Entry tags:

hp slash, remus/severus

Snupin Santa Reveals & fic
The masterlist is up for Snupin Santa, so now I know that the wonderful art I received was drawn by andreanna . It is Lupin/Snape/another Snape?! (ok, one of those Snapes might be Tonks) and features the hottest Snupin snog ever, plus Snape blushing delightfully whilst wearing far too many elaborate layers of clothing. Y'all should take a look (mild NWS-ness, but the link isn't direct).

I can also come clean about my first ever Snupin fic, The Inverse of Hormesis, which I wrote for apythia and was really nervous about. As it turned out Snupin fans are incredibly generous people who said nice things about the fic even though it is rather cliche and contains no porn (which I'd assumed was near obligatory for Snupin, but what do I know) so I've been thrilled at the fic's reception. Thanks to all those who left comments and without further ado...

Title: The Inverse of Hormesis
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Remus/Severus, implied Remus/Sirius
Wordcount: approx 5700
Prompt: apythia requested our heroes taking shelter from a storm inside a bookshop. Also written for my 100_quills prompt 20 'weather'
Summary: An improbable meeting in a Muggle bookshop leads Snape and Lupin to re-evaluate one another.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters & make no profit from writing about them.
Notes: Many thanks to nathaniel_hp for beta-ing this fic; his very astute comments improved it greatly. The quote from Paracelsus is courtesy of Wikipedia. The explanation of hormesis (and idea for the title) are courtesy of New Scientist magazine, 9th August 2008.


Read the story at Snupin Santa or...


Hormesis – the defining characteristic is the 'biphasic dose response', whereby high doses of a substance are toxic but low doses are beneficial.

"All things are poison and nothing is without poison, only the dose permits something not to be poisonous." Paracelsus, sixteenth century alchemist.


The small second-hand bookshop in Llanberis high street was the sole thing that made the town bearable. Well, this was a slight exaggeration: Severus had chosen the town according to the criteria of being extremely remote and as far from any magical settlement as one could get within the British Isles. However, when faced with a choice between the tiny Isle of Wight and the wild mountains of North Wales, the bookshop had swung it.

As used bookstores went, this was an unusually good one. While the stock of magical books implied that the proprietor was a witch or wizard, Severus had no desire for further details. His need for anonymity meant that curiosity was a luxury he could ill afford.

Severus visited the shop every Tuesday, which was when the newly purchased books first arrived on the shelves. Although there was a lot of mediocre fiction, the selection usually included a month-old edition of the definitive journal Potions. This being a Saturday, Severus was idly browsing the shelves, and it was merely an unfortunate coincidence that he was in the bookshop when the door swung open and someone magical stepped inside.

Severus had been a spy for approaching twenty years, so his continued survival was proof of sharp reflexes. He was looking round in suspicion even before he heard the newcomer's sharp intake of breath.

"Snape," said Lupin quietly. "Evidently I wasn't alone in learning a thing or two from Peter."

This was a bookshop, a Muggle bookshop, in the middle of a town street. If he wanted to maintain his cover, then Severus could not draw his wand. That was what he had to remember.

"I'm afraid I don't recall you," he replied coolly. "Excuse me."

It was only a few steps to the door and Severus' fingers were already on the handle when Lupin said, "I don't think you want to –"

He flung open the door and was almost knocked off his feet by the gale. Outside, hail the size of pebbles was pelting down on the few unfortunates left in the street, all of whom were fleeing for shelter. Severus saw one woman leaning sharply into the wind as she struggled towards her car and then her scarf blew past faster than he could run.

With some effort, he slammed the door shut, and the dusty papers which had been whirling around the small bookshop drifted to the floor.

"I think you'd better keep that shut for a while," the sales clerk said crossly. She gave Severus a very pointed look and then bent down to collect the paper.

Severus glared at Lupin.

"Pathetic fallacy?" Lupin asked, with a hint of a smile.

Severus ignored this and stalked away. He turned the corner behind a large bookshelf, positioning himself in the opposite corner of the shop from Lupin. The light was dimmer here and the books were mustier, but gloomy silence was certainly preferable to -

"Snape," repeated Lupin, who had followed him. "I must say that I'm surprised to see you… upright."

"Likewise," Severus replied, turning his back on Lupin and raising a book.

"I imagine there's a story there. Not unlike my own, perhaps."

"I value my privacy. Your enquiries are unwelcome."

Lupin murmured, "Muffliato," and sheer outrage sent Severus spinning round before he stopped to think.

"You have the nerve to use my spell," Severus hissed.

Lupin smiled at him with satisfaction. "It is you, then. I wasn't sure at first, but thank you for confirming it."

"Get out," Severus ordered.

"Really, Snape, you needn't be so hostile. This isn't your exclusive territory, and you're not the only person in need of a quiet place to live."

"I don't live here," Severus said as scornfully as he could manage, "and my affairs are none of your business."

"I can see that you live locally. You stalk round this shop like you did in the dungeons," Lupin said evenly, leaning up against the bookshelf. He was still wearing that annoying half-smile and Severus wanted to curse him to pieces.

"Aren't you curious?" Lupin asked.

"Your pitiful existence has never incited the slightest interest from me," Severus sneered.

"That's unfortunate, because I could use your skills. I think we could reach a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"Absolutely not."

"Then we'll both be the poorer," Lupin said, sounding regretful. "I'm sure we'll run into each other again."

As Lupin made as if to leave, it was cruelty rather than curiosity which prompted Severus to say, "And what of your whelp?"

Lupin made no attempt to conceal the pain which flashed across his face. "It's in his best interest. The legal battles for custody against the Ministry would be lengthy and complex. No child deserves that."

"How convenient that the sacrifice absolves you of responsibility for your mistakes."

"You're in no position to judge my mistakes," Lupin said, in a tone containing just a hint of threat. "Speaking of which, I trust I can rely on your silence?"

Severus' eyes narrowed. "Temporarily."

"Excellent. Good day, Severus," Lupin said, and was gone before Severus could protest the unwanted familiarity. The man was intolerable. Severus would need to avoid him from now on.

As bad luck would have it, Lupin was in the bookshop leafing through the new purchases when Severus arrived on Tuesday morning.

"Like a bad penny, aren't I?" Lupin said cheerfully.

Severus retreated and slammed the door behind him.

He returned late that afternoon and was furious to find that his regular copy of Potions was missing.

"That other fellow bought it," the girl said, in her usual surly manner. "Friend of yours?"

"He is no such thing!" Severus snapped. "Reserve it for me in future."

"You'll just have to get here earlier," the girl said, returning to her trashy paperback.

The following Tuesday, Severus arrived several minutes before the shop opened. He was browsing triumphantly through the pile of new purchases when Lupin entered.

"Morning," Lupin said, shaking his umbrella and putting it into the stand by the door, "I see you have –"

"The previous edition of Potions," Severus interrupted, "I'll buy from you."

"That isn't necessary," Lupin said, appearing slightly taken aback. "Look, Snape, I'm sure we can reach an agreement about sharing -"

"No."

"It really would be easier if you'd stop interrupting," Lupin scolded, sounding every bit the teacher that he had previously been. "I am perfectly willing to lend you the magazine in exchange for a modicum of civility on your part."

"No."

"I see. Then the early bird gets the magazine from now on," Lupin said, leaning over to grasp the small pile of new books which Severus had yet to examine.

Severus grabbed the books and for several seconds they were engaged in a furious, silent tussle. Then Lupin trod heavily on his foot and jerked the pile of books sharply out of his hands.

"Terribly sorry about that, I'll pass these over as soon as I'm done," Lupin lied cheerfully and made off with the books.

If looks could kill, Severus' look would have felled Lupin. As it was, he took a deep breath, gripped the issue of Potions firmly and took his purchases to the counter. On his way out of the shop, Severus paused behind Lupin with what he hoped was an air of menace.

"I repeat my offer to purchase the journal. At a premium. I sincerely doubt you are capable of comprehending its contents."

"Some of it is a little technical, but the centenary article about Flamel's concoction of – are you all right?"

"I merely require the journal," Severus said, enunciating carefully as he fought to control his temper. "In exchange for your absence from this bookshop, I am prepared to offer the substance I have previously provided."

"There's no question of my absence," Lupin said. "I've moved in down the road. Look, if you want the magazine, then come for tea later and I'll lend it to you. All this drama and posturing is completely unnecessary."

"Tea," Severus said, in the tone another man might have used for the word 'Strychnine.'

"Yes, tea. I'll expect you at three," Lupin replied, handing Severus a slip of paper bearing his address before turning back to the selection of dusty, dog-eared books.

The man was repellent, abominable, a blight on wizardkind. Severus hated him almost enough to walk away from his only chance at the previous issue of Potions, which included an important exchange of letters about the new technique for brewing amortentia. Almost, but not quite.

--------------------------------------------------------

Lupin lived in a small, run-down terraced house not unlike Severus' own, except that it was cosier. Lupin waved him into the sitting room, where a shabby sofa and armchairs clustered around a glowing coal fire.

"Earl grey?" Lupin called from the kitchen.

"I do not require tea. The journal will suffice."

"Nonsense," Lupin said, appearing with a teapot, milk jug, two mugs and a plate of shortbread bobbing merrily beside him like a flotilla of ducks. "It's rather good tea, and I made the shortbread myself."

Lupin took a seat on the sofa and Severus lowered himself into the armchair. When he did not offer a hand to accept the mug of tea, Lupin placed it pointedly beside him.

"Now," Lupin said, after swallowing a mouthful of shortbread, "there was an agreement for us to reach. You must know that if you reveal my survival or location, then I will retaliate in kind. You'll also know that werewolves react very unpredictably to potions, so any attempt to dispose of me is liable to create, what was the word… Blowback, I think that's it."

Lupin smiled apologetically and took another bite of shortbread, looking for all the world as if he were making friendly smalltalk instead of discussing blackmail, grisly death and threatening Severus' life. Again.

"A conspiracy of silence, Lupin? Must be like old times," Severus commented acidly.

"Now we have that unpleasantness out of the way," Lupin said mildly, "what brought you out here?"

"That's none of your business."

"I must admit that I was surprised to see you, given the posthumous pardon. An eminent potions master and war hero surely has better prospects than this?"

"I value my privacy," Severus countered, "and I tired of politics a decade ago."

Lupin gave him a piercing look and Severus scowled back.

"I need not ask why you are here. The hills must provide plenty of exercise for the wolf."

"The mountains are lovely and will be good exercise for the man," Lupin corrected. "I think a life in hiding is the best prospect as long as the Registry remains."

"Who cares for the pup?"

"My son lives with his grandmother. I intend to explain things to him when he reaches adulthood provided I… survive to that point."

Lupin looked down, fiddling with his mug. He looked uncomfortable for the first time, and Severus felt a sliver of pity mixed with the over-riding instinct to press his advantage.

"As touching as your tragic life is, I came for the journal."

"Yes," Lupin said, looking up, "yes, of course. Here. I would very much like to hear your thoughts about the contents. Perhaps over tea later this week?"

"I decline."

"Well, think about it. We will both be short of magical company and even you must require conversation occasionally."

"Do not confuse my solitude with loneliness, Lupin," Severus replied scathingly, tucking the journal into his pocket.

"You can distinguish them?" Lupin asked softly, his eyes fixed on the fire. "I've never been able to and I've had solitude enough for a lifetime."

"I hear beggars can't be choosers. You'd know about begging," Severus said cruelly.

He rose and walked to the front door, pausing for a moment to say, "Despite the constraints, I always had a choice."

---------------------------------------------------

To Severus' considerable annoyance, Lupin had polluted the otherwise pristine issue of Potions with a surfeit of yellow Post-It notes. The first said, "Interesting reinterpretation of the use of doxy venom as a catalyst, p.15," and Severus made a noise of disgust. Trust Lupin to make utterly inane observations.

It was even more vexing when Severus found himself using the same yellow Post-Its to locate a crucial passage the following afternoon. After the third time he'd used Lupin's notes as an aide memoir, Severus began to slightly regret his behaviour towards Lupin during their last encounter.

Although Lupin was infuriating and dishonest, not to mention dangerous, he might be useful. While Severus had no intention of putting his opinions about the werewolf to one side, he was calculating enough to exchange a modicum of politeness for guaranteed access to the recent issues of his journal.

This attitude of enlightened self-interest drove Severus reluctantly back to Lupin's doorstep.

"Hello, Severus. Is this a cessation of hostilities?"

"Merely a reciprocal exchange of texts," Severus said stiffly, proffering Lupin's issue of Potions and his own copy of the previous volume. "Your précis of Durancourt's paper was erroneous. I have corrected it."

"Ah, I suspected the opportunity to gloat over my errors would bring you by," Lupin said. "Come in, before all the heat escapes."

Severus registered that he'd been manipulated as he entered into the man's hallway, but he decided that he didn't mind very much in this case.

"What was wrong with my summary?" Lupin said, taking a seat by the fire and indicating that Severus should do the same.

"Everything," Severus replied curtly.

"A bit more specificity would help," Lupin said, with a trace of a smile.

"Your facile comparison between hormesis and homeopathy betrays an utter incomprehension of the principles behind Durancourt's work."

"Thanks for breaking it to me gently," Lupin said dryly. "The similarity I see is that both posit that otherwise harmful substances are beneficial in dilute amounts. You disagree?"

"There is not, nor ever has been, evidence suggesting that homeopathy has any therapeutic effect," Severus retorted.

"But the principle surely remains the same?"

"No, you fool, the alchemic principles are wholly dissimilar. You need to understand the extent of dilution and particulate presence of – give me a quill and some parchment and I'll show you…"

The explanation took quite a long time and several diagrams.

Severus wondered if Lupin was feigning conceptual sloppiness for the sake of extending the conversation, but then he recalled that Lupin had been inept with potions at Hogwarts. Of course, the inability to handle silver spoons and knives must not have helped.

"Good grief, it's late," Lupin said, looking at the dimming sky outside the window. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"No," Severus said, and then grudgingly added, "Thank you."

"Another time perhaps. I expect to see you on Tuesday and we'll see if the truce holds."

"Quite," Severus said, lip curling.

The truce barely held. Both men arrived at opening time and Severus won the initial tussle over the stack of new books thanks to judicious use of his elbows. Even so, Lupin managed to sneak several of the more promising books away while he was distracted by a particularly interesting passage of text.

"That was incredibly juvenile," Severus protested, when he realised.

Lupin smiled at him. "Pot, kettle," he replied, "or perhaps cauldron in your case?"

As November set in, the weather grew cold, wet and windy, which made the makeshift potions lab in Severus' shed increasingly unpleasant. The entire structure rattled during the fiercer gusts of wind and frost covered the windows during the evening. It seemed inevitable that the water pipes would freeze before long, and unless Severus wished to spend all winter applying warming charms, he might have to temporarily abandon his experiments.

As a consequence, Severus found himself spending less time standing over a cauldron and more time in front of Lupin's sitting room fire. It was surprisingly comfortable to lounge there, where the smell of coal smoke reminded him of his childhood and Lupin provided him with as many hot drinks and biscuits as any man could desire.

"The forecast says it will snow tomorrow," Lupin said, crouching in front of the fire as he carefully added more coal.

"As a matter of purely academic interest," Severus asked, "how did you fake your death?"

Lupin replaced the fire screen and straightened before answering.

"I'm afraid it was nothing very interesting," he replied. "I used the Draught of Living Death. The effects of which seem to be temporary for werewolves, or at least in my case."

"Intriguing," Severus said, steepling his fingers and examining Lupin over them. "You discovered this, how?"

"I ingested quite a lot of it during the early 1980s," Lupin said calmly, retaking his seat. "It didn't have the effect I intended initially, but it did help to pass the time."

"That intended effect was suicide, I presume?"

"It was a long time ago and… I think that I just wanted not to be conscious for a while. Particularly during the full moons."

"Hmm. The sedative effect applied to your wolf form?"

"It seemed to. I certainly had no memory of the transformations and awoke without injury."

"I imagine this information would be useful to a number of people, including those without access to Wolfsbane. And those compelled to provide Wolfsbane unnecessarily."

"I imagine," Lupin said, looking tired, "and I suppose you think the less of me for with-holding it. As you can see, my reasons were purely selfish."

"At least you acknowledge that," Severus said coolly, "though I am surprised at your foresight."

"I thought the information could be useful. I didn't anticipate faking my own death – well, not until recently - but I knew that I could drink a potion which forty minutes later would render me apparently dead for nearly two days. It has a surprising number of applications."

Severus watched him thoughtfully, assessing this man who he'd always believed to be weak and something of a fool. In the light of this new information, those assessments might have been too hasty. This revelation implied an incisive intelligence that Severus had not previously observed in Lupin, not to mention a keen self-preservation; it was surprisingly appealing.

"What?" Lupin asked mildly.

"I may have under-estimated you."

"Most people do," Lupin agreed, shifting into a more comfortable pose in his armchair. "But that has its benefits."

"Did you follow me here?" Severus enquired, giving voice to the other question that had been weighing on his mind ever since he first encountered Lupin in the bookshop.

Lupin raised an eyebrow, looking surprisingly composed for a man who was being put on the spot. "What answer are you looking for, Severus? Is my company less welcome if achieved by design or accident? I assure you that I value your companionship."

"Don't placate me."

"Then don't ask questions which imply you need placating."

"Your evasions are frustrating."

"A vice you've never been guilty of, I'm sure," said Lupin calmly.

Severus scowled, but he had no answer to that.

Typically, Gryffindors were easy to read, but Lupin seemed to have layer upon layer of quiet calculation and secrets. Severus couldn't help wondering what was beneath those layers, what else Lupin might reveal in the course of dinners, book discussions or perhaps a glass of port. Despite himself, Severus rather wanted to find out.

------------------------------------------------------------


The snow arrived as predicted, and perhaps its chief disadvantage was Lupin's insistence on dragging Severus for scenic walks. This included the trek up Snowdon, famed for being the highest mountain in England and Wales, although that was damning with faint praise in Severus' opinion.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Lupin asked breathlessly, waving an arm at the panorama of jagged grey peaks and narrow ridges, all of which were tipped with snow.

It was an unforgiving landscape coloured entirely in shades of grey, from the pale mist to the slate quarries. An odd place, Severus thought, to find beauty.

"I expected something more sentimental," he said eventually.

"What, sunsets or serene forests? You only get those in tourist brochures," Lupin replied, sounding amused. "I don't think either of us is that kind of person."

"What kind of person?"

It was hard to see Lupin's expression through the mist, particularly since he was wearing a ludicrous woollen hat with earflaps, but Severus thought he detected a smile.

"The sort who finds beauty in conventional places," Lupin answered, as if it were obvious. "Are you ready to head down? I fancy a cuppa."

An unanticipated consequence of this recent association with Lupin was the change in the behaviour of the locals, who used to switch their conversations from English to Welsh whenever Severus entered a room. The woman in the supermarket hadn't uttered a friendly word before Lupin moved to the area, but his bonhomie and insistence on delivering highly alcoholic Christmas cakes to half the village seemed to effect a complete transformation.

"Morning," she said one day, in place of the usual frosty silence.

Severus stared.

"Snape isn't it?"

"Yes," he said. "Good morning."

It was bizarre.

Despite his best intentions to the contrary, Severus became slowly accustomed to Lupin's company. When the timing of the full moon prevented Lupin from participating in their usual Tuesday morning squabble over books, Severus was unpleasantly conscious of the quiet.

Severus carried several new books and a pot of soup to Lupin's house that afternoon, and when the door went unanswered he let himself in using the spare key under the flowerpot.

Lupin was asleep in bed, looking frail in his tattered pyjamas. Severus paused in the doorway, realising for the first time how thin Lupin was: lean and muscled where other middle-aged men were running to fat. It would be inaccurate to say that Lupin didn't look his age – the grey streaks in his hair made it clear – but he wore the years well. Despite his scars and pallor after the transformation, he was definitely attractive.

Severus reeled at the way his brain was eroticising an aging werewolf and long-time adversary. He stomped downstairs to heat the soup and add some toast before levitating it all back to Lupin's bedroom.

Lupin looked extremely startled when he woke to find Severus in his bedroom, but he seemed grateful for the food. Severus watched him eat a few mouthfuls, hand shaking slightly as he lifted the spoon.

"If you still desire the Wolfsbane," Severus said slowly, "I might be willing to provide it."

"Your lab is freezing and it takes a month," Lupin pointed out.

"Nonetheless."

Lupin tilted his head on one side. "So you do have a soft side? I'd been wondering."

"Certainly not," Severus said, glaring at the carpet. "You should sleep," he instructed sternly. "I'll let myself out."


------------------------------------------------------

Things with Lupin had just reached the point of being comfortable, even pleasant, but it changed subtly after the soup incident.

For a start, innuendo sprung up in their conversation, which caused Lupin much amusement at Severus' expense. Severus loathed being laughed at, particularly by anyone involved in his repeated humiliation at Hogwarts, but he was surprised to find that Lupin's laughter was… not wholly repugnant.

"I'm sure you can find someone in the village who is willing to sweep your chimney," Lupin said. "You're a good looking man for your age, Severus, despite the – 'sooty accumulation' was it?"

Another change was apparent in the physical proximity between them, because Lupin seemed to touch Severus much more frequently than he had previously done.

These weren't significant touches, just the brush of fingers on a teacup, Lupin's hand on his shoulder, a fleeting pressure against his back as they passed in the hall, but Severus' skin tingled from the contact. A natural reaction to occasional stimulus, Severus told himself crossly and tried to forget about it.

Given the double entendres and the way Severus' body responded to Lupin's insignificant gestures, it was foolish of them to get drunk on elf-made wine.

"Damn, we've finished the second bottle," Lupin said, holding the upended bottle over Severus' empty glass. "I've got whisky if you want."

"It may be better if I don't."

"No?" Lupin asked, his eyes sparkling. "Why not? This is the most fun I've had with my clothes on in years. We should get drunk more often."

"What was the most fun without your clothes?" Severus asked smoothly, and immediately regretted it. This was dangerous conversational ground, an area he shouldn't trespass onto. Yet, whether it was advisable to ask or not, Severus found that he very much wanted to hear the answer.

Lupin blushed and shifted in his seat. "This is unusually jovial for you, Severus."

"You're avoiding the question," said Severus, leaning closer.

"I daren't subject myself to your scorn by answering."

"Then I deduce the answer involves your absurdly naïve, pink-haired wife."

Severus caught Lupin's eye and Lupin held his gaze in silence for several seconds.

"No, it wasn't Nymphadora," Lupin said, speaking quite distinctly despite the alcohol. "If you must know, it was Sirius."

Severus felt a surge of fury at the thought of Lupin and Black together, of Lupin moaning beneath Black's arrogant mouth or writhing under his cock. He thought of the months Lupin and Black had spent in Grimmauld Place, of the rapport between them during Order meetings and of Potter's fleetingly revealed memory of receiving a Christmas present from them jointly.

Lupin was… They were… Merlin, he was a fool not to have realised.

"I must go," Severus said abruptly, standing up.

"No!" cried Lupin, jerking to his feet. "It wasn't – I think you've misunderstood me."

Severus made for the door and Lupin lunged for his arm, fingers tight around his wrist.

"Go if you want," Lupin insisted, "but not because of that. Sirius was… It was a brilliant fuck that was a long time in the making. We were never lovers."

There was a horrible pause as Severus tried to make sense of this information.

"I see," Severus said unsteadily. "I should leave."

Lupin's fingers tightened like a vice.

"Not because it was a man?" Lupin asked anxiously. "That needn't imply anything about our friendship. Not that people know anyway –"

Severus spun round.

Lupin was close enough that Severus could feel the heat radiating off him and smell his sharp, distinctly masculine scent. He wondered what Lupin could smell on him: perhaps anger, uncertainty, desire.

"No," Severus answered and was startled by the rasp of his voice. "It's not that."

The tight lines around Lupin's mouth relaxed and Lupin seemed to lean towards him. For a slow, sweet moment Severus expected to be kissed, and then Lupin stepped sharply back, bringing a hand up to rub between his eyes.

"I'm drunk," he said, "and should go to bed before I make a fool of myself."

"Black was detestable and I'm glad he's dead," said Severus, lashing out in disappointment.

Lupin's mouth tightened again. "Good night," he said, keeping his distance as he escorted Severus to the door. Lupin was watching, face unreadable, as Severus turned to walk away.

--------------------------------------------------

Severus woke with a hell of a hangover.

His mood did not improve after swallowing a hangover remedy, since he then recalled the previous night's events. Lupin had come out to him and he had mis-interpreted things in a moment of idiocy. Or had he? It was all so awkward and illogical that reasoned analysis seemed to be of no use.

Severus had never been afraid of poisons because, while he was fully aware that many people might wish to poison him, he took all necessary precautions. Only dilettantes were afraid of toxicity; as an expert, he knew poison was predictable, avoidable, precise.

Emotions were not logical or precise, which was why love potions were so very dangerous. Severus had succumbed to irrational sentimentality once and it was the origin of his greatest errors; he did not intend to repeat the mistake.

Whatever this thing with Lupin might be called, it wasn't love. This was merely something which became more pleasant in larger doses. The inverse of hormesis, perhaps. Yes, his relationship with Lupin was a classic biphasic dose response: toxic in small amounts, but surprisingly palatable if not actually beneficial in larger quantities. One could practically plot a graph.

For a moment Severus was tempted to draw the graph and deliver it to Lupin, but it seemed an inadequate response to, to… What had happened last night? Had Lupin almost kissed him? Had they both simply been drunk? Lupin had certainly confessed to fucking men, so it was possible that he was attracted to Severus. Not probable, of course.

Severus deliberated at length before losing patience with his own indecision, and it was this rather than optimism which drove him to hammer on Lupin's front door.

Lupin answered looking rumpled and said "What? Severus, I –"

"Are you still drunk?" Severus demanded.

"It's not yet lunchtime," Lupin said in confusion, "so, no, I'm not."

"Good." Severus said curtly, pushing Lupin against the doorjamb and kissing him. It wasn't subtle or romantic, but the kiss didn't want for enthusiasm. After a moment's shock, Lupin returned it with vigour.

Severus felt Lupin's hand grip his bicep, while the other slid down to his arse. Then Lupin grasped his arse firmly and pulled Severus closer, causing their cocks to brush together. Severus shifted and Lupin's semi-erect cock slid against the sensitive hollow of his hipbone. It was… very satisfactory indeed, until Lupin pulled away.

"I would continue," Lupin said with a smile, "but it's warmer inside and I'm in the midst of making lunch."

They stumbled inside and when Lupin closed the door, Severus shoved him against it with the intent of ravishing him. After all those covert looks and subtle, electrifying touches, this seemed overdue.

Severus had managed to remove Lupin's shirt and was tracing the white scars on Lupin's chest with his tongue and teeth when some form of horrible alarm went off.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's the oven timer," Lupin said, sliding out from between Severus and the door. "Which means my soufflé is ready."

"Bugger that. Come to bed."

"While I don't object to the concept, it's customary to start a bit slower," Lupin said cheekily, retrieving his shirt from the floor and sliding his arms into the sleeves. He didn't button it and Severus found his eyes drawn to the line of hair which stretched from Lupin's midriff to the waist of his trousers.

Severus followed Lupin the kitchen, where Lupin managed the astonishing feat of looking sexually appealing whilst wearing a pair of flower-patterned oven gloves. As soon as Lupin deposited the soufflé onto the table, Severus trapped him against it, pressing his hips against the tight, lean curve of Lupin's buttocks. Lupin whimpered as Severus ground against him and nipped at the soft skin of his neck.

"No, really," Lupin panted, "we should eat that soufflé or it'll sink."

"Fuck the soufflé."

"Let's fuck after the soufflé," Lupin insisted, "since neither of us will deflate imminently."

"Not without attention," Severus said pointedly, releasing Lupin with reluctance.

"You'll get the attention," Lupin promised, voice low, "if you'll wait fifteen minutes."

"One unreasonable demand after another," Severus griped. "It's a wonder you aren't trying to force me into women's clothing. Again."

"I had legitimate educational reasons," Lupin said, but he had the air of a man who was protesting too much. "Besides, the vulture hat rather suited you. With a little legilimency you could-"

"I have been avoiding that disgusting image for years," Severus said, glaring.

Lupin contrived to look innocent and ate a mouthful of soufflé.

Watching Lupin eat the cheese soufflé was torture. Every gesture seemed designed to entice, from the way Lupin's lips wrapped around the spoon to his lazy murmurs of pleasure and the shift of his bare chest when he breathed. Severus' cock was painfully hard against his trousers.

As soon as Lupin took his last mouthful, Severus grasped his arm and Apparated upstairs. He tore the shirt off Lupin's back, pushed him back on the bed and took the opportunity to press his mouth hotly against that lovely expanse of skin.

Severus had half-expected Lupin to be bestial in some way during sex: growling and dominant, or perhaps unusually submissive towards a mate, but he was wrong. There was nothing less than human about the way Lupin writhed nakedly against him, nothing more than human about the way he licked his lips and slid them over Severus' cock.

"Well, that was unexpected," Lupin said afterwards as he sprawled lazily on the bed, an arm lying across Severus' stomach.

"Oh?"

"I planned to spend the afternoon making a sponge cake for Mrs Culkins, you know," Lupin said in faintly reproving tone. "I hope she's not too disappointed."

"Your cake recipients had best get used to it," Severus said, pulling Lupin closer. It was a purely pragmatic move to keep warm, he told himself firmly, this wasn't cuddling.

Lupin quirked an eyebrow. "You intend to disrupt my baking regularly?"

"I intend to keep myself occupied over the winter," Severus said, fingering Lupin's nipple and watching the way his expression changed and his eyelashes fluttered. Really, Lupin was beautiful like this; Severus couldn't fathom why he hadn't undressed the man years ago.

"But I thought you enjoyed your solitude, Severus?" Lupin said lightly. "And wasn't there something about valuing priv –"

"Quiet, you impertinent werewolf," Severus muttered and kissed him, rolling over to pin Lupin against the bed.

There seemed no point in getting up just yet. Outside it was cold, it would be cold for months and new books were not to be expected for days. In the meantime, they could make their own entertainment.

"If you want to try in front of the fire, I've got a sheepskin rug around somewhere," Lupin suggested, his expression hungry, and for a moment Severus glimpsed a similarity with the wolf.

"If I fuck you on a sheepskin rug, you'll make some terrible joke."

Lupin smiled and stretched, muscles rippling beneath the tracery of scars. "Are you going to let that stop you?"

Severus didn't.