WARNING: This is a slash story, which means it contains male/male erotic content involving consenting adults. If you're not of legal age or are offended by such material, please go find something else to read.

Title: Memories and Migranes
Author: Sekhmet
Email: elbereth_gilthoniel@excite.com
Rating: R
Category: Drama/Angst
Summary: Severus lies in bed after taking his potion, not knowing that a migraine is part of the bargain. He remembers several times that a migraine accompanied a certain time in his life and wonders what is to come. Answer to the three word challenge (SSFF); Resist, Migraine and Gleam submitted by S.
Notes: I would like to thank Courtney for the last minute beta. It was a great help with my horrid grammar.
Disclaimer: I do not own them and am not receiving any profit for the writing of this story. (I am Severus’s secret lover though *ducks flying objects by hiding behind monitor*)

Ominous shadows were cast across the walls of Severus’s chambers by the flickering candles as he lay in bed fighting the onslaught of a migraine that refused to go away. He would have called for help had he

one: not been so far away from other living beings in the castle, and

two: been on more friendly terms with the other living beings had they been closer at hand.

He lay there, thinking he could wait it out. However, the longer he laid there and the longer the migraine was allowed to wend its way through his head, the more he regretted not keeping a potion at hand to rid himself of such things.

This was the exact feeling he always had when Lord…Him, called his followers. Indeed, it was not easy having the Dark Mark ingrained on one’s skin for life, while the one who put it there still lived.

Moaning, Severus turned to his side and promptly wished he hadn’t, as a large wave of nausea hit him full on. Ceasing all movement, he tried to calm his stomach as his head continued to throb like an overlarge mimbulus mimbletonia. Why was this happening? He had definitely NOT bargained for this, when the accident happened. Daring to open his eyes, he saw the goblet that caused this misfortune still sitting on the bedside table. His bleary vision only made out the bare outlines of the goblet, but he could still smell the acrid residue of the thick, glutinous potion inside.

This was certainly not fair. Here he was, the Potions Master, himself, lying on a bed with a migraine and unable to do anything about it. He turned to his back, and another wave of nausea hit like a torrent.

Damn. This was not good at all.

He had felt like this before, however, any other time it happened seemed like it was the first time all over again. The memories rushed back over him like a wave, and he felt even worse.

The Death Eater finished the magical tattoo on Severus’s arm, and the pain from having the ink injected into his skin ceased almost immediately. Rough hands seized him from behind and forced him into a standing position with the other new recruits in a line before the Lord and Master, himself, near the front. All around, there were hooded Death Eaters with white masks, talking in low murmurs, and at the front, Severus and his fellows stood there with trickles of blood running down their left wrists. Nearly all the newly initiated were his age, only sixteen. Tall, gangly boys, slightly smaller, buxom girls; yet all afraid of what was to come.

All talking died instantly when Lord Voldemort turned from the stone table used for ritual and looked upon his faithful. Around him, Severus saw Lord Voldemort’s followers kneel and bow their heads. With uncertainty, he did the same, as did the others to his right and left. He could not see the slight smirk upon his Master’s face as he looked upon the young before him. Or the nasty gleam in his eyes as a new thought came to his head. Severus only knew that he must stay on one knee until told to stand—or be killed. It seemed to Severus that they knelt there for hours, though it was, in truth, only a few minutes, as his new Master gazed upon them with his wicked thoughts.

When Lord Voldemort had his fill of the new Death Eaters, he stood back against the stone table, eyes gleaming in the moonlight and said:

“Death Eaters, arise!”

Severus felt as if his limbs were made of wood. He rose dumbly from the ground and almost stumbled forward onto his face, though he was not the only one to do so. The other new initiates stumbled as well, filled with fear at what was to come next.

However, nothing happened.

They waited anxiously for something, anything to happen. But there was nothing. Severus dared to look up at his Lord to find that he was being looked at, judged, calculated. He felt unnerved by those dark eyes, which would have been kind, look so…cold. The silence roared in Severus’s ears. He could not understand how so many people gathered in one place for so long could be so quiet. Then…

“We have new faces with us, tonight. Look on them well, for tonight is the last night you will see them unmasked in this circle.”

Severus’s breath caught in his throat. He had clean forgotten that he would have to wear a mask to these meetings. His breath caught again as all the others assembled turned to look at the line in front of Lord Voldemort. Aside from school, he had almost never seen so many people in one place before. It seemed another hour before Lord Voldemort ended his display session with the older Death Eaters and the new ones, and Severus could not wait to get back to his dormitory. He knew, though, that this was not over, and most likely would not end for a long time.

He looked up, however, to see that Lord Voldemort had his wand out and a maniacal grin spread across hid face. Severus had learnt to fear this look, as his father wore it as everyday clothing. The people around him shifted slightly, and he did not feel his own feet shifting as well until he nearly ran into his neighbour. Lord Voldemort raised his wand, and said clearly

“All of you who have just joined me, I will warn you now that any faltering in your steps to follow will have you punished.”

Severus did not think it was possible, yet the grin spread further across Voldemort’s face as he pointed his wand at his own left wrist and said

“MORSMERDE!”

Instantly, Severus felt a horrid pounding in his head as he fell to the ground, writhing. He could not feel the two people standing next to him, but he did not care about them now; he only cared that he get the pain away from his head. He lay there for what seemed like hours, not knowing why he was on the ground, only that there was a severe pain behind his eyes. Finally, the pain subsided, and he was able to open his eyes. His jaw dropped as he saw that he lay on the school grounds and not in the circle of Death Eaters. Next to him, he found a long hooded robe and a white mask, like those he had seen around him earlier.

Coming out of his reverie, Severus felt numb in several places from lying on the bed for so long. The candles still flickered, and the shadows still danced on the walls, and the migraine still ravaged his skull like a wild hog rooting for truffles. He wondered if he would ever leave the dungeons-indeed, his bedroom- again, due to this.

It simply was not fair. No one else had to go through this.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. There was someone, yet he did not know for sure if that person went through these same conditions as he was now.

He rolled over again, expecting the nausea, this time, and tried to get the blood moving in his backside. It was tricky business, since moving anything resulted in almost having his insides on the floor or the coverlet before him. He doubted that he could get an erection without nearly vomiting. In fact, the thought of sex in any form with anyone made his insides churn.

The thing that worried him the most, though, was if this is what happened when the potion was injested, he may have to endure this every time he needed to take it. He looked once more at the goblet that still stood on the table and had the urge to knock it from here to the cursed moon. As he turned back to face the wall, his head began to spin as it had before on so many different occasions. Yet, one memory stuck out more prominently in his mind than all the rest, and he was pulled into another reverie.

Severus sat at the small table set up for him in the parlour of the mansion, trying to keep his mind on his studying. If he did not keep to his letters, his governess would not be pleased. His mind was on other things, though, and he watched the door fretfully, waiting for his father to come home with the stink of whiskey on his breath. He did not like his father’s inebriated homecomings. They were loud, and became louder when his mother came into the room as they began to fight. Their shouting matches usually lasted long into the evening, so Severus would take supper with his governess before he went to bed.

He jumped when the door behind him opened and his mother entered, looking pensive. Just as most children, he believed his mother to be the most beautiful woman in the world. It was her side of the family from which he received his pale skin and black hair, though her eyes were icy blue and her nose was pointed rather than hooked.

As she paced the room, her long, black dress fell in velvet folds upon the floor and trailed on the blood-red carpet. A letter was clutched in her hand that conveyed the source of her worry. Seeing her like this, Severus could no longer keep to his letters, and let drop his quill, which splattered ink across the page. The sound made his mother jump slightly and turn to see what the noise was. Seeing her son covered in ink spots and wide-eyed with fear and worry, she could no longer keep this façade up. Smiling, she went over to Severus, took out a white handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress, and began to clean the ink from his face.

Severus could not understand the sudden change that his mother over went. Usually calm and composed until his father came home, his mother was always the person he looked up to for help. Until she had entered the room a few moments ago, he had always known her to be the strongest one in the family. He looked up at her as she cleaned up the ink, and behind the smile, he now saw as a mask, he saw fear and doubt in her eyes, which looked strained and tired.

Looking down again, he saw that she had dropped the letter, which was now wrinkled and worn. He bent to pick it up, but his mother was too quick. Snatching it away from his reach, she stowed it away along with the handkerchief and looked back at him with searching eyes. She brushed a stray hair out of his face, and finally deigning to speak, said:

“Severus-you know your father…well…”

“He’s not coming back, is he?”

“Oh, he’s coming back. It’s just…well, I received word that he became more drunk than usual. And, he got into a fight,”

“Well, what’s new then?”

“Severus! That is not the point; the point is that when your father gets home he is going to be irate. The man he fought insulted him-intentionally. And…you know how he is when he’s at home.”

Severus’s eyes became even more wide with fear. His father did not like him, at all. And his mother was only there because Severus, himself, needed to be protected. He knew very well that the man she fell in love with had died many years previous only to be replaced with the excuse he called a father.

“Severus,” she started, imploringly, “Whatever happens, I want you to be strong. Do you understand? No matter what happens.”

“But mo-“

“Shh! Here he comes!”

As his mother stood in front of him, he could hear the familiar sounds of Dugan Magee Snape arriving home from a day at the pub. As sure as the sun rose every day, the candles in their holders shook, as he stumbled through the hall. Shouts and curses reverberated through all three floors, and the smell of Firewhiskey and pipe smoke crept under each doorway as he passed.

“THYRA!”

Severus had never heard his mother’s name shouted with such rage before. He stepped closer to his mother, who put a would-be comforting hand on his head, and he watched the door with more fear than ever.

“THYRA!”

The sound of his father coming nearer the parlour door sent chills down his spine. He and his mother stepped a little further from the door, and not a moment too soon. The door was thrown violently open, nearly torn off its hinges. Framed in the candlelight of the hallway was none other than Dugan Magee, himself. He would have been nice-looking, had he not let himself go so badly. The man standing in full Snape House regalia could not have looked more out of place than a pauper inside the palace. His mouse-brown hair was stringy and thinning on top. Deep black eyes, now red with drink, stared both groggily and angrily around the room as if uncertain of their surroundings; and sweat ran down the stern, hooked nose from the exertion of coming home.

Finally spotting his wife and son in the corner, a new, even angrier gleam came into his eyes. Severus did not like this look. It seemed evil, even though he knew it was alcohol induced, he could not think of another word to describe it. He could not help but jump when his father shouted.

“THYRA! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING IN HERE? GET OUT NOW, SO I CAN TEACH YOU A LESSON ABOUT HIDING FROM ME.”

Straightening, his mother said defiantly,

“No.”

“WHAT?”

“I said, no. I will not leave from here so you can berate and belittle me. Whatever you have to say can be said here without shouting.”

The gleam in Dugan’s eyes seemed to vanish as he sorted out what his wife had just said. Severus watched his father, his fear growing every second. He did not like the way his father flexed his fingers as if he were about to strangle someone. Or the way he swung his head from side to side as he thought, like a snake obeying his charmer. It seemed that he had decided upon something to say, or rather, shout. The manic light back in his eyes, he stated quite clearly and almost too softly to hear,

“So, you, of all people, would defy me?”

Severus began shaking; he was beyond fear, now. His mother stood tall before him, taller even than her husband. Who, Severus took note, looked on them with utmost contempt and hatred, more than he had ever before.

“You know I would.” replied she in a firm voice. “If it is for the good of our son, then yes, I will.”

“Our son?” he said, still in the dangerously soft voice.

“Yes.” She said as she moved further in front of Severus, as to hide him from Dugan’s vision.

“So. So, our son comes before all else.” He whispered sliding clumsily towards them.

He nearly tripped on the carpet as he came forward, and cursed at an offending chair that happened to be in his way. Luckily, the chair stayed where it was, and he managed to get around it. Standing before them he stared at them both, his face flushed an ugly fuchsia.

“DOES THAT MAKE SENSE? DOES THE PUNY, LITTLE EXCUSE OF A SON COME BEFORE THE HEAD OF THE FAMILY?”

Severus was unable to resist any longer. He crawled back into the corner by the table and brought his knees up to his chest. A sharp pain suddenly came into his head. He put his face into his hands and felt tears on his face. The pain split his head in two as his father shouted more. He looked up to find his mother, the one person he could count on to be strong in the world, cowering before his father. His face fell as he gave in to the tears.

Pulling out of his reverie yet again, he found himself covered in tears and still in agony from his current migraine. Yes, he did get migraines in other situations, such as that time when his father came home…and…well… This one, however, was the migraine to beat all migraines. Even his poor excuse for a father had never inflicted one upon him so horrid as the one with which he was currently plagued.

He turned over, again forgetting about the nausea, and silently berated himself for it. A candle’s flame flickered before his vision, and he thought that he might die because that one candle flame was as big and bright as the sun. Reaching for his wand he snuffed all the candles but two, at the back of the room, leaving the room in semi-darkness.

No-that had been a lie. His father had given him quite the headache once. The night he ki…before he had to come…to…

Severus finished packing his trunk and turned to let Dorian, his raven, in his cage. It would be his first year of school at Hogwarts, and he could not wait to get out of the house. The day’s shopping in Diagon Alley had been wonderful, a whole day alone with his mother, out of the house. They had gone to Ollivander’s and bought a wand. To him, it was the finest wand in the shop. Mahogany, dragon heartstring, twelve inches. They had also gone to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions to get his school robes, Flourish and Blotts for his books, and all manner of other shops. He had been in them repeatedly throughout the years, but now he was going to school they seemed different, festive.

They were nearly finished when his mother stopped him in front of the Magical Menagerie. He had wondered what she was doing when she knelt down and looked into his eyes. At eleven, he still thought her the most beautiful woman in the world even though her eyes were more careworn than before, and premature grey hairs strayed from around her hairline. Her ice blue eyes were still vivid, and he thought he saw them sparkle a little, as he had not seen them do in years. Smiling she said,

“You’ll be off to school now. I’ll not see you for a whole year.”

“No, Mother, you’ll see me at Christmas-“

She shook her head, and Severus thought he saw tears in her eyes.

“No. No-your father wants you to stay at school for the holidays. I am afraid he has become more maniacal now.”

“But moth-“

“No, Severus, listen to me. You do not have to be completely cut off from me. That is why I want you to have an owl.” She smiled wryly at his reaction. He had wanted an owl for years, but was unable to have one for obvious reasons.

“Yes, I know you have wanted an owl for a long time. This is your chance to pick one out. I want to write to you while you are at school and see your owl send a reply.”

They walked out of the Magical Menagerie ten minutes later not carrying an owl, but a large, shiny raven. He was rather proud of the fact that he would not be like everyone else who had great-horned owls, barn owls, screech owls ecc. The raven cawed happily, as if glad to be out of the noise of the Menagerie. Severus beamed and looked up at his mother to see what she thought. She smiled at him, glad he had a choice of something for once in his life.

The walk to the Portkey that would take them home became sombre at the thought of what awaited them at the house. Severus had gone upstairs to pack the things that did not need washing after letting Dorian out for some air. After his packing was complete and Dorian back in his cage, he came back downstairs to find his mother sitting in the parlour, her face tearstained.

She looked up as he walked in, her eyes red and puffy from crying. The reason of her tears was clutched in her hand, a very tearstained and bedraggled letter, like the one so many years before when his father came home and found them in the parlour. Severus walked around to sit next to her on the loveseat and put an arm around her. Strangely, he did not want to know what the letter said, although she did not try to hide it from him. In fact, she handed the parchment to him idly, took out a much-used handkerchief, and dabbed her eyes.

He stared at the parchment, not fully comprehending what his eyes told him were on it. His mother blew her nose, unable to cry any further, and stared out the parlour window at the cloudless sky. Through the smudges of his mother’s tears, Severus managed to read:

MADAM SNAPE,

YOU ARE…DA…ER…Y…SELF AND SEVE…UT TO S…E PLACE DUGAN ANGRY …INEBRIATED!

WILLIAM ABERFORTH

THE BROKEN WAND

The importance of this message did not fully reach him, and he set the letter down, trying to sort out what Will was trying to convey that had his mother so upset. He felt her shake a little under his arm, which was still around her. Turning to look, he saw that she was holding back more tears. There was something important going on, yet he did not know what it was. His mother’s tears were a sure sign of that. Wrapping both arms around her, he held her close trying to sort out what was really happening. He knew his father hated him beyond all else and wanted him gone. School would see to that, yet this letter said that he-they were in danger and to get out.

He felt her pull away and he looked at her in concern. She was drying her eyes on her sleeve, as her handkerchief was too wet to do anything effective. She looked at him; the pupils of her eyes dilated, and stroked his face. He was surprised at how cold her hands were though he did not pull away.

“Severus, I love you.” She was barely able to whisper from her earlier tears.

“I know mother, and I love you. Why must we leave?”

Her eyes darkened through their red sheen, and she let her hand drop to her lap in a fist. She closed her eyes trying to sort out her words carefully as Severus watched her.

“Your father has not liked the thought of sending you to school for some time. He thinks it is too expensive, takes money out of his drinking fund, which was partly why he wanted you to stay at Hogwarts for holidays.” She paused for breath that almost did not come.

Severus was beginning to understand what the situation was entailing. Moreover, he suddenly knew why Will was concerned for them.

“That is why your father is coming home in this state again. He believes that you are not fit to study magic, drink notwithstanding.” She finished, as a single tear fell down her check, cutting a path through the ones previously made.

An anger that he had never felt before surged through Severus, and he felt his face heat. This was not fair, not at all. Why did his mother have to be the most wonderful woman in the world, yet his father the utmost scum? Standing abruptly, his mother went to the roll-top desk and opened it. He watched as she rifled through some things, his anger seething and boiling, yet finally settling as a lump in his stomach. She seemed to find what she wanted, as she closed the desk and came over to him. Holding out her hand without a word, she indicated that he should follow. They walked out of the parlour and through the house. She led him through what seemed like endless sets of dusty stairways and passages until they came to the back of the grounds and she opened a doorway for him, saying “Go, Severus, go. You will be safe. I will handle your father, just go.”

He shook his head fervently, not wanting his mother to be left alone with that slime. He refused to move. The small silence between them was awful, almost as if they had stopped understanding each other. Severus could see tears in her eyes again as she knelt down and held out what she had taken from the desk. Her wedding ring gleamed in what little light streamed through the door at the back of the house. He had never noticed that it did not reside on her finger before now. Rather, the platinum snake with emerald eyes sat upon a long silver chain that sifted and coiled in her hand. He stared at it not wanting to believe what his mother was trying to get him to do.

“Take it.” She said, offering him the chain. “Just take it, it is yours now. Go. GO!” She continued, pushing the chain into his hand and him out the door.

He looked back as he ran only once when he heard his father’s voice, loud and stilted with drink shout “THYRA! THYRA! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?”

Severus crept back into the house, though, because he had forgotten his things from upstairs. They had been so keen on getting him to safety that everything else had been left out. His father’s shouts could be heard echoing off the walls, and dust fell from every available surface because of it. Severus cringed as he came to the parlour and his mother’s form came hurdling out of it and into the wall. Following behind her, his father came yelling,

“YOU BITCH! THOUGHT YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH IT DID YOU? THOUGHT YOU WERE SMARTER THAN ME?”

“No-no,”

“THOUGHT YOU COULD GET THE BOY OUT WITHOUT MY KNOWING? THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE? I’LL TEACH YOU WHAT HAPPENS WHEN SOME STUPID BITCH THINKS LIKE THAT!”

Severus braced himself for the usual blow that his father gave to his mother, but it never came. What his father did, Severus never could have prepared himself for if he tried. Severus watched as Dugan steadied himself on his feet and wiped the spittle from his face. This certainly did not look like a man who would be teaching any kind of lesson soon. He rummaged inside his robes and presently he took out his wand, backwards, which he fixed easily. He pointed it almost lazily at his wife and roared,

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

“NOOOOOO!”

Severus woke from his memory to find himself shouting, very loudly at that. The pain from seeing his mother’s death was almost too much to bear, even after nearly twenty-two years. Although all those years had been spent in brooding over how he could have spent his revenge on his father better. Certainly, being put in Slytherin had been the first step, but there were other things he could have done differently.

It had been his original intent to kill the man who had killed his mother, although he had seen early on that it would not do to be like his father in that respect. He had instead taken his mother’s path, the path of passive resistance.

He still had his mother’s wedding ring and he wore it around his neck, unbeknownst to others. He pulled it out from beneath his shirt, the white gold and emeralds catching up all light that the room contained. A single facet in one emerald seemed to gleam brighter than the rest, and it pierced his vision, making the migraine worse than it had been, reminding him, yet again, of his position and the accident. However, that was Remus’s fault. He could blame this one on Remus. Couldn’t he? As he put the ring away, his hand brushed the mark on his neck. The memory of the previous month’s endeavour told him he was just as much at fault for the outcome.

Severus strode through the torch-lit corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry doling out detentions to students who were out of bed, snogging in the corridors. It gave him great pleasure to do so, as he was allowed to be out of bed at such a late hour doing that same thing and they were not. (Moreover, he thought wryly, I can do it in the hallway if I so wished.) He continued along the corridor, stopping only to send some out-of-bounds first years off to their dormitories with nightmares and seven days of detentions to match. None of them saw the eyes gleaming in the shadows by the statue of the One-Eyed Witch, waiting and calculating each move the Potions Master made as he told the first years off for their behaviour.

Severus was too busy making sure that the two Gryffindor first years kept to their route to notice the hand making its way around his mouth. He was surprised, needless to say, as he was pulled back into a strong grip and held there. A long finger went up to the lips of the person indicating silence, like he was one to do otherwise, and he was released.

“Wha-?” Was the first thing to escape his lips, as his first glimpse of his attacker was none other than Remus Lupin, of whom he would never have thought this possible.

Remus put his long, slender finger to his lips again, indicating silence, smiling secretively and beckoned most welcomingly to follow. He had most recently found himself lost in the confines of the werewolf’s eyes at mealtimes, and the staff was beginning to talk. Dumbledore especially, with his schemes and slander, was starting to get annoying. He followed, resolutely, not knowing his newfound interest’s own scheme; however, he knew it was a scheme, as Remus’s eyes had the sparkle that those of his old schoolfellow had usually contained. It was amazing what the eyes could do to a person’s appearance. Looking haggard and careworn before his time, his eyes had looked haunted, but now, to look at him…he looked sixteen, again.

Remus stopped after what seemed like an hour of walking, backtracking, and lusty glances. The heavy mahogany door seemed to lead to his rooms in the north tower below the Astronomy classroom. (which was not a ‘room’ at all) He turned and looked at Severus, who shivered, though not with cold. The man had grown weary of their little game at mealtimes, and he had taken matters into his own hands. However, he did not realise how serious the situation was, since it was the time of the full moon. Severus, himself, hoped whatever deities watched over him that Remus had taken the Wolfsbane potion that he had brought earlier.

“I know what you’re thinking Severus,” Remus quipped sweetly as he came closer, running one long finger down the other man’s cheek.

‘”Damn, I wish I didn’t wear so many layers!”’ The explicative flowing like mead from that sweet tongue sent another shiver down Severus’s spine.

“Oh well, they’ll be fun to take off-with my teeth.”

Remus came closer still, his musky scent making Severus feel light-headed. He could see the shorter man’s sinewy form, every move it made as it circled him, calculating. Remus’s shirt was slightly undone, showing his chest covered in a sheen of sweat that he wanted to lick off. He licked his lips, the temptation too great. Remus’s eyes gleamed in the torchlight, wolfish even in human form.

“Do it.”

“What?”

“Do it, Severus. You know you want to.”

He did not need telling a third time. His permission granted, he gathered Remus up in his arms and licked the sweat from his chest in long sinuous swipes of his tongue. The tangy taste of Remus’s sweat and the hard feel of Remus’s body against his own were enough to get him aroused; and, as Remus was beginning to undress him in the corridor, he felt he had nothing to lose.

Remus continued to undress, and kiss him, until he was in nothing but trousers and an undershirt. The other man’s clever fingers and mouth were driving him mad. They stood against the wall in the hallway in total mouth-to-mouth combat for at least a quarter of an hour. The hallway became uncomfortable, however, and Remus pulled him along in a lip-lock to the door again and opened it.

The first thing that Severus noticed as Remus let him loose, was the room bathed in moonlight, and the second thing he noticed (too late) was the smoking goblet on the small table in the middle of the room. The change came quickly, and terribly. It was something that Severus had never thought he would see again, and he was too petrified to move. Remus was in no right mind to do anything rational, and upon seeing Severus staring horrified at him, went for his neck.

The memory of the pain woke him from the memory, and the first thing he noticed that was different about the room other than his hand clutching the bite mark on his neck, was Remus standing by the doorway. He felt neither anger nor elation upon seeing his lover there. The previous month’s accident was still presenting confusion over whether he should feel anything. The migraine still raged on, though not as badly now he had something or someone rather, to concentrate on. The residue from the Wolfsbane still smoked in his periphery.

“Good evening, Remus. What brings you?”

“Your health of course,” he said, coming closer. His haggard appearance had returned since their night of foreplay had ended in disaster.

“The first change is always the hardest you know.” He finished, smiling wryly.

“Well, you WOULD know. Darling…” Severus said looking away in mild sarcasm.

Remus looked hurt. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looked down concentrating on his hands.

“Now, that’s not fair. I know I should not have bit you-but,”

“But you did.”

“I know I did Severus! That’s the point! We were aroused, we were in the middle of making love and then I walked into the moonlight and changed…”

“What are you trying to say?” Severus asked suspiciously in the short pause that ensued.

“What I’m saying, Sev is that it’s a mating mechanism that wild werewolves use. I-I think it was triggered on accident last month when we went into my rooms.” He finished quietly.

“So, I’m your mate now?”

“Yes. I’ll understand though if you won’t have me…we never really cultivated our relationship. I just couldn’t stand the fact that we just kept staring moony-eyed at each other. OH! Bad pun!” He finished, reprimanding himself for the unintended joke.

Severus chuckled as he sat up. Always like Remus to come up with the bad ones without knowing it. He mulled this new information around a bit. He was Remus Lupin’s mate. That had a certain appeal to it. If only this had happened before his father had died. This would have been sweet revenge. Oh well, would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. There was only now to think about, and now he WOULD think of. He hoped that these goddamned migraines were not a part of the monthly change.

“Remus?”

“Yes?”

“Are migraines a part of this bargain? Because if they are I want out. This damned migraine has been ravaging my head for over an hour and I want a cure!”

“No, only the first time you take Wolfsbane. It’s an unwanted side effect that gets lighter every time you take it afterwards. What? Can’t you hack it?” He answered chuckling.

“Hey you had better watch it wolf-man, you’ve got another one on your heels.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“You bet your furry tail it is!”

“Then you have to catch me first!”

Dumbledore looked out his bedroom window and smiled, because in the moonlight a black wolf chased a grey wolf into the Forbidden Forest and he could almost hear their laughter.

Note: Yes, I know that Voldemort's spell is spelled with an 'e'. It is a variation on the spell used to send the Dark Mark into the sky. Instead of saying 'Morsmorde' to send the Mark into the sky, Voldemort uses, 'Morsmerde'. (At least in my story he does.)