orders and attacked calculated targets with none of the carelessness of a savage beast. It was impossible to deliver him the quantities of the potion he was asking for, yet the ingredients for it still arrived at his door with an expectation and failure was met with rounds of Cruciatus that made his arms twitch involuntarily for days after, jeopardizing his work. Most of it remained boxed up by his brewing table.

He sends a telegraphic letter to Dumbledore: Order member’s medical condition untreated; asking for cover of ingredient expenses. Dragon blood supplier? S.S. He does not feel inclined to exchange pleasantries with the man.

Remus is in the living room with a grumpy Harry when he comes down from the attic. Gone were the morning’s smiles. “We’ve been stepping around and it tired him out, but he can’t sleep before eating”, Remus explains.

“Tough life”, Severus agrees, which elicits an exhaled laugh from the man.

“I really hope we won’t have any meltdowns today”, he tells this to Harry, who whines miserably and throws a toy lion across the room. “No throwing”, he reprimands firmly. Harry points to the toy and starts crying. “Well, go pick it up yourself if you want it so bad”. The wailing intensifies. Severus frowns, unaccustomed to such loud sounds in the house. “Jesus Christ”, Remus mutters, visibly exhausted. Still, he stretches his upper body to grab the toy and places it in the baby’s lap, who only stares at it. Another wave of sobs starts.

Severus moves into the living room and sits at the edge of the sofa. “I can brew him a sleeping draught?”.

“I’m not going to drug the child”, Remus snaps and gets up to look through his backpack at the leg of the sofa for another toy to draw the boy’s attention. “And besides, I really don’t want to change his sleeping schedule today. Last thing I need is him having a tantrum tomorrow while I’m away”. Harry rubs at his eyes and looks up at Severus, hiccuping before slowly quieting down. He crawls on hands and knees to him, then uses the man’s legs as support to get up to his feet, meeting his gaze expectantly.

“That’s Severus, right, Harry?”, Remus says.

“Veve”, Harry repeats, hoarse from crying.

“Close enough. You can hold him, if you’d like”, he adds as he watches Severus awkwardly hovering his hands over the baby.

He pulls him up from under the armpits and sets him on his lap. The baby inspects him like he’s a particularly fascinating type of bug, then raises his arms above his head, stretching. Severus still holds onto his waist, afraid he’ll drop him.

“Please don’t let him sleep”, Remus asks, plopping on the armchair slack as a ragdoll.
He starts bouncing a knee, rocking the baby with it, which serves as some extraordinary entertainment. Harry follows the rocking with a pitiful interpretative dance, babbling syllables like “la” and “ta” and “ma” in a musical opus of his own creation. Severus does own a record player, though he hasn’t used it in years. Now, with a wand he keeps Harry from grabbing, he levitates one of his disks from the bookshelf and sets the old machine working, sliding the tonearm to one of the spirited songs to keep up with the baby’s rhythm. He expresses his delight by closely following the song’s tempo and accompanying the singing with meaningless lyrics at a respectable pitch nonetheless.

Remus smiles from his seat. “That’s Simon and Garfunkel?”, he asks.

Severus blushes, nodding. “Baby Driver”.

“Lily liked them”. Severus knows that, but doesn’t say it out loud. He slides the vinyl back to Cecilia and they listen together until it’s time for Harry’s lunch. He leaves the music playing in the living room and when it’s time for the baby’s nap, he falls asleep in minutes, content.

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On Sunday, they leave after Harry has lunch. “For safety reasons, I can't tell you who will be keeping him. Myself will be at Hogsmead”.

Severus frowns. “You still transform there?”.

“With Sirius, we had different arrangements, usually. But now…”. He shrugs. “Dumbledore has been sending Poppy to check up on me when it ends. I'm not complaining”.

“You should be complaining”, Snape mutters, but drops the subject. “If you find yourself at Hogsmead with a few hours to spare, could you gather perhaps some aconite? It grows in the forest”. He places a pair of leather gloves he summons from his lab into his hands. “Carefully, of course. These are fortified against accidents”.

“Of course. Thank you, Severus, for agreeing to this. We'll see you on Tuesday”. He holds the baby's little wrist in his fingers. “Say bye to Severus, Harry”, he tells him and waves his other arm emphatically. Harry copies the motion, giggling.

“Goodbye”, Severus responds with a stiff nod of his head.

When they're gone, he finds himself unable to do anything for a long time. He watches the clock, calculating how much time Lupin has left for his transformation, wondering about Wolfsbane again. Some of the werewolves recruited by the Dark Lord had never experienced a single transformation without Wolfsbane aid. It was in fact part of their terms; some would allow themselves to be bitten if promised that their condition would always be controlled. But even Grayback’s victims were carefully medicated. The Dark Lord consulted Severus on the amount of Wolfsbane possible to be produced each month before instructing them to bring him more. He wonders what they're doing now, without it, if they've stayed in a pack away from the world or are recklessly hunting down people and getting killed by the ministry. He wonders why Dumbledore never bothered to supply this little thing to his werewolf when he was just a child, slicing himself to ribbons every month. Its therapeutic use in St Mungo had been established ever since their last year in school and Severus would assume that for such a complex potion to be legalized, it must have been around for some time in trial. Dumbledore knew about it and left Lupin to suffer, posing as an active danger to other students. Severus had accepted Lupin's apology for that dreadful night in fifth year, because he recognised that it was really not his fault. At the time, he blamed Black. Now, another hand seemed to have pushed them into that predicament.

It's dark outside. He imagines Lupin as he had seen him that night and peels off the layer of adrenaline and fear from the memory; just this tall gray wolf, all long limbs and dull, matted fur, with its teeth exposed in a universal animal expression of terror, familiar amber eyes watching alarmed.

He heats up the mushroom soup they made for dinner last night and tries to eat, but it's different when he's alone and he's kneeling by the toilet ten minutes later, waiting for everything to come back up. His heart is beating fast. He gives up and curls up in the bathtub, digging lines on the top of his arm, but even these make the thought of the werewolf return to his head and his own scars embarrass him when he thinks of the white lines across Lupin's face and hands. How deep are his?, he wonders, how many? He crawls up to the attic and looks through his potions cabinet. There's a corner there with potions he kept for himself, all warm bright hues of yellow and golden and pink, variations of the euphoria elixir. He hasn't labeled them and never remembers what difference they have from each other, though small, so he picks one at random and downs the content. He groans as the effects take place. It feels him with a burst of nervous energy and he finds himself pacing around the house, mind carefully blank and buzzing with urge.

He wakes up in his bed very early on Monday. His sleeves are stuck to open wounds. He looks around the house, removing any sign from yesterday's outburst, and makes coffee. He opens the kitchen window to a little dark owl, who enters gratefully and sits on the table, shivering. Severus performs a warming charm and it hoots, content. There's a small packet attached to its leg and a folded paper on top. He reads Dumbledore’s note first: From my personal storage. I have contacted an acquaintance in Scotland and given them your information. I will gladly cover the expenses. I hope our friend feels better. Talk to you soon. A.P.W.B.D.

He opens the packet to find two vials of dragon blood. He writes a short thank you note and sends the owl on its way. Back in the attic, he sorts the ingredients in order and pins the recipe on the table surface. Just the wolfsbane missing, and he can start.

He counts his muggle money and goes out for groceries. He hadn't been spending much at all, never really had in his life except his first year under the Dark Lord’s service, when he would give away all he had for potion ingredients, wanting to try out everything, perfect his recipes, make himself worthwhile. Still, the money wouldn't last forever. He would have to consider getting a job sooner or later.

Back home, he sorts out the kitchen, placing the new things in clean cupboards. He dusts the living room and moves a bulk of potioneering books to the attic, which opens up the space considerably. He baby proofs the space too, removing heavy objects that can break or fall on Harry should he find himself alone in here, and fortifies his bookshelves. Outside, in the yard, he checks the wards, ensuring everything is in place and at full power.

He stares at the clock for some time. He takes a bath, washes his hair, untangles it with a brush and braids it tightly after it's dry. He spends some time in front of the bathroom mirror, raised at the balls of his feet to take a look at his torso and hips. He's not sure what he expected. He hasn't taken the time to really look at his body for a long time, dreading any changes, but it's mostly as he remembers, though his long time not eating has had an effect. He turns to the side and inspects his chest, traces the outlines of ribs above and beneath a nipple. Had he imagined the swelling? Had there been any softness underneath his chin when he laid it on top of his hand? Had his upper arms felt heavier lately? He couldn't see signs of it. He knew he was less muscled, felt less strong than a few years ago, when he was properly following his prescriptions, but he hadn't transformed in the meantime.

Could they tell?

The Dark Lord had seen right through him and had reprimanded him heavily when he'd tried to defend himself. There was the old name he used for him, picked out like an overripe berry out of a bush from Severus’ childhood memories. He remembers Lucius, who wasn't a friend by any means, but had been patient with Severus, had protected him from stupid mistakes in the beginning of everything, looking confused when the Dark Lord first referred to him as such. He started calling him “Snape” and never commented on the way he dressed himself in formal events. Exposed clavicles. Sparkling gems on his ears. It shamed him that people didn't stare more, didn't stop to wonder: “Why's he dressed like that?”. Only broad forearms circled his waist with practiced ease.

Then, there was the incident that made him give up on trying to correct them. He knew few times of greater shame in his life than that night. It was in one of the Malfoy gallas, when the Dark Lord had summoned him in a dangerously playful mood. “Come here”. He liked watching Severus’ reaction when he said his name. “Lestrange has been asking about you. I've told him all about what a talented witch you are. He thought to ask for your hand in marriage. It would be a most powerful union, I should think”. The blood had gone cold in his veins. “You might want to think about it long and hard before refusing. Go have a talk, here he is. Do not offend him. Go tell him I told you so”.

Rebastan was watching him with glinting dark eyes. He was a tall man, much taller than Severus, and broad at the shoulders, with the kind of solid masculine beauty that his family possessed. Severus gulped and joined him. A possessive arm closed around his waist immediately.

“I'm not interested”, he said tersely.

“Good evening to you too”. He used the name and it burned like an insult. “I expected a different reaction. You're not exactly a pretty face, are you? You're lucky I do not much care for looks”.

“The answer is no. Do not talk to me”.

He sighed dramatically, his arm staying in place. “Our Lord told me all about you. It's a shame, really, for a little girl like you to hate herself so much as to dress up as a man. But I can help you. I can show you what you're worth”. He’d been speaking close to his ear, face moving lower to his exposed neck. “I will take such good care of you”. And the other hand rested on top of his chest, fingers searching for flesh to give, but finding only the solid shape of his ribcage.

“Take your hands off me and I might consider not cursing you into oblivion”, Severus said in a cold voice.

He pressed him against the wall and drove a thigh between his legs. “I thought you'd play hard to get. That's alright. Keep hissing". Severus pulled out his wand. “Ah-ah”, he grabbed at his wrist. “Our Lord said I should try my best to persuade you and that he'd encourage you to consider very carefully, did he not? So put that wand back before I shove it up your cunt”.

In the morning, a house elf had found him still lying motionless on top of the sheets in one of the manor’s guest rooms. When he didn't budge at all the creature's pleas, the elf retreated, musing “I'll call master, alright, I will”.

Lucius didn’t bother to knock. The door clicked shut behind him. “Severus?”, he asked quietly and the name made him wince with shame. He sat at the edge of the bed, eyes clinically grazing Severus’ naked body. “I talked to Lestrange. He'll leave you alone”. A pile of clean clothes appeared with a pop next to him. “Get dressed and come up for breakfast”.
“He'll make me marry him”, Severus whispered hoarsely.

“Dont be stupid. He won't make you marry anyone. He knows you're infertile”. He got up, fixing wrinkles from the waist of his robe, and moved to the door, stopping only for a moment to look back at Severus' tear stricken face with a heavy sigh, as if this was all a great inconvenience to his person. “Cannot you stop antagonizing him so much on this matter?”.

When Severus didn't respond, he left. The episode was never discussed again.

Now, Severus watches his reflection blink back at him. He covers himself up and pours two perfectly civil fingers of gin in his cup of earl gray. He spends the evening reading one of Belby's research papers on developmental effects of lycanthropy.

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When they return on Tuesday, Harry has a new toy he shyly presents to Severus: a wooden train set, with the rail pieces clicking together like a puzzle and four wagons in red, orange, yellow and blue. Remus sets it up on the kitchen table for him to see. “Bathilda gave it to him. She said it was all he played with”.

Severus nods. He sets his wand on the first wagon and sends it moving on the rails. Harry squeals with joy.

“Good call”, Remus smiles. He looks properly exhausted. “I got the wolfsbane, by the way”, and he pulls out of his backpack a carefully wrapped bundle.

“Good. I'll start brewing today”.

“You're a saint”.

“Do you need to lie down? I can watch over the child for a bit”.

He waves a hand. “I'm okay, I slept like a dead man yesterday. Might just go to bed early tonight. We have brought a few things in our way for your pantry, so I can make a quick lunch if you haven't eaten yet?”.

He shrugs, not mentioning he hadn't eaten much since they left. “I also did some groceries. Feel free to look around”.

“Oh, thank you, Severus”. He takes out bread, butter, ham and cheese, three little boxes of chocolate frogs, a jar of pickles and another of cherry jam. He goes a little red in the ears as Severus inspects the chocolate frogs. “I'm not sure if Harry ever had any, so I got one for each. Wanna try?”, he asks and picks up one of them to offer it to the dark haired man. He accepts it, amused.

Harry finds the jumping frog an unmatched entertainment and watches with horror as Remus takes a bite from his. “Emu!”, he protests, a sorry effort at pronouncing the name. “It's food, Harry”. He catches his flying frog mid air and holds it in place for the boy to eat, but he only makes a face of disgust and pushes the man's hand away. Remus sighs and sets it free again, to Harry's delight. “Who did you get?”, he asks Severus.

“Minister Bagnold”.

“That's going to be rare someday”, he grins. “I got good old Helga. And Harry's got…”, he makes a dramatic pause, looking inside Harry's box. “Merlin! Not your luckiest day, buddy. Sure you don't want to eat that?”. He devours the remaining body of his frog in a big bite. Harry has turned his attention back to his train set.

“Unimpressed”, Severus notes, nibbling on his own treat. The sugar clears up his head.

“His loss”, he shrugs, catches Harry's frog and stuffs it in his mouth. The murder goes unnoticed.

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They soon fall into an easy routine. Severus schedules his days around brewing, which takes up a considerable number of hours. With the new vague structure in his life, he finds himself waking up easier in the morning and he takes on cooking breakfasts and making ungodly amounts of tea throughout the day for himself and Lupin both. He looks over Harry sometimes when Remus is out for quick errands or cooking dinner. He learns how to change diapers, too. The baby has warmed up to him quickly and feels confident in making his demands to any of the two men, depending on who’s in vicinity at the time. He quiets down easier in his arms during tantrums, though Severus doesn’t speak to him in Lupin’s low, lulling tones, nor hums melodies, nor kisses his face. Remus soon stops apologizing on the baby’s behalf and watches quite relieved the burden being lifted from him for a while. They still give Severus space in the evenings and they don’t bother him if he hasn’t got up at his usual time after hard nights. Just a soft knock on his door and “Severus, there’s breakfast in the kitchen”. He appreciates the discretion, though he’s shamed just the same at his breakdowns being witnessed.

He gets another letter from Dumbledore, this one more fleshed out than the last.

Dear S.,

I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize for the lack of communication; hard times have come upon us and I have been forced to focus my attention on different matters. I was glad to know from your previous note that you are brewing again. I have had a request from the Ministry to procure a few doses of Veritaserum. Could I commission you to brew it? They are offering a considerable payment and the ingredients will be supplied to you. I hear that St Mungo’s hospital is also looking for suppliers. Do let me know if you would be interested in getting in touch with them.

Warm wishes to you. I have talked with our common friend. We are all very grateful for your assistance.

Kind regards,

A.P.W.B.D.

It makes him unreasonably angry to read the lines, so he leaves the letter on the side for the day and only gets back hours later, once he’s alone in the living room, with Remus and the baby asleep. He does need the money. It would be stupid to refuse such an offer. So he swallows his pride and writes a polite reply.

Dear Professor,

It is an honour that you should consider me as an applicant…

He asks for more information on the hospital, too. Money’s tight and diapers ridiculously expensive. Remus has mentioned that Dumbledore had been sending him a monthly allowance for the baby’s expenses, but Severus doesn’t think the man knew how much it cost to raise a child in the muggle world, even secluded as they were inside the house. And Harry was growing rapidly.

Selfishly, he’d be grateful for more work to keep him busy too. Feeling tired enough at the end of the day to fall asleep was a privilege he was denied for a long time.

At the end of the month, the Wolfsbane is ready. Remus showers him with expressions of gratitude every day, even tearing up a little the first time he takes it. He spends more time out these final days, arranging where he’d leave Harry for the full moon. Severus, on a night excursion to the kitchen to grab a glass of gin, finds him spilling ink all over his parchment as he writes another letter on the kitchen table.

“You can leave Harry here, you know. I’ll take care of him”.

Remus looks up, eyes glinting. “Don’t tempt me, Severus. I promised I wouldn’t burden you during my transformations".

“It’s not a burden. I’ll have sent the latest order to the hospital by then, so I won’t have much brewing to do. I’ll have all the time in the world for him”.

He frowns. “I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality”.

Severus waves a hand. “You know I wouldn’t offer this if it bothered me. Frankly, I was expecting you’d spend the full moon here, too, before you started making arrangements”.

Remus starts, bewildered. “What do you mean, here?”.

He shrugs. “I don’t know, in your room? Or in the yard? Though I doubt you’ll have much energy to go running about”.

“Have you lost your mind?”. The man looks horrified.

Severus frowns at his reaction. “Lupin, I have to ask, are you aware of the potion’s effects?”.

He blushes a brilliant red. “Well, yes, but! I’m still a wolf!”.

“This is a perfect recipe. There is nothing to fear. You’ll be just like yourself right now, if only less communicative”.

“I trust you, Severus, of course, but the idea makes me uncomfortable”.

Severus breathes in. “We can, okay. We can move the crib to my room, remove some of the bulky furniture and fortify the door and the window of your room and you can stay there. So even if something does go wrong, you'll still be contained. Would that make you feel better?”.

He looks at him for a few moments, blinking. “I can't accept this, Severus. I won't ransack your house”.

“I'm offering to do this, Lupin, because I know the potion will work. I've made it a hundred times. You needn't worry”.

“But how does it work? Do I really remain conscient?”.

“I've played magical chess with a transformed werewolf while waiting for a call to action. You'll be perfectly civil”.

Remus is looking down at his hands. “But they still killed, these werewolves under wolfsbane, didn't they? He dosed them so they would obey his orders. And they killed and maimed or bit people, like animals”.

“They did much worse things in their human form”.

“Like what?”, Remus asks quietly.

“Tortured. Raped. Forced their victims to torture and rape under the Imperio. Cruelty was rewarded, as was creativity in cruelty”.

There’s a beat of silence. “Did you, too? Torture and rape?”.

Severus looks away. “I was his main potioneer. My potions have hurt people”.

“Did you enjoy it?”.

He scoffs. “I've been entirely too selfish in my life, Lupin. Mostly, I didn't have to witness the effects of my potions. I only cared to hear that I did a good job, that I had an unprecedented talent. He could make me poison my own mother and I'd stay with him if he said I did well”.

“But you left, for Lily”.

He closes his eyes. “And what great good that did for her”.

He hears Remus' chair graze the floor as he moves it closer to him. “I've been thinking about this, you know. That if I didn't have Sirius, I'd probably have joined him too. I was very angry when I was younger. He was the only man to accept werewolves and treat them right. My friends protected me. So, I can understand”.

He shakes his head. “He treated them like dogs. The werewolves and the rest of us, really. There was all this glory promised before and then we were terrified of him. I should have killed myself”.

“Severus”.

“There would be more dignity in that. He made me do things I'll never forgive myself for”.
He feels his fingers gingerly tracing his knuckles. “I think good people sided with him for the wrong reasons and couldn't find a way out. I'm glad you're still with us”.

Severus pulls his hand away. “You're lucky I'm still with you and you can drink this perfectly executed potion which will have the exact desirable effects, so let's circle back to that. Are we keeping the room idea?”.

“There really isn't anything that could have gone wrong?”.

“Unless you've lied about taking it, I will bet on Harry's head”.

“Severus!”, he exclaims, scandalised. “Fine. But you'll keep me locked inside and for no reason will you give Harry access to the room in any way. Don't even let him near the door, even if I'm fine. I don't trust myself with this. Swear on it”.

“I swear, Lupin. I will check on you, however, for research purposes ”.

“After we establish that it has worked”.

“Of course”.

“And you're entirely certain of it”.

“Yes, Lupin”.

He thinks about it for a few moments longer. “Okay. Thank you, Severus. I owe you my life”.

“I don’t have much need for it at the moment, but you are welcome nonetheless”. He moves to the cabinets and pours himself a drink. Remus watches him quietly.

“Severus”, he calls his attention to him.

“Yes?”.

“Will you please take care? When the full moon comes?”. Severus freezes, humiliated. Remus looks equally embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I know you’re careful with him. I just worry”.

“I won't be drinking while I'm alone with the child”, he speaks stiffly. “I promise. You're right to worry, of course”, he adds and he respects Lupin for it, for loving Harry enough to insult Severus by asking this. And was it really an insult? Would Severus have stopped himself from giving in to the urge if things got stressful the time that Lupin would be incapacitated? He wasn't sure. He was his father’s son after all, as outraged as this statement would make the late man feel.

“I know you keep your troubles private, but do let me know if I can help in any way”.

He wills himself to stay polite. “Goodnight, Lupin”. He takes his glass and leaves.

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Severus is holding Harry in his lap, swaying his little arms to the rhythm of The Door’s Crystal Ship coming from the record player, when they hear the first cry of pain. Harry’s face falls. He holds him closer against his chest, hushing. “It’s nothing, sweet thing. He’ll be okay. It’ll just take a moment and he’ll be fine”. He presses his palms against the boy’s ears to keep out the wolf’s sounds of agony, mumbling quiet nothings over his head. He should have cast a muffliato. Harry still picks up his anxious energy and starts crying. He gives him a piece of seashell chocolate to settle down and sets him in the centre of a pillow fortress on the carpet while he checks up on Remus.

“Everything okay?”, he calls. There’s a dull thumping of a heavy tail against the floor and a low canine whine. “I’m going to pass you a piece of paper. Try to rip off the part that says beetroot and slide it back”. He goes to find the piece of paper and slides it under the door. There’s a beat of silence, then the careful tearing of paper. The right part is returned to him. “Okay. Great. That’s it. No reason to worry, was there? I’ll knock in a bit when Harry’s in bed, okay? Make some noise if you need anything”.

Harry’s watching him carefully when he returns. “Emu?”, he asks, making a respectable effort to pronounce the r but failing.

“Remus is sick, Harry. Sick”. He coughs in his hand to show him. The baby nods, though he’s unsure if he understood. They spend the afternoon drawing with markers and listening to music; The Doors, then an album by T. Rex which Harry really enjoys, calling out “baby!” at all the right times when My Little Baby plays. Severus has turned the volume up for Remus to be able to hear and help pass time. He helps Harry wash the colour out of his hands before dinner and they eat peas and mashed potatoes with chicken, or rather the baby spends some twenty minutes smashing peas in his hands and complaining about the chicken. He does eat the potatoes and unwillingly accepts a few small chicken pieces from Severus’ hand. He lets him drink a cup of apple juice just so he’ll stop whining. They have a disastrous bath time with soap fleeing out to the corridor and he finally begrudgingly falls asleep in the man’s arms after being rocked and waltzed around the whole house to calm down. He sets him in his crib with a sigh. Little devil’s spawn alright.

When he opens the door to Remus’ room, the great wolf is sprawled lazily on the bed, a heavy head resting on his crossed front paws. His ears perk up when he sees Severus. “Chicken?”, he offers and sets a heaping portion on the floor. He huffs and gets down to eat. “You can come out to the living room if you want. I’ll light the fire”. But he shakes his head. “Alright”. He lets him finish his meal in silence. Then, he’s up on the bed again, sighing deeply as if the movement had exhausted him. “Do you want any company?”, he asks. The wolf meets his gaze and arranges his body on the bed in such a way as to leave a very human shaped empty space on one side, inviting him in. “Sure. One moment, I’ll make some tea”. He returns later with tea and a book and curls up next to the watchful wolf. “I can read outloud? It’s not very interesting. Asiatic anti-venoms”. But Remus nudges the cover with his snout, so he sips his tea and reads for a while, until his voice grows hoarse. The wolf has at some point moved his head on Severus’ lap and is lying there, breathing steadily. He rests a hand on the thick fur of his nape and lets his fingers sink in it. “You’re crushing my legs, Lupin”. But neither of them moves.

He starts awake in the middle of the night, tangled in furry limbs and shoots up from the mattress. “Fuck”, Severus exhales. The wolf besides him stretches and yawns with a whine. “I’m going to check on Harry”, he informs him and shuts the door behind him. The baby is sound asleep and he falls into his own cold covers, thoughts carefully circling the gaping circle right in the middle of his chest, like a tongue exploring the empty space left by a lost tooth, feeling a melancholy so deep he could not possibly explain in any form that would make sense. A sickness of missing.

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He waits a few days for Lupin to be completely recovered from the last moon before giving in. “I'll be in my room”, he announces while Remus is making lunch.

The man looks back from the counter. “Will you grab something to eat first?”.

“I'm not hungry”.

“You didn't eat breakfast”. Severus stands still, face pinched. Remus doesn't push him. “Just call if you need anything. And take care of yourself, Severus”.

He's been looking forward to this drinking session for days now, but it's sorely disappointing. A headache comes forth before any buzz and settles inside his head, making his temples throb. He feels sick and ashamed. He drinks more, just for the sake of it, until his stomach protests and he needs to throw up, but it's still early and they're both up and about in the house, Remus’ soft voice, Harry's toys clicking together. He wishes he was dead with such striking intensity. He closes his eyes and breathes through the nausea. He passes out for a couple of hours and wakes up in the dark to finish what he'd started. He does throw up then, a muffliato at the bathroom door and him on his knees, retching over the toilet bowl. It clears his head, so he opens a new bottle. Something that might be regret trails in his mind, but his thoughts are too muddled to process it. He keeps sipping until his arms can't hold the bottle up. His eyes open in the middle of the night and he turns his head to the side to vomit. There's a knock on his door. “Severus? Are you alright?”.

“Go to sleep”, he wills him, a rush of adrenaline in his bloodstream, a headache pounding against his skull. His stomach empties itself all over the wooden planks of the floor. He buzzes with humiliation.

“I'll be in the living room for a while, if you need company”.

He sits with legs spread out before him for a long time, breathing in the sour smell of his sick. Finally, he cleans everything with a spell and staggers to the living room, only to tell Lupin he's fine, he thinks, just so the wolf can stop playing nurse and get back to bed. But he finds himself collapsing on the edge of the sofa, pushing his face against cushions and violently panting against fresh covers. A warm hand rubs circles on his back. “We can try something when you feel like this? You can tell me and I can keep you distracted”.

“Fuck off”, he says, voice pathetic and muffled.

“I've been reading Belby’s papers, the ones you recommended on Wolfsbane”, he continues instead. “They are well-researched and mostly accurate, though definitely biased. I don't agree with everything, but some of it might just be personal experience”. And he reads out familiar passages to him, stopping in between to comment. Eventually it lulls Severus to sleep.

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In the morning, Remus and Harry are still in their room. He knocks to check up on them. Harry is having a lie-in on the big bed and Remus is sorting out the baby’s clothes, picking one up, inspecting it, then moving on to the next one.

“Good morning, Severus”, he calls.

“Good morning. How do you feel about oatmeal?”.

“Harry, oatmeal?”. Harry makes a dramatic “bleh” sound. “Cereal?”. “Cereal”, he agrees, nodding seriously. “There you go”, he turns to Severus smiling. “I’ll have whatever you’re having”.

“I’ll call you in. Congrats on the r's”, he nods towards the baby.

Remus’ jaw falls open. “Oh, Merlin, I didn't notice! Harry, you said you want cereal?”.

But the boy only nods.

“What's my name, Harry? Who's this?”. He's pointing at himself animated.

“Emu”, the boy smiles.

His face falls, disappointed. “Well, I think I heard it”, he tells Severus.

“Remus”, Severus corrects the baby, who really seems like he has a teasing look on his face, enunciating slowly and clearly. “His name is Remus”.

“Remu”, Harry repeats.

Remus whoops in delight.

“By the way, Severus”, he stops him at the door, “I think we’ll need to do some shopping soon. Half his clothes don’t fit him”.

“Ah. There’s a charity shop in the centre. We can have a look there after breakfast”.

“Thanks. We’ll come in in a jiffy”.

After they’ve eaten, they dress up for going out quickly and meet in the hallway. Remus hesitates with Harry in his arms, looking Severus up and down. “What are you wearing?”, he asks, frowning.

Severus goes red in the face. His parents and then the Dark Lord had pressured him into a strictly feminine wardrobe and out of habit he had kept the disguise up when going out in town. He’s wearing a pair of maroon thighs over his old combat boots and a purple wool skirt that reaches under his knees. Under his coat he has put on one of his mother’s old blouses she wore to church, with an embroidered collar and sleeve ends. He feels a flick of annoyance that the wolf should point it out and mock him for it. “For anonymity”, he says stiffly. “Brewing polyjuice potion is very time consuming”.

“You look nice”, Remus says, smiling. Severus doesn’t dignify the insult with an answer. “Do you think he needs a stroller?”.

“Seeing that he doesn’t walk for longer than two metres, probably yes”. He transfigures the coat rack into an umbrella stroller and sets the baby down. They pull a knitted red hat tightly over his scarred forehead and walk out.

They’ve taken Harry shopping before and he never fails to remain completely unimpressed, only occasionally shooting an arm out to point at something and name it. He finds clothes shopping even more boring and complains when they pick him up to measure the clothes against him. “Giraffes or apples, Harry?”, he holds up two sets of pyjamas with different patterns. Harry blinks and points at the giraffes. “What’s that, Harry?”.

“Raf”.
“The giraffes?”.

“Giraffe”.

“Good enough”. He puts them in the cart. “Should we bother with boots or just get spring shoes already?”.

“He doesn’t need new shoes until he starts walking”, Severus mutters, turning a corner. “That’s a lovely jumper”.

Remus stops to inspect it. “Oh, wow. Wish it was my size”.

“You can admire Harry in it”.

The lady at the check-out smiles sweetly at the baby, who smiles back, curious. “What a pretty boy! Does he take after mum or dad?”, she looks from Severus to Remus.

“Hard to tell”, Severus answers. “He’s adopted”.

“Ah”, she says delicately, still observing the two of them. “You adopted, so young? You look like you’re fresh out of school yourselves”.

“We manage”.

“Do you work here?”.

“From home. We’re writers”.

“Ah”, she goes again, nodding. “That’ll be twenty pounds, sweetheart”.

“I got it”, Remus says quickly, pulling out notes from his pocket. “You said twenty?”.

“Yes, love”. She takes it and smiles. “There’s food distribution every Sunday at St Bartholomew. If you ever need any extra help”.

Severus presses his lips into a tight line. Remus shoots him a look and answers for him. “Thank you so much. Have a good day. Say bye bye, Harry”.

“Bye bye”, says the baby, distracting the lady from her inspection of Severus. They leave the shop and head back home in silence.

“I used to go to St Bartholomew on Sundays. When I was a child”.

Remus slows the stroller down. “You grew up here?”.

He nods stiffly. “You know that. Lily, too. And–”, he clears his throat. “My mother got sick when I was young. Cancer. So she swallowed her pride and sent me to ask for help. You see, my father was– he worked, but he was– he had a problem with alcohol. So mostly he didn’t work. And so I went to church and told them who I am and that my mother is sick and we don’t have money for food. And they told me to go ask my daddy for money. To tell him he should stop spending on booze and feed his family. That’s what they said. And they sent me off. And I went again every Sunday for weeks, and they always sent me off”.

“That’s fucked up”.

“Well. They weren’t wrong. I did tell my father, because he asked where I’ve been going”.

Remus is watching him closely. “Did he get any better?”.

“He beat me black and blue”.

“Jesus Christ”, he mutters. “Why did you stay here?”.

He shrugs. “I didn’t care to leave”.

At home, they wash all the new clothes and have tea with cinnamon cake by the fireplace, and the record player plays the Beatles. Severus holds a sleepy Harry possessively in his arms, caressing his dark hair away from his face. They’ll be fine, he thinks, with new clothes and tea and cake and music. He’s got a steady income from the potions orders. They won’t ever need anybody’s help.

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It doesn’t take long for Harry to master the skill of walking and he soon becomes a living nightmare. He tangles in their legs, climbs out of his crib at night, slides through open doors and hides from them until his excited giggles give him away. Severus swoops him up from under his desk and carries him back to the living room. “I thought we’d play with your train, Harry”, he scolds him and assembles the toy. Remus peeks out from the kitchen. “Did you find him?”.

“He was in my room”.

“Little rascal. I’ll put a bell on you”.

Harry hums a little tune and throws the orange wagon at Severus’ knee. He patiently places it back in front of him. “We don’t throw things. That hurt”.

“Make some noise when he hurts you or he won’t learn”, Remus supplies from the kitchen
.
“Ouch”, Severus exhales belatedly. The sound catches the boy’s attention and he looks up, pouting guiltily. He picks up the wagon and holds it out for Severus to take. “Thank you. That’s more polite”. They’ve bought a bigger railway set with a little bridge in the middle and the wagons roll slowly along its length. Harry watches attentively. “Veve”, he calls out to Severus.

“Yes?”. He points at the moving parts. Severus makes them stop and waits. The boy takes hold of one and pushes it roughly down the rails, sending it running. “You want them to go faster?”.

“Fast”, he confirms, and Severus indulges him.

“Severus, where did you put that recipe for the dumplings?”, Remus calls.

“I’ll make them, don’t worry about it”.

“Okay, give me ten minutes to chop up everything for the stew”.

“Slow?”, Harry says.

He smiles at him. “We can make them slow down”, and he does. “If you can say fast and slow, you can pronounce my name correctly, too, you know”. Harry ignores him. He places two wagons moving in opposite directions and watches them crash and derail. “You just murdered forty people, Harry”, he informs him, to which he responds with a content hum. “Your godfather’s influence, though short-lived, has been catastrophically strong”.

“Severus”, Remus sighs from the doorway. “I’ll take over, if you want to get the dough ready”.

“Sure”.

Remus makes way for him, watching him move into the kitchen, then freezes where he stands. There’s a large red stain on the back of Severus’ gray sweatpants. He approaches him at the counter. “Severus, are you hurt?”.

His good mood evaporates. “What?”.

“You’re-- I think you’re bleeding. Are you bleeding?”.

He looks down at himself, at his wrists, then touches his face. “What?”, he asks again, confused.

“On your– your pants are red”.

He pales suddenly. His arms move to his stomach and wrap around his torso. “Ah”, he exhales weakly. “Fuck. Finish the cooking?”. And he storms out of the kitchen.

Remus sits down, head reeling. How was he bleeding so heavily, there of all places? Was there a way he could have hurt himself that badly? He had left the house yesterday, to deliver an order. Had somebody hurt him? He had looked fine when he returned, if only a bit downcast. But then Severus was often like this.

Harry waddles into the kitchen and latches himself on his legs. “Remus, drink?”.

“What drink do you want, Harry?”, he sighs, putting his worries aside for a moment. The baby stares, blinking. “Apple juice, grape juice, or milk?”. Harry moves towards the sink and points up. “Water?”.

“Oter”, he tries hesitantly.

“Here you go”.

“Please”.

“We usually say thank you, Remus, after Remus gives us a glass of water, you know”.

Harry drinks, not very interested in corrections.

He moves to the doorway and looks out at the hallway. The water is running in the bathroom. “Severus? Are you okay?”, he calls out, but gets no answer. His stomach coils with nerves. Soon, he hears the door to his bedroom close and lock. He only comes out later during Harry's dinner time, looking dishevelled, to ask if Remus needs any help, but he sends him back in with a reassurance that the baby is calm today and he can handle it. Severus offers no explanation and he doesn’t push him for any. Harry, mercifully, goes to sleep easily that night, so he has time to check up on him again. He knocks and waits.

“A moment”, his muted voice reaches him. Then the lock clicks and he opens the door. He's wrapped himself in one of his large knitted cardigans and is holding it tightly against his sternum. He looks very pale and tired. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, like he’s been crying all this time.

“Can I come in?”.

“We can sit in the living room”, he proposes instead and nudges him into the hallway. Remus glances into the room, but finds it in proper order. “Of course. I'll make some tea?”.

Severus nods once, stiffly.

He finds him a few minutes later curled up like a cat on the armchair by the fireplace. He holds himself very rigid, as if his whole body is in pain. “What happened?”, he asks, as he serves them. He moves towards him and places the warm cup inside Severus’ fingers, then lights up a fire with a move of his wand. He sits cross-legged on the carpet with his own cup on his lap.

“I'm, uh. Slightly indisposed”.

“Severus”, he tries to speak reassuringly, though his heart is beating in his throat, “you can tell me if something happened. If you had an accident, or, or, if somebody hurt you. I'll see that they never lay a hand on you again, I swear”.

“What? No, what are you talking about?”. He's looking at him, bewildered. “Nothing happened to me, Lupin, I'm just on my period. And it's been a long time since the last, so I'm a bit all over the place. I'm sorry for earlier”.

Remus, delicately, says nothing, and stares at his cup, at a loss for words, feeling very stupid. They fall into an awkward silence.

“You didn't know”, Severus guesses with a sigh.

“No”, he confirms.

“Well. I'll take that as a compliment”.

“What, um. I mean, you weren’t expecting it?”.

“I have been neglecting my prescriptions as of late, so logically I knew it was a possibility, but I didn’t truly consider it. It seems my body works fine, no matter how much effort has been put in the opposite direction”. He speaks those last words bitterly.

“Are the medications expensive?”, he asks, feeling guilty.

“This shouldn't concern you. It's fine, Lupin. Nobody but the baby and you have been seeing me lately. When I sort myself out, I'll get back to it”.

“Can I help?”, he insists.

Something in his face softens. “You're helping. If anything, I should be happy I'm healthy enough to have a period. I've gone through times before when I was not on testosterone and this was not the case. Keep feeding me chocolate frogs and I'll be fine”. A stiff smile makes its way on his face. He looks embarrassed. “Harry’s in bed?”.

“He slept a while ago. This doesn't change anything, you know that, right?”.

“Thank you, Lupin, but I do not wish to discuss it further”.

“Okay. Well, I won't tell anyone. So don't worry about that at all”.

“A lot of people know. It's not a secret”.

Remus stares at his hands. “Not that it matters”, he adds.

“No”, Severus says quietly. “It doesn't".

He sips his tea. “Why were you crying?”.

Severus squirms uncomfortably in his seat and brings his knees to his chest. The cup jiggles dangerously on the armrest and he picks it up again, muttering an incantation to heat it up, then does the same for Remus’. “I… feel very disgusting sometimes. I am, sometimes”. He impatiently waves away Remus’ eager urge to deny this. “And menstruating has been a reminder of times I've spent as… well, perceived as a woman. Which have not been very pleasant, for me or others. And I feel this terrible guilt that Harry's stuck with me, now. Not that you can't– of course, I won't force you to stay here should you find alternative arrangements, but under current circumstances–”.

“Severus”, he interrupts him. “Nobody's stuck with you. I owe you my life for what you're doing”.

He shakes his head. “Only you could be so daft, Lupin, as to assume–”.

“Harry loves you”.

“He's an infant, he could love a bloody Dementor if it waved at him!”.

“He loves you, because you're being so good with him. You're being so gentle. You're taking care of us, and I can't tell you how grateful I am”.

He keeps stubbornly shaking his head. “You don't know what I've done”.

“I know what I see. And I trust you with Harry, as much as I trusted his own parents”.

There are tears shining in his dark eyes. “I don't trust myself with Harry! What if I end up–”. He cuts himself off, presses the base of his palms against his eyes and groans with frustration as the tears start running. “There's something rotten in me. And I don't want to hurt him”.

He doesn't try to console him by getting closer. Severus is ever avert to being touched. “The people who hurt children, Severus, do not have such qualms, and I'm sure you've met your fair share of them in the past years to know this. Stop torturing yourself with these thoughts”.

“But what if I snap someday and can't control myself and–”

“You won't. And if something goes so terribly wrong or you're put under an Imperio curse and can't act like yourself, I won't let you do anything you'd regret. Okay? You're not on your own now. Other people have their eyes on Harry, and on you, too”.

He rubs his eyes. “You'll stop me?”, is what he insists on.

“Yes, Severus”.

“Promise me”.

He takes a deep breath and extends an arm to gingerly touch his shin. Severus stares down at him, frozen, but determined. “Just like you've promised to keep Harry away from me once a month at all costs, for his own protection. Should you need space, you'll have it. I promise. Okay?”.

He nods, shakily. “Thank you”.

He lets him compose himself and serves more warmed tea. They drink, looking into the fire.
“Sometimes I want to take a very strong dose of my euphoria elixirs and not think about a thing for a while”, Severus admits in the silence.

Remus stirs, alarmed. “Have you been doing this?”.

He shakes his head. “Not now. With the baby, I mean, I want to be present. But I used to take them all the time when I wasn't in a meeting or a mission. I didn't have much of a life. I saw people get tortured and murdered and then watched the cracks of my bedroom ceiling entirely content with no thought in my brain, and that was it”.

Remus drags his body closer to the armchair. “It's not easy to be present”, he says carefully.

He shrugs. “I'm very tired, sometimes”.

“Me too”, he agrees. “But there are other ways to stop thinking about unpleasant things”.

He scoffs. “Like what? Having a beer with your pals? Solving a crossword?”.

He stretches his torso and rests an elbow on the free space of the armchair seat, next to Severus’ woolen orange socks, and looks up at him. “Things like that, yeah. Talking to friends helps a lot, for sure”.

“I don't have any friends”.

Remus snorts amused, then sobers abruptly at the sight of Severus’ flushed face. “You wound me, Severus. Such words to say right in my face”.

He sits gaping at him. “You don't even like me”.

“I think, for all your intelligence, you are quite stupid”.

He turns his face away, still red at the cheeks. “Fuck off”.

“Severus? Do you really doubt this? I like you. You've grown to be my closest friend these past months. Frankly, I should be insulted that I even have to say this out loud”. He's still not looking at him. “Are the feelings not mutual?”.

He shakes his head. “I do like you, Lupin. I hadn't thought about it like that, is all”.

“You are excused this once”.

He looks away while Severus dries his face with a sleeve. “Enjoy my emotional dysregulation while it lasts, because I'm not having this conversation again”, he mutters, ears the colour of beetroots.

Remus smiles warmly. “Hard times of the month must always be excused, I should think”.

“Merlin. You have noted down that you should start taking your potion on Wednesday?”.

“Yes, sir”.

“I don’t think I’ll go to sleep yet”, he says later, and it sounds like an invitation.

“We can play some music very quietly?”. They look through Severus’ collection of vinyls and settle on On the Threshold of A Dream by the Moody Blues, which Remus hadn’t listened to before. They listen quietly all the way to Are You Sitting Comfortably?

“You have very nice taste”, Remus compliments him. “Sirius is very into music, but his choices sometimes got too loud. He likes punk and stuff. Some underground hard rock things”.

“Very fitting”, Severus murmurs. “He’d listen to anything that sounds like dogs barking”.

He laughs. “I suppose so. Lily has similar taste to yours”.

Severus hugs his knees. “My first vinyl was a gift from her”, he admits quietly. “When we were thirteen”.

“Which one?”.

“That Simon and Garfunkel one Harry likes”.

Remus leans against the armchair, looking up towards the other man. “Why didn’t you try and fix things?”, he asks.

He scoffs. “I was a deatheater. And I was ashamed. I ruin everything I touch. I didn’t want to burden her with my presence, when she was so happy with Potter. It would be selfish. And besides, she had no reason to forgive me. She had given me everything. She was my first friend, my best friend. I introduced myself as Severus, I told her I was a boy. And I was wearing a little dress that day, and my hair was in plaids. And she didn’t bat an eye. She never asked me about it. She gave me everything, and I gave nothing back”.

Remus stays quiet for a while. “You’re very harsh on yourself, Severus”.

“It’s ridiculous that you’ve lived in my house for months and you can say this”.

“Do you think you’ve given us nothing, also? To Harry and me?”.

He looks away. “It’s not such a big charity on my part, to let you in the house”.

“It’s not just the house, you know. Would you believe me if I told you?”. He reaches up and holds his wrist in a loose grasp. “I haven’t felt very safe in my life. Even with Sirius, there was this anxiety always that we’ll get caught and killed, or that something will go wrong… Here, I’ve spent days where not one bad thought crosses my mind. And I feel terribly guilty about it, that this has come at such a great cost, and selfish, but it’s true. We have been safe here. Cared for. Like somebody’s watching over us”.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lupin”. He pulls his arm away.

He pauses for a few moments. “Perhaps not”. He gets up from the floor. “I really hope you feel better, Severus”. When he sees Severus sitting up, he places a hand on his shoulder for just a second. “You can stay here. It’s your house after all”. Then leaves.

The record player keeps turning. He casts a muffliato and cries until he runs dry.

In the morning, he wakes up to the smell of baked goods. He finds Remus and Harry in the kitchen, both covered in flour. Harry is sitting on top of the counter, drawing shapes with a finger on the floured countertop. A lot of it has dropped to the floor.

“Goodmorning!”, the man calls out, in a jolly mood. “We made blueberry muffins”. He approaches Severus and pulls both his hands inside his own, stained with batter. “I know you were sad yesterday and I wanted to say sorry if I said anything that further upset you. And we– well, I’m not speaking for Harry, but I’m sure he’d agree if he could speak, but I’m very thankful to know you like I do now. And you’re the best host and the best roommate I could ask for and I like you. A lot. For the record”. He’s awkwardly rubbing circles on top of Severus’ knuckles with his thumbs, spreading the batter on them.

Severus breathes out. “That’s all?”.

“Well. Yes, I think”.

“You’re a tad dramatic, Lupin”. He moves to wash his hands in the sink.

“Sure. Yes. Try a muffin”.

The muffins are good. He tells Remus so and he beams with joy.

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Harry doesn’t handle the next full moon well. Severus has to pull him away from Remu’s door a few times a day, coming up with a dozen ways to distract him when he speaks his name. “Remus is sick, Harry”, he keeps repeating. “You can’t see him”. The baby wails his frustration, throwing things and screaming. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m very sorry”. He goes a day without eating, spitting food out and crying when he’s too tired to play. Severus barely has any time to check up on Lupin and make sure he’s handling his transformation alright. The wolf seems agitated, pacing around and whining every time he opens the door. Severus keeps apologizing, at a loss. He forgets to fill up Remus’ water the second day and he burns dinner. Harry chews on a ham sandwich, refusing to speak a word. When he pulls out paper and markers to draw, he rips the paper to pieces and he stabs Severus furiously with a marker, then continues to slam his fists against the man’s chest when he takes it away from him. “You can’t see him, Harry”, he says firmly. “Music?”.

“No! Remus!”.

“He’s okay. You’ll see him tomorrow, I promise you. Tomorrow, Remus will be here for breakfast, okay?”. He bites him during bath time and it leaves a nasty bruise on his forearm. Severus finally puts him to sleep, exhausted by the latest tantrum. He keeps waking up during the night, crying. “Veve, go!”, he keeps saying through tears, between cries for Remus. “Go!”. Severus rests his head on his hands and occludes into a quiet space, trying not to overthink it. He only misses Remus. There’s nothing he can do.

The next morning, both men are up with the break of dawn before the baby has woken, with dark circles under their eyes. “I’m sorry, Severus”, Remus says, patting his knee. “I didn’t know he gets so difficult”.

“It’s okay. He only misses you. It’s not a crime”.

“He was like this a lot last year. Only less verbal about it”.

“It’s understandable that he would develop some attachment issues. It’ll be easier when he’s older and he understands more things”.

Remus sighs. “Are you okay?”.

“I’ll sleep it off. As should you”.

He nods, smiling. “Coffee, I think, is needed”.

“Yes, please”.

For the rest of the day, Harry acts as if his previous outbursts never happened. They move his crib back to Remus’ room for the night, as usual, and then they have the second episode. Harry wakes up again in the middle of the night, missing one of them again.

“Veve!”, Harry demands, his name for Severus. “Veve!”, then bursts into sobs.

“Sh, sh, sh”, Remus picks him up and rubs his back. “Severus is sleeping, sweet thing. You'll see him in the morning. Come on, Harry, please”.

“Veve”, he cries out muffled into Remus’ chest, wetting his pyjamas with tears.

“It's just me for now. Oh, Harry, what's gotten into you?”.

But he won't calm down. There's a knock on his door and he sighs. “Come in. He's screaming for you”. Severus quietly approaches them, cocking his head to the side in inquiry. He's wide awake himself. “Here’s Severus. Look”, and nudges Harry's chin gently. The baby squeaks and holds out his arms.

“Should I hold him?”, he asks quietly.

“Please”.

He takes Harry and rocks him as he paces circles around the room, in slow, long strides. Remus sits back on his bed and watches him with a warmth blooming in his chest. Harry immediately quietens, babbles complaints tiredly looking up at Severus’ face, then drops back to sleep. The man slows down and lowers him in his crib. “He just passes out once he gets what he wants”, he whispers as he sits next to Remus, eyes still watching the boy. “I'll put him to sleep tomorrow”.

“Sorry for waking you up”.

He shakes his head. “He wouldn't have let you sleep a wink. I wasn't sleeping much anyway”.

He could tell by the dark shadows under his eyes. “Care for some tea?”. He nods and follows him into the living room. “Just wait a minute”.

Remus brings the kettle over to the coffee table and plops next to Severus on the couch. The man wiggles his knees, pulling them closer to his chest, and rests his chin on them. “I’ll give you a sleeping draught at dinner. You haven’t slept in days”.

Remus nods, nudging Severus with a knee as a thanks. “What are we making?”.

Severus hums. “We haven't tried chicken in a while?”, he suggests.

“He's not going to like that”.

“I'll make a roast with green beans. And if he doesn't like that, he'll have buttered pasta and we'll have leftovers for the weekend”.

“Except we don't have any chicken, or pasta, or butter”.

He thinks about their pantry ingredients. “We do have green beans. And tuna?”.

“He hates tuna”.

“He hasn't tried it in a red sauce”.

“We still don't have pasta”.

“We have potatoes”. He sighs. “We need to get groceries. We're out of his cereal and he's throwing tantrums over oatmeal”.

“Talk about expensive tastes”, Remus mumbles.

They fall into a small silence as they drink their tea. “I'm getting the payment from the hospital on Monday”, he says. “We can go then”.

Remus shakes his head. “I'll handle it this time”.

“It's fine, Lupin. It was an expensive order, so I'm going to be very rich”. He grins at him. “Keep your money for the next time the monster grows a size and needs a new wardrobe”.

He rubs at the nape of his neck, self conscious. “Dumbledore has been skipping some payments, is all, and job hunting hasn't been exactly prosperous, so–”.

He places a hand on his knee to stop him. “It's fine. Harry has all that he needs”.

“You've been giving him all that he needs and I've been squatting in your house like a cockroach".

He makes a face. “First of all, don't say the c word in my house, because if I see any, I'll feed them to you in a stew”.

Remus exhales with a small laugh. “And I'll say, thank you, Mr. Snape, it's delicious”.

He nods in approval, an amused smile on his lips. “Weren't you the one saying we're friends?”.

Remus groans.

“And if you had all the money in the world, wouldn't you give me just a little bit?”.

“You don't have all the money in the world, Severus”.

“I have more than I care for. If it wasn't for you two requiring proper nutrition, I'd live off stale bread, earl grey and gin”.

It makes Remus sad, because he knows Severus means this, and he pushes his arm against his, leaning his head on his shoulder. Severus relaxes into the touch. “We should probably go back to bed”, he says a while later.

“Mhm”, Remus agrees and scoots closer to him and their knees knock together.

They fall asleep on the couch, until Harry wakes them, shouting their names in his loud morning voice.

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They've been spending most evenings together now in each other's company, listening to music with a cup of tea while the baby sleeps in the bedroom. They have an appointed blanket for evening sofa time, which they drape over their legs and it forces them closer to each other to cover them both. They don't complain.

Remus studies the profile of Severus’ face with intensity that night, and he's nauseous with want, bursting with affection. “Sev”, he whispers.

“Mhm?”.

“Do you like men?”.

He smiles amused. “Some of them, sure”.

“Romantically?”.

“Yes?”.

“And me?”.

“Um? Maybe?”. He raises an eyebrow, blushing deeply, and turns to him, as if to observe his features. “You're not half bad, I suppose”.

“Yeah?”.

“Mhm”.

“Cause I've been thinking”. He raises an arm and trails carefully, carefully the line of his jaw with the knuckle of his pointer, then the bridge of his nose. Taps at the point of it, drags his finger down his cupid brow and tugs at his lower lip. Severus closes his eyes, breathing softly. “You're so beautiful”, he whispers. “I don't think you have any idea”.

“An acquired taste”, he murmurs.

He brings his face close to his, rubs his own nose at his cheek, then presses slowly his lips at the edge of his mouth. Kisses his jaw, the hollow underneath. His neck. Small dry kisses against his skin. Severus is limp against him.

“I feel so much for you”.

“It sounds to me like an effect of your prolonged social isolation”. But his fingers are holding Remus’ wrist tight and warm, feeling the rhythm of his beating blood. When he kisses his mouth again, he opens for him. He still tastes of tea.

“Would you want this?”, he asks.

“It really does seem to me like co-dependency”.

“Can I be co-dependent?”.

Severus bites his lip and it sends shivers down Remus’ spine. “Is this wise?”.

“Yeah. Wisdom drips off me. I fell in a cauldron full of wisdom when I was a child and drank all of it, you know”.

He smiles. “In that case, I suppose I'll trust your judgment”. He crosses the empty space between them with a stretch of his neck. They kiss and the world melts away.

Soon, they start sleeping together in Remus’ double bed, which makes Harry very happy in the mornings.

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After the next moon, Remus stops him in the doorway as he’s levitating the crib back from his room to Remus’. “Leave it here tonight? He’s been calm at night”.

“My bed doesn’t fit both of us, Lupin”.

“We’re not sleeping in your bed. Harry will be fine on his own”.

Severus’ heart starts beating fast as the realization slowly dawns but it’s Harry’s dinner time and he can’t discuss this right now without getting distracted. So he leaves the crib where it was and wordlessly moves back to the kitchen. There’s a building dread in his stomach and he keeps Harry awake for as long as possible to avoid the confrontation, until the baby is too exhausted and drops asleep as if bewitched.

“Did you put him to bed?”, Remus calls from the other room.

“Yes”, he replies stiffly. He stops at the doorway and looks at the other man, who’s sitting cross-legged on top of the bed, in a t-shirt and underwear. He decides to make it quick and he takes a breath, bracing himself. “I don’t want to have sex”, he states coldly.

He makes a grimace. “Oh, Severus, come here”, he says and gets up from the mattress, meeting him at the door and pulling him in a hug. He remains frozen in place, ears buzzing. “I’m sorry. It was one of the ideas, but I would have talked to you first, of course. I was meaning to make a presentation. Sorry for the ominous introduction. Come sit down”. He coaxes him on the bed and under a blanket.

“I don’t want to”, he repeats, feeling like a petulant child, and humiliation burns him from the inside.

“We won’t. Of course not. I should have asked you before”. He squeezes him inside his arms again.

“But you wanted to?”.

“I want to be with you. I don’t care how. I was just going to ask about it”.

“I can’t”.

“We won’t, Severus”.

“I’m sorry”.

“No, don’t say this. I don’t care. Really. I love you”. He kisses the crown of his head with an anxious energy.

“You say this now”, he mutters bitterly.

He turns to look him in the eyes. “I mean it. If you don't want to, we won't. I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up earlier to clear this out”.

Severus worries at his lips. “I do like you. And being close to you”.

Remus’ stiff muscles soften. “I know you do”.

He squirms restlessly, feeling like he owes him an explanation. “I just worry that I won’t like you anymore if we do it. Sometimes it’s so humiliating and it makes me feel disgusting”.

Remus holds him very close, very gently. “Okay”, he says carefully. “That’s not good, for sure”.

“They didn’t even like me or find me attractive or anything. They didn’t think I was a man. I was just easy to get”.

“That isn’t right. I’m sorry”. He rubs his arms soothingly. “It wouldn’t be like that with us, if you ever wanted to try again”.

He tries to decipher the proposition. “Not now”, he asks. “I’d like to try, maybe, but not now”.

“Of course not now, sweetheart. Of course not”.

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They don’t bring it up again until a few weeks later, when they’re making out on the sofa and Severus finds himself straddling Remus’ thigh and sliding his pelvis to reach his face lower to the other man’s neck. The movement lights sparks inside him and he draws in a breath. Remus hands settle on his hips and he pulls his pelvis back along his thigh, which makes Severus hide his face inside the crook of his shoulder, gulping. “Okay”, he says, voice strained. “Sorry, I just–”. Remus rocks his knee and it cuts his sentence short.

“Good?”, he asks.

“Well, yeah–”.

“Good”. He searches for his lips again, kissing him while his arms guide Severus’ body back and forth. The pressure keeps building in his lower stomach. Remus leaves wet kisses on his neck, which never fail to undo him completely. There’s a burning urgency inside him.

“Fuck, Remus, wait”, he pushes down on the man’s shoulders and stops the rocking. “I need to finish this with a little more friction, I think”.

Remus keeps mouthing absently at his throat. “Don’t mind me. Do what you need”. But he helps him get off his lap and settle on the couch, leaning over him and running hands up and down his ribs. Severus closes his eyes and slips a hand inside his underwear, fingers trailing the swollen glans. “Fuck, Remus”, he repeats breathlessly, feeling teeth gently grazing his skin, giving him goosebumps. He climaxes with a strained grunt and immediately pulls Remus in for a deep kiss, lapping the warm muscle of his tongue as the tension is released from his body. He drops boneless against the cushions.

“Hot”, Remus comments once they break the kiss, a little winded himself. He lies flat against him and pulls Severus’ hand –the one he used, mind you– up to kiss his knuckles.

“That’s kind of disgusting”, Severus says earnestly.

“I’m a disgusting man”, he agrees, kissing his way up his wrist. “You just smell really good”.

“Jesus Christ, stop sniffing like a dog”.

He drops his head against Severus’ shoulder and breathes in deeply his scent. “I’m only breathing”, he says. “You’re just in my way”.

He shifts his legs and becomes aware of Remus’ erection pressing against his thigh. He pushes towards him experimentally. The man goes red in the face. He trails a hand under his t-shirt, caressing his stomach, then moves lower and palms the bulge over the fabric of his underwear, moving slowly up and down. Remus soon grasps his wrist and makes an unfamiliar sound, a soft high-pitched complaint, then curls into himself, muscles tensing. He exhales a sharp breath. “I do have better self control, I swear”, he gasps, laughing awkwardly.

“I’m flattered, I think”.

“Yeah”, he agrees. He gets back to his task of kissing Severus’ throat, slowly sucking a love mark, while their heartbeats gradually return to a healthy, steady rhythm.

Later, they’ve moved to the bedroom and they’re lying tangled together on the bed. Severus stirs, nudging Remus with an elbow. “Question”.

“Yes?”, Remus asks sleepily.

“We’re counting that as sex?”.

“Um, yes? Do you want to check the dictionary first?”.

Severus tsk’s annoyed, but settles closer, rubbing a cheek against Remus’ sternum. “We can have more of that”.

Remus whistles. “If I ever say no to that proposition, do kill me quickly”.

“Shut up. Goodnight”.

“Night night, hot stuff”.

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Getting naked is easier than he had expected, and not in the passive way of doing it quickly to get it over with. They spend time studying each other, tracing scars. Remus shows him the bite and tells him the story of his first transformation. He shows him scars where he gnawed at his legs. These marks from his childhood were the worst, because they hadn’t grown with him, but stretched and pulled at his skin. He tells him some of them split anew during growth spurts. He has other scars too; a bicycle incident, a potion gone wrong in class, a blasting curse cast in his direction. There are dots tattooed on a spot underneath his collarbone. He says they form a constellation, that he got it for Sirius.

Severus doesn’t give explanations, but lets Remus look nonetheless, shivering underneath his touch. He had seen his wrists already and he never shamed him for his self-destructive little hobby, but now he’s studying him from behind, where Severus knows his pale skin carries each mark with devastating intensity. He's caressing the back of his arms, fingertips pressing the white circles above his elbows. There are scars over his shoulder blades and lower back where the skin had split and healed badly, merging into thick rope-like scar tissue. “These are old”, he whispers, touching them to indicate what he's talking about.

“My father used to belt me”, he says and shrugs the hands off.

“Jesus fucking Christ. I hope he’s dead. Is he dead?”.

“Four years now”.

“Good”. He pulls him close and kisses him until he goes lax in his arms. “You are so lovely”, he says. “I want to hurt everyone who ever hurt you”.

He sighs melodramatically. “What would I do without my big brave wolf?”.

“You’d still be a little prick, I should think”. He pushes him lightly against the pillows.

“I should make up somehow for not having one”.

“I will not laugh because it’s rude”. He stretches his palms over his naked torso, thumbs pressed against his nipples. He looks up, shooting Severus a questioning look. “Too soon after the trauma dump?”.

“Tragedy turns me on”. Severus bends his waist and moves up to kiss his stupid mouth, then lies back down and lets Remus continue his slow descent down his body. He closes his eyes and tries to drive away the feeling of embarrassment he feels lying exposed before another pair of eyes. Remus picks up on his nervous energy and returns to his side, kissing his mouth until he relaxes into him, then a hand slyly cups his groin, palm pressing at all the soft spots. Severus jerks a little under the touch, aroused, and Remus slides back down, pushing one knee to the side. He leans his head against the inside of his thigh, breathing in and out slowly. “You smell so nice”, he whispers.

“You're insane”.

He presses a wet kiss there, sucking slowly, then presses his thumb against his bud. He kisses that too, pressing it between his lips, and starts working with his tongue. Severus falls back on the sheets with an exhale of breath. He feels his fingers, tangled in his hair, caressing his skull in the rhythm of his ministrations. When he moves to nudge at his opening with a finger, his grasp stiffens. “Not inside”, he asks, and Remus retrieves his hands, lifting them back up to his thighs and presses lines along their length with the base of his palms. He's quiet, inhaling sharp breaths, then letting them out slowly. They grow laboured gradually until he's panting. He feels the tension first in the muscle of his legs, against his cheek, then his hips lift up with a sweet soft grunt from the mattress. Remus slows down, counting one, two, three thrusts. He moves back. Presses one more kiss against the swollen glans. A fourth jerk of his pelvis. And one more. A fifth. Then the tension is released from his body.

“Merlin”, he gasps.

“I'm Remus”, he offers, which sends Severus in a round of giggles. He moves up and lies down next to him, bringing his arms around his waist. Severus’ own hand is caressing his belly. He eyes the undeniable bulge in his underwear.

“You don't have to”, Remus says.

“Such a gentleman”. He untangles himself from Remus’ hold and pulls the underwear down his thighs. Lying his head on Remus’ tan sternum, he closes his fingers around his length and lazily strokes it with sharp bends of his wrist. He mouths at the trail of pale hair down his abdomen, going lower and lower. One quick peck of his lips against the sensitive head is enough to send Remus over the edge, and he twists his hips politely to the side, groaning.
When he turns back and moves to kiss him, Severus meets him halfway. He curls up, pressing his body against Remus, one arm hugging him close. “Alright?”, he asks him.
Severus nods into his chest, mouthing at the line of his ribcage. Then, he stops and looks up. “One more time?”, he asks shyly.

“Of course, sweet thing. Come here”. He positions him against the pillows and lowers himself between his legs. “Not inside?”. “No”. He makes sure Severus is thoroughly spent before he lies back down. When he feels fingers against his groin, he shakes his head. “I'm okay”. He's oversensitive and waits for the arousal to pass, breathing deeply into Severus' scent. They sit in silence for a while. “Sleep or tea?”, he asks him when he feels ready to wash up.

“I'd like some tea”.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?”.

“You go first”.

He kisses the crown of his head before he gets up. Severus is watching him attentively as he picks up clean clothes and a towel, dark eyes very big against his pale face.

Later, when they're tangled together on the sofa, he's kissing away the morose air that has settled over his love.

“Do you mean it?”, Severus finally asks him in the silence of the early morning.

Remus tilts his head to look him in the eyes. “I adore you”, he says.

Severus swallows thickly, colour blossoming in his cheeks. “Thank you”. He hides his face in the crook of Remus’ shoulder again. “I like you too”, he murmurs, muffled. Then sighs: “I'm sorry for not having sex”.

Remus raises an eyebrow. “What do you think we’ve been doing, exactly?”.

He groans, annoyed. “I mean, the penetration part?”, he clarifies.

“I don't care one bit, Severus”, he tells him earnestly. “I just want to be close to you. It's not very important how”.

He pauses in thought. “Did I tire you?”.

“You did”.

Another pause. “In a good way or bad way?”.

“Very good”.

“You're not just saying this to make me feel better?”.

“You must have noticed you drained my balls, surely”.

He lets out a shocked sound at the choice of words. “Shut up. Vile man”.

Remus smiles into his hair. “My baby”, he whispers in his ear, and Severus melts into his embrace.

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Remus is easy in his shows of affection. He can’t help it, he’s so full of love. He watches silently from the doorway as Severus is looking through his vinyls, humming melodies at Harry to help him decide what to play. He walks up to him, hugs his waist from behind and kisses his exposed nape. “Remus!”, he exclaims, caught by surprise.

Remus goes faint with tenderness. “Say it again”, he whispers, placing his lips back on him.

“What, your name?”.

He makes a sound of agreement.

“Remus”. His face grows red, a little embarrassed by how much he likes to hear it. Severus rolls the r in his mouth, drags the vowels, holds the m between his lips with a smile: “Remus. My baby. Remus. Remus”.

“Baby”, Harry parrots, looking up from his game.

“That's you, sweetheart”, Remus says a little out of breath. “Harry's a baby”.

“Remus”, Harry continues, being quite serious about it.

“Remus is baby too”, Severus whispers in his ear, giggling.

“I'm the baby”, Harry says to his toys. Then goes on singing his own name in a disastrous musical composition: “Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry”.

“Perfect little narcissist like his father, this one”, Snape comments with a playfully raised eyebrow.

“On this I must agree”.

“Veve, drink?”.

“Severus, could I have a drink, please?”, he corrects him as he heads to the kitchen to pour him some apple juice.

“Yes, please”, the baby answers the question.