Restraint

Written for the Lupin/Snape Lurve Community, initially inspired by an ICQ discussion with Lutra...

Remus idly watched Snape as the Potions Master strode from the Great Hall. Well, strictly speaking he watched Snape's back, what he could see of it behind the billowing robes... so annoying, that voluminous black fabric....
       Snape was so... so... upright. Even when imitating a bat, as some of the more forward of his students had been known to mutter. That back never seemed to bend. Straight, stiff, unbending...
       Remus smiled gently to himself. What would it take to make Snape unbend, he wondered. What could make the dark man's back arch with pleasure. Make him whimper with desire...
       Remus caught himself with a silent snarl, quelling the wolf. Of all the things – people – to catch Moony's attention, Snape was a definite no-no. Hands off. Simply begging for trouble.
       Try telling that to the wolf lurking just below the skin... it was too close to full moon. Yes, that's all. Just that. And Moony was getting restless.
       Moony wanted a beta to his alpha. And he wanted to prove his dominance, especially to the one human who'd always resisted his own human's attempts to be friendly, to repair the damage done so long ago... oh, the feelings were all so confused, half human, half lupine, wholly conflicting.
       Remus respected Snape, respected his courage, his knowledge and abilities, his sheer audacity – and his ability to continue with his duties at the school despite the stress under which he must be working. Slave of two masters...
       He caught himself again. Snape was hardly a slave. Clever, vicious in word and occasionally deed, hard-working and hard-driving, yes, but slave? Never.
       Which is why it would be so exhilarating to force him to submit.
       Remus metaphorically slapped the wolf, drained the last of his coffee, and rose to begin the day's work.

As usual, Snape ate sparingly and left the Hall early while the rest of the school was still wolfing down dinner. Unconsciously Remus watched him, eyes drawn irresistibly to that stiff, perfectly straight back... why was he suddenly obsessed with Snape's back, of all things?
       Oh. Probably because Moony wanted to see it bend before him, wanted to see the dark man on all fours, head bowed, submissive and accepting...
       Remus' thoughts skidded to a halt. No. No. You will NOT think along those lines. Your presence here is precarious enough as it is, you will not risk exposure. Not to mention that the wizarding world's population is small: it is every witch and wizard's duty to produce heirs, this kind of attraction is at best most definitely frowned upon...
       You would wish your taint on your cubs?
       No one knows if it carries over from the parent.
       You want to risk it?
       Remus swallowed and shook his head minutely. No. The last thing he would ever want was to inflict his own curse on a child. He simply wouldn't take that risk.
       But that ruled out women as partners. And of the men who knew what he was, James and Peter were dead, Sirius was in Azkaban, and Dumbledore – well, the idea was simply ludicrous.
       Which left Snape. Who hated him.
       Who cares what he thinks? Take him.
       Remus closed his eyes, hands fisted below the table. Moony was intolerable at this time of the month, and with the wolf's sudden interest in Snape, Remus would have to be even more guarded than usual to make sure nothing – untoward happened in the next week.
       After that, after the coming change – perhaps he could speak to the Headmaster. Dumbledore was wise and serene, and had seen almost everything in the long years of his life. If there was a spell, or a charm, or a potion that could avert disaster, no doubt he would know of it.

Restraint pt 2

He ached. Every naked inch of him.
       And he was so cold...
       Shivering uncontrollably, he managed to raise his head from the pillow of frost-rimed fallen leaves and peer blurrily around him. Trees, widely-spaced and ancient, dim edge-of-winter early morning sunlight filtering through the high branches, ridges of massive roots surrounding him... the Forbidden Forest. Yes, Moony would have headed here. He might have headed here anyway, even without Remus' somewhat shaky control.
       As his eyesight cleared and sharpened, Remus saw the robes lying crumpled a short distance away, and dragged himself within reach, biting his lip to stifle the whimpers trying to break loose from his throat. Pulling the rough material around him, he pushed himself up to sit resting against a root, trying to catch his breath. His lungs felt as though someone had broken all his ribs and woven them into a cage too small for his organs...
       You'd have thought, after all these years, that he'd be used to the pain, wouldn't you? Used to the agony of having his body reshaped at the most fundamental level, ripped apart and reformed bone by bone, sinew by sinew twice in the space of hours, twelve times a year. Perhaps these last few months, using Snape's wolfsbane potion, had lulled him into a false sense of comfort, dulled the memory of pain...
       Snape. The man was the reason he was here, naked in the forest. Or rather, it was Moony's obsession with the Potions Master. It had been Moony who'd insisted on going outside, into the moonlight, insisted on running free this past night, insisted on Remus indulging the wild side of his nature. The wolf needed to re-establish his dominance somehow, and if Remus wouldn't let him take Snape, then he'd take Remus, bend his human side to his will.
       And Remus hadn't been able to resist. Caught up in the confusion of their joint thoughts and Moony's blatant desires, he'd given in, allowed the wolf its freedom. Even knowing it was going to hurt.
       He shivered. It wasn't getting any warmer, and the school would be waking soon. He had to get back. Hauling himself more or less upright, he hunched into the threadbare robes, distantly grateful that he'd been just aware enough to leave them ready for later before enduring the change, and limped and stumbled barefoot back to the castle.

Madam Pomfrey was not amused.
       "What is the point of having the potion brewed for you if you aren't going to use it? It's not as though I don't have enough to do, dealing with the students..."
       "Poppy, I..."
       "And you needn't think you're taking classes today, nor tomorrow!" She finished bandaging a particularly nasty gash down Remus' leg. "I want you here, where I can keep an eye on you. Make sure you don't do anything ridiculous."
       "But..."
       "Professor Snape will just have to take your classes again."
       Remus sighed in defeat. There really was no use arguing with Poppy Pomfrey, the woman was a force of nature.
       He dreaded what Snape would say, though.

Snape was not amused either. In fact, Remus really thought, for a moment, that the man was about to hex him where he lay.
       "Do you think," Snape hissed, eyes narrowed and sparking with cold fury, "that I have the time or inclination to cover up for your idiotic mistakes?"
       Remus settled back against the pillows, lowering his eyes, trying to keep Moony under control. His heightened olfactory abilities worked against him: Snape smelt of darkness and the herbs he'd been preparing, a hint of copper and something much more intimate, the scent of the man himself... it was distracting.
       "I'm sorry, Severus. It won't happen again."
       "That's it? No excuses, no self-justification? I'm disappointed. I expected more of you."
       Remus shook his head, willing the man to go. Inside him Moony howled and paced, desperate to break out. Snape glared down at the figure in the bed.
       "Two days. I will expect you back the day after tomorrow."
       "Thank you, Severus."
       "And drink the damned potion!"
       Remus watched as the Potions Master whirled and strode from the infirmary, robes swirling, his back as straight as ever – then reached resignedly for the goblet on the bedside table. Loathsome stuff, but if it allowed him to maintain control, keep his mental faculties working... He drained the goblet as quickly as he could, shuddering at the taste, then lay back with his eyes closed as Poppy changed his dressings. The latest wounds were healing quickly, with a little magical help: he'd be fine to take classes again the day after tomorrow.
       Poppy made very sure not the least hint of moonlight could reach him that night.

"Are you feeling better now, Professor Lupin?" Hermione regarded him with a level gaze that he found faintly unnerving, as though the girl could see Moony behind his eyes. Although he wouldn't be surprised if she had deduced his secret: she was frighteningly intelligent, and extremely acute at times. He smiled.
       "Yes, thank you, Hermione."
       "Good. I'm... glad... you're back."
       And that was as far as she would go to let him know how much she'd hated having Snape teach in his place. Well, he could understand that. He nodded and turned to the rest of the class to begin today's lesson.

Dinner was a trial, again. Moony was tired after his 'run', and Remus felt drained, but there was still a simmering undercurrent in their mind. Remus was intensely aware of Snape sitting further down the table, sharp-eyed gaze raking the happily-eating students as if searching for improprieties: it took longer for Remus' enhanced sense of smell to return to human normal when Moony was worked up about something. And Moony was definitely worked up about Snape, and pushing against Remus' somewhat tenuous hold over the wolf after the exigencies of the full-moon nights. In fact – Remus lowered his head to try to hide the flush of embarrassment heating his face – Moony's fixation was having a distinctly uncomfortable physical reaction in his human half's body.
       And his jacket wasn't quite long enough to cover it.
       He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Damn wolf.
       Do something about it then!
       Shut up.
       Moony grinned in his mind.

Fortunately Snape left the Hall early again, and Remus was able, by dint of much cold coffee – which he loathed – and thinking determinedly of prunes in their own juice, oysters sprinkled with sugar, and doughnuts filled with mustard, to regain control of himself. He briefly considered having that little talk with Dumbledore, but right now he couldn't trust himself – or Moony – not to make an idiot of himself. And while he'd had to swallow his pride over and over again simply to survive over the last few decades, here, at the school, he was unwilling to risk the self-respect he had attained. He'd wait, see if he could deal with it himself before asking for help. Things should settle down, Moony retreat into somnolence again, until the next full moon, and that should give him time to find some resolution to the problem.
In the meantime, he could deal with the effects of the wolf's obsession in the usual way. He was, after all, intimately acquainted with his own right hand.

Except – Moony would not settle...

Remus woke gasping from the most wildly erotic dream he'd ever had, so intense he could swear he could still smell Severus, still feel the heat of his body, the sting of teeth against his shoulder, along his jaw, the grip of long strong fingers... he wrinkled his nose at the sensation of wet stickiness at his groin, then groaned and covered his eyes with his arm.
       Moony barked a laugh, taunting him.
       He's not going to go away...
       Then maybe I should.
       But he knew he couldn't. Even if he truly wanted to, he had nowhere to go. Moony grinned at him.
       We want him.
       He doesn't want us.
       Doesn't matter what he wants... The wolf's tone changed, became sly. We could always make him one with us...
       It took a moment for that to sink in, then Remus pulled himself raggedly upright, horrified.
       "NO! Never, ever think that."
       The wolf growled softly.
       Would solve the problem. He'd have no choice but to be ours, then.
       And for just a second or two Remus considered it, longingly, yearningly... Then he came back to reality and snarled at the wolf.
       He would never accept it. Never.
       He'd have no choice.
       Maybe not, at full moon. What about the rest of the time? How he feels now would be as nothing compared to the hatred he'd feel towards me afterwards.
       Moony gave the lupine equivalent of a shrug.
       His problem.
       No it is not his problem, you damned... animal! It would be my problem. And hence also your problem.
       Moony was silent, but Remus knew the wolf wouldn't accept the argument. Couldn't accept it. His perceptions were quite different to a human's, more immediate. Moony didn’t think any further ahead than his next meal, generally speaking, which made this obsession all the more alarming. He was worrying it like a favourite bone, and Remus knew, with a sinking heart, he wasn't going to give up.
       He had to keep control. Gritting his teeth he decided to eat in his room from now on, and have one of the house elves collect the wolfsbane from Snape every day. He couldn't avoid the Potions Master altogether, but he could at least minimise his contact with temptation while he worked out what to do.

Restraint part 3

In theory, it had been a good idea. In practise...

Half-moon, and Remus slumped in a battered but comfortable armchair, gazing into the fire, eyelids heavy. Several hours past midnight, and he was exhausted, but afraid to sleep. Afraid of the dreams that would inevitably come.
       Avoiding Snape had angered Moony, made him unpredictable. And the wolf had had his revenge. At first the dreams had had a wickedly delicious flavour to them, the slide of skin against sweat-damp skin, the sting of Severus' nails buried in his shoulders, the heat of his body, the rigid strength of his cock against Remus' own... But that hadn't been enough for Moony. The dream had turned vicious, blood-spattered as the wolf pinned the struggling, swearing Potions Master to the torn and dishevelled bedding, forcing himself into the lean body with hard, dry thrusts, stifling Snape's hoarse, bitten back cries of pain with his lips, teeth trapping the man's tongue, taste of blood in his mouth – such a sweetly violent invasion... The first time Remus had come, hard, his back arching off the bed, waking with a long moan then curling around himself, wide-eyed and appalled and sickened, aware of Moony's triumphant howl at the back of his mind.
       See...?
       And Remus did. Below the surface horror, the sense of violation - his own by Moony and, empathically, Snape's by himself – was a fierce and aggressive joy. And desire. And need – the need to physically re-enact the dream.
       The wolf inside wanted Snape. He wouldn't be satisfied until that need was fulfilled.
       Remus was afraid to sleep.

The students were giving him odd glances. Really, he couldn't blame them. He was only resting when he simply couldn't stay awake any longer, dropping into a dead sleep like a stone into a deep, dark well and awakening a few hours later, twitchy, his eyes gritty and throat dry. Moony's nigh-continuous growling didn't help. And his work was suffering. More than once he'd found himself starting to teach the first years fourth year subjects, and vice versa. He needed to pull himself together. A few proper nights' sleep would help too.
He made his way to the infirmary before dinner. Poppy listened to his request, eyed him narrowly, then measured out a vial of Dreamless Sleep without comment. He smiled gratefully, returning to his room, stripping and gulping down the potion. He could miss dinner this once: a decent sleep would be far more expedient right now.

Cold...
       He frowned without opening his eyes. Why was he cold? He'd curled up in bed last night before swallowing the sweet liquid, pulled the quilt over him...
       He was lying on something very hard and cold. Suddenly fully awake, he pushed himself half-upright, gazing around himself in horror.
       He was lying on the floor of his room, by the door. Which was unlocked, the key carelessly dropped several feet away.
       His groin was sticky, and his fingers were bruised. There was blood under his fingernails.
       Fighting panic, struggling to breathe, he gripped his hair to the point of pain, leaning back against the door as he tried desperately to remember what had happened last night.
       He couldn't remember. Everything was a blank between drinking the potion and waking up a minute ago.
       What have you done?
       Moony grinned his wolfish grin.
       Only what you wanted to do.
       No...
       Remus swallowed hard, thoughts tumbling over each other for a moment until he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and forced himself to think a little more rationally.
       There was no noise, no disturbance outside his room. That could simply mean that it was too early for anyone to have found the evidence of what he'd done. If anything. Because, he was slowly realising, he seemed to be essentially unhurt, and if he'd... attacked Snape, it was extremely unlikely he'd have been able to walk away unscathed, even with Moony in control. Severus wouldn't take any such offence lying down...
       Remus stifled a nervous giggle. This was no time for bad puns.
       Alternatively, the silence could mean that nothing had happened, except maybe that he'd sleepwalked under Moony's control and got no further than the door. But in that case, where had the blood come from?
       He shivered and pushed himself to his feet, heading for the bathroom. Since he now was awake, and feeling marginally better mentally and considerably rested physically after a full night's sleep, he may as well get ready for the day, make his way to the Great Hall, and face whatever might come his way.

Snape was already eating breakfast, and did nothing more than nod at Remus, the usual faint sneer on his face. Reassured, Remus took his seat and poured a cup of tea, helped himself to toast and marmalade, then tried desperately to think away the erection that was making its presence known under cover of the table.
       Damn Moony! Couldn't the wolf even let him eat breakfast in peace?
       He's there, three seats away from you... Go to him...
       In the Great Hall. In front of the school. Oh yes, an excellent idea.
       Sarcasm was lost on the wolf. Moony leered.
       You want him.
       No, I don't.
       But that was no longer wholly true. Moony's desires were blending with his own, wearing down any defences he might have had. His respect for Snape was changing, turning to something darker and less wholesome. The wolf lusted, and now so did the man.
       He had to resist. He couldn't give in. His livelihood, his job, possibly even his life would be in jeopardy if he gave in. And while he and Snape were hardly friends, they were at least on speaking terms, blunt and often hostile as they were. He didn't want that to change.
       He'd just have to keep taking the wolfsbane, persuade Poppy to let him have some more Dreamless Sleep, and have someone lock his door from the outside, that should put paid to any of Moony's ideas of taking over while Remus was asleep.

He could never remember, afterwards, what Snape had said or done to spark the incident. It was probably just another maliciously snarky remark, but it came at the end of several tense, dreamless nights and miserable morning wakenings on the floor by the door, which now bore long scratches on its wood from Remus' now-ragged nails. And full moon was eight days away, and Moony was not so much twitchy as bouncing off the walls. However it happened, one moment Remus was passing Snape in the corridor, the next he was shoving the startled Potions Master against the wall, one hand gripping the black robes at his neck, the other clenched tightly around Snape's wrist, preventing the man from reaching for his wand. Teeth bared, growling under his breath, Remus brought his face in nose to nose with Snape, so close he could see the hair-fine faint dark-golden striations in the other man's dark eyes.
       "Fuck you Snape."
       The Potions Master's body was rigid, pushing at Remus, trying to regain some space between them, but Moony was adding his own strength to his human's, not allowing Snape to move. For long moments they stared at each other, Remus snarling silently, Snape growing pale under the werewolf's glare – then the Potion Master swallowed and grated out,
       "Well, what a spectacle this is for the students."
       Remus blinked, then realised that yes, they were in a well-used corridor and yes, the children would be flooding out of their classrooms any moment and yes, they would very likely be horrified to see the two teachers locked together thus. Growling, Remus dragged Snape along the wall, opening the first door he came to and shoving the Potions Master inside.
       "Better?"
       A moment's silence as Snape's eyes adjusted to the dim light, then –
       "A cupboard. How... appropriate."
       It was, metaphorically speaking, the last straw. Moony went for Snape's throat.

It was perhaps just as well that the cupboard was small, the walls heavy and sound-muting, and that the buzz and chatter of the students as they filed between classes drowned out the faint sounds of struggle from behind the thick oak door, because the two men in the cupboard were wholly focussed on each other. It would have been a source of some pride to Remus – had he been fully in control – that Snape was too occupied trying to defend himself to attempt to reach for his wand. And Remus had the upper hand – or paw, rather: Snape wasn't used to hand-to-hand combat, whereas claw and fang was all Moony knew. To his credit the Potions Master fought as well as he could, and Remus would feel the bruises for days to come, but he was outclassed by the wolf. The blood under Remus' nails was Snape's.
       One final slash down the Potion Master's bared chest, crimson running wetly down the sallow skin, and Snape was slammed back against the wall, Remus pressed tightly to his body. Tightly enough for Snape to feel the hard, hot erection at his groin, rubbing against Snape's own limp flesh. His eyes wide with fear, Snape held the wolf's gaze for a moment – then turned his head to the side, lowering his face, and Moony howled his triumph as the body against his went slack and began to tremble, the faintest unwilling tremors shivering the lean frame.
       MINE!
       He nosed at Snape's neck, breathing in the scent of the man as his hips ground against the Potion Master's groin. Pain, fear, anger, humiliation – and something else, something that had Remus blinking in surprise. He paused for a second, Moony momentarily quashed, as he tried to identify it. And Snape shoved at him, teeth gritted and eyes narrowed, rapidly engorging cock pressing against Remus' own as he growled.
       "I will never forgive you for this."
       Moony bit his neck, drawing blood, as they came together.

"Get off me."
       Remus forced his eyes open and pushed himself up and back, away from the body he was slumped against, and regarded the face before him with considerable apprehension. Snape's expression was pure loathing.
       "Severus, I..."
       "Don't speak to me."
       "I'm sorry."
       "And that makes it all right, does it?"
       "No, of course not. I lost control. Moony..."
       "Don't blame the animal. It is not full moon and you are not under its influence."
       If only that were true. Remus stepped backwards and slid down the wall into a crouch, gazing miserably up at the Potions Master. Snape was a mess, clothes ripped, his face and body bruised, bleeding and shaking with a deep, cold fury.
       "I..."
       "Be silent!" Snape tried to pull the remains of his robe over his chest, wincing as torn flesh complained. "Don't speak to me, don't touch me, don't even look at me." He touched his bleeding neck gingerly, flinching at the pain, and glared down at Remus. "And you will say nothing of this to anyone."
       "Of course, but..."
       "I said, don't speak to me!"
       Remus nodded dumbly, gaze lowered, disorientated and lost. Moony had deserted him, somnolent and sated for the moment: he had to face Snape's ire alone.
       Perhaps fortunately, the Potions Master appeared to be so disgusted he simply wanted to get out of Remus' presence as quickly as possible. Snape turned towards the door and opened it a crack, peering out then hissing back over his shoulder,
       "You will wait five minutes before leaving."
       He slipped out of the cupboard, and the last Remus saw of him 'til the evening meal was the lean body slinking back towards his rooms, hugging the shadows as closely as he could.

Remus sat for a minute or two, eyes closed and head resting back against the wall, feeling numb. That had to be the most stupidly reckless thing he'd ever done in his life. He'd wrecked any chance of ever achieving any kind of relationship with Severus and endangered his own life here, and for what? So Moony could prove he was the alpha, was in control?
... but had he? Remus frowned. At the end there Severus had been a partner in the action – a reluctant one, yes, but nevertheless taking an active part. Remus laid a hand over the cooling dampness at his groin, stroking very lightly, the sensation making him shiver. Over and above the distaste he felt for his behaviour now that Moony wasn't awake to urge him on, there had been a wonderful exhilaration in the realisation that Severus had been aroused, responsive... At the end, Severus had tilted his head as though welcoming the wolf.
Had he meant what he'd said, or was he simply denying his own reaction, his own dark need?

Remus smiled grimly. Full moon wasn't far away. No doubt Moony could suggest a way to find out...