4: At Last – Kisses For Dessert

4: At Last – Kisses For Dessert

Although it had begun to rain, Hogwarts looked beautiful under grey clouds. To Snape, the rain didn't matter, as he had honestly believed he wouldn't see the school ever again. But here he was, on a quite normal evening in the middle of August, with Hermione to his left and Lupin to his right and Potter, Harry bloody Potter, in front of him, leading the way.

As if he didn't know the way by himself. Damn boy, Snape thought, thunderstruck at the fact that there was something like fondness for the black-haired young man lacing the mental scold. When had he become soft, mellow? When had he realised that he was able to express amusement and humour, that he treasured friendship? Had someone hexed or maybe poisoned him?

Ah, yes. A damn giant snake. Had he known that the beast's bite would change him so entirely, he would have stayed away from her.

Then Snape saw the damage the battle had caused and froze. Like a statue, he stood in front of the huge front gates; one was dangling loosely off its hinges, the other one was burned up to the middle. There were holes in the stone walls to the left and to the right, big holes, wide enough to let a small troll squeeze through. The school's roof was more or less gone. The windows were broken, all of them, as far as he could see. The grass was dry and shrivelled, most trees were dead, and the lake shone in an unhealthy grey.

Everywhere, people worked to repair the damage. Students and teachers, even children too young to be students and adults he had never seen in his life. Fast as ants, they undid what the war had caused, in a never ending line working at his school.

Snape felt goosebumps running down his spine, a most unpleasant experience, but one he couldn't stop. Whilst he had been close to death and then far too gone in the embrace of depression, those people had worked. Here. At Hogwarts.

Unbelievable. Embarrassing. He should have been here, should have...

"You look even paler than a ghost, Severus," Remus said quietly, half whispering the words in the Potions master's ear. "What's wrong?"

Damn the man, Snape thought. He knows me too well. Forcing himself to shrug abrasively, he said, "I'm fine," and then felt himself drawn forward, closer to the huge gates. It was as if the school called for him, now that he was finally here.

He placed his hands to the walls, and then he leaned his forehead to the stones, allowing his fingers to whisper across the burned door, the broken hinges. He breathed in the smell of his school, a school he had considered home since he had been eleven years old. Felt the lives and deaths pulsating in the ancient masonry, heard the screams and sensed the fear. Hogwarts had been there during the battle. Most of it had happened within those walls. Blood had soiled the floors; lives had been taken, cruel and forceful. It was an overwhelming, although not an unexpected, experience – after all, Severus Snape was Headmaster of the school and was now recognised and welcomed with two months worth of memories.

Snape, feeling dizzy and disoriented, was grateful when Remus stepped up next to him, placing a supporting hand on his shoulder. "We are constantly repairing Hogwarts," he said. "A lot of the initial damage has been fixed. And you couldn't be here. You were injured, closer to death than to life. Pull yourself together, man, or do you want to be seen crying like a little girl?"

Snape ripped his head up, broke the contact with the walls and tried to stab the werewolf with a well-aimed glare. "I never cry," he hissed.

"Unless you are fever-ridden and scared to death that Voldemort's coming to get you," Remus replied dryly, patted his friend once on the back and stepped through the broken gates, leaving Snape behind.

That was until Hermione took his hand, pulling him along.

Truly, the Potions master thought with desperation, friends are rude and extortionate. I need a plan to get rid of them, or they will bring me to my grave.

******************

The first one not only to see but to recognise them was Lee Jordan. Covered in dust, he nodded a 'hello' as he levitated dozens of bricks ahead of him. He was already round the next corner when a huge crash announced that something had struck Jordan as odd.

He peeked round the corner. "Aren't you dead, Professor?" he asked, then slapped his forehead. "Stupid. Obviously, you're not dead. Pity, though. It was a nice funeral. Have a great day and try not to destroy things. The dungeons are freshly painted!" Having said that, he vanished again.

Hermione giggled; Remus grinned. Snape didn't say a thing.

Then they bumped into Hagrid, and things got complicated because the half-giant simply didn't believe his own eyes. Hermione tried to hold him back, but failed. Remus wisely hid behind a statue, Harry was just able to jump aside at the last moment. "Professor!" Hagrid roared, and half the school heard him. "Professor Snape! Come on 'ere, let's give yer a hug!"

"No!" Snape yelped, but too late. Gigantic arms lifted him up, shook him like a rag doll, and it was even possible that a few wet smacks landed on his face.

Disgusting thought. "Hagrid!" Snape shouted right into the Gamekeeper's ear as he struggled to get loose. "You will put me down onto my feet this instant, or I will fire you!"

"Course, sir," Hagrid beamed, obviously not surprised to see a man whose funeral he had attended only a few weeks back. "Sorry, sir. Didn't mean to crush yer. Sir. Did you just say you'd fire me?"

"Possibly," Snape hissed, rearranging his clothes. He wore just jeans and a shirt, but still, a certain dignity needed to be kept.

Hagrid performed a little dance, looking quite dangerous by doing so, as anyone too close would have been crushed under his feet. "That means y'er Headmaster!" the half-giant cheered. "Need to tell Fang. And everyone else. Ron! Luna! Everyone – hear the news? Snape's back! Erm – see you later, Professor. Harry, Hermione, Remus – got to go!" And off he ran towards the Forbidden Forest.

"You won't really fire him, will you?" Harry asked, suspicion in his voice.

Snape just looked at him. Harry had at least the courtesy to blush.

***************

Getting through the school wasn't as easy as Snape had hoped or expected. He was recognised, naturally, but the fact that no one tried to kill him seemed odd. Even knowing Remus's memories, Snape considered it unnatural that people actually seemed to ... like him.

But they did. Some hugged him, some cheered, some gaped at him with open mouths, but no one drew a wand and no one began to mutter hexes at his sight. His back was clapped more often than he could count and at one point, he leaned closer to Remus, whispering, "Sorry, wolf, but I'm going to have to take up your offer of another massage when we get back. My shoulders feel completely butchered."

"No problem," Remus replied quietly and then they finally reached the statue that had once stood next to the Headmaster's office. It was lying face down on the ground and was broken into three pieces. Therefore, no one guarded the office. Unobserved, they went upstairs, Snape first. He was now eager to see Minerva; she of all people would behave normally and not like a madwoman.

He didn't knock on the door; after all, it was his office. Naturally, it opened, but the office was empty apart from the portraits. Most frames were empty; in some, their owners were asleep. Two former Headmasters were deeply engaged in a conversation, and only one acknowledged the visitors.

"My dear boy! You cannot imagine how delighted I am to see you safe and sound!"

Snape couldn't help having a small grin appear on his face. That he had survived, despite Dumbledore's prediction, was surprisingly satisfying. "Albus," he greeted the portrait with a nod. "You don't look that stunned to see me."

Dumbledore twinkled frantically. "I knew you weren't dead, dear boy. But that you are so well... Splendid. Truly wonderful."

Harry grabbed Snape's shoulder and pushed him out of the way, approaching the portrait of Albus Dumbledore with a thunderous expression on his usually so friendly face. Snape, caught off-guard by the movement and by the boldness of the boy to touch him so carelessly, just stepped aside.

"What the hell do you mean, you knew Snape wasn't dead?" Harry hissed. "I spend days, weeks even, in here, waiting for his blasted portrait to turn up and you knew he wasn't dead? That there wouldn't be a portrait?"

Dumbledore took off his glasses and polished them with a corner of his midnight blue robes. He looked slightly embarrassed. "Weeell . . .," he began, "I did tell you not to wait for Severus's portrait, Harry."

"I thought you meant... that he wouldn't get one, with him being a traitor and all!"

Mildly, Dumbledore shook his head. "That was always the mistake you made, Harry. Making unfounded guesses. Of course Severus will get a portrait when he's dead. But I couldn't tell you he was alive, could I? I didn't know where he was, and with whom, or under which circumstances. He could have been in a coma. Or hiding amongst Muggles. Perhaps he had decided to become a winegrower on one of those lovely little islands in the Mediterranean Sea."

Snape snorted. "Highly unlikely. Leave it be, Potter. It makes no sense to be angry with a portrait. I've tried it. It is not satisfying. Albus, could you tell us if Minerva is here?"

"Oh, yes. She's in the bedroom... Ah, no. Here she is. Hello, Minerva. Look who's come for dinner." Cheerfully, Hogwarts' former Headmaster waved at Minerva McGonagall.

She looked stern, tired, and had a few more grey hairs in her bun than the last time Snape had seen her. In her hand she held her wand, and she was pointing it straight at his chest.

It was an unpleasant feeling, indeed.

"Severus."

He bowed his head, making sure she could see his empty hands. She looked as if she would hex him at any moment.

Out of the corners of his eyes he became aware of Remus and Hermione edging a little closer to him as if they were trying to protect him without making their intention too obvious. Now when did that happen – those two coming to my rescue? he wondered.

"Minerva," Snape said. "It is good to see you. I am sorry that..."

"So you failed to die, then?" Not only stern. Cross, angry, even.

Snape wished he knew how he had offended her. Apart from not having died, of course. "Draco Malfoy found me. I was in his house for a few weeks until I had recovered."

The older witch took a step towards him, but she didn't lower her wand even half an inch. "You look well," she stated. "Not as if you got up from your sickbed a day or two ago."

Snape felt a strange urge to apologise for nearly everything he had ever done in his life. "Actually, I am..." he began. "That is, until a few weeks ago I was..." he continued.

"You are stammering. Have you been in a coma?" McGonagall asked.

"No." Short, clear answers seemed easiest.

"Have you been held captive? Were you mute? Didn't you remember your name?"

Snape shook his head. "Nothing like that. I was in Draco Malfoy's house, I was in a bad condition, and the boy thought it best to hide me. I believed the Dark Lord was still alive until Lupin told me otherwise. That was about two months ago."

Minerva McGonagall came closer until her wand touched his throat. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You could have told me eight weeks ago that you were alive? EIGHT WEEKS?"

Snape considered lying, but Remus was faster. "In theory. But you must understand – the circumstances, his injuries, his bad condition... Poppy advised us to take it slowly."

Wrong choice of words, obviously. McGonagall threw her wand into the next corner, a most scary sight as it exploded with tiny little sparks, sharp like razorblades. "Poppy knew. Remus and Miss Granger knew. Draco knew and Potter as well, quite obviously. And I heard Hagrid shout your name a while ago. Saw him through the window, hugging everyone and everything on the way down to his hut. Thank you for telling me last, Severus. And find yourself another Transfiguration teacher. I quit." With that, she spun and left the office, slamming the door shut behind her.

Dumbstruck, Snape stared at the closed door, feeling more helpless than he had in a very long time. He never had owned a good hand with people. He offended them, annoyed them, sneered at them or simply spied on them. Being responsible for the well-being of people was new to him, and he didn't have a clue what to do here. "When did life become so damn complicated?" he murmured to no one in particular.

"The moment you failed to die, apparently, old friend," Lupin said. "Now go after her before she hexes someone."

Dumbledore chuckled in his frame. "You better get used to it, dear Severus. Handling your colleagues will become a full-time job, believe me. And my Minerva is particularly hard to handle."

"You don't say," Snape snapped, and went after the old witch.

*******************

He caught her on the stairs next to the fallen gargoyle. She stared at it with unblinking eyes, and Snape felt quite uneasy in her company. He tried a hesitant "I'm sorry, Minerva," not expecting a reaction to his words.

He was wrong. She turned to him, her lips pursed. Looking him up and down, slowly and calculatingly.

He felt his face flush – this was far too close to how she had looked at him whilst he had been a schoolboy. "I refuse..."

"You didn't trust me, then," she interrupted him. "You ran this school for a year, keeping your secret. You helped Harry, you protected the pupils as much as possible with the Carrows around, but you didn't trust me. That hurts. And that is the reason why I will leave."

"Merlin's bloody beard, Minerva!" he shouted. "I had no choice, and you know it. All of this was Albus's plan, and it was not my call to tell it to anyone. Don't you think I would have liked to share the burden? I feared either Alecto or Amycus would, sooner or later, kill a student. But I couldn't tell you. I didn't know the full plan, or I wouldn't have stepped open eyed into the Dark Lord's trap for me. Knowing even parts of it would have endangered you. I didn't tell you, not because I didn't trust you but to protect you."

Damn this, he thought, exasperated. I shouldn't shout and she shouldn't look so bloody hurt.

"I refuse to accept your resignation. I need you here. I am in no condition to take over full duties, and you had better not argue. I handled Fudge and Umbridge. Today, I was attacked by blasted Potter, Lupin insists on calling me a friend, Hermione doesn't want to come back here at all, and why the hell didn't I kill myself some weeks back?" Yes, he definitely sounded annoyed, and slightly hysteric on top of it. Great.

McGonagall, ever in perfect control of any situation, patted him gently on the shoulder. "I didn't know you were still in such a bad state, Severus," she said, a lot friendlier than she had sounded only moments ago. "I should have seen... Is anyone looking after you?"

"Too many people, apparently," Snape grumbled, took Minerva's arm and walked along the outer wall with her. "Actually, I could do with your advice on how to handle all these... people in my life!"

Minerva cast him a smile. Apparently, losing control, freaking out for a moment or two, had been the perfect thing to do. Her ruffled feathers were smoothed again, and she nodded understandingly. "It must be tantalising be in the centre of attention all of a sudden. And now everyone who's at Hogwarts knows you are alive. Tomorrow, you will be on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Did you say you had talked to Fudge?"

"Scared the life out of him. And Dolores agreed to leave the country for the next fifty-five years."

McGonagall looked at him suspiciously. "'Agreed'? That doesn't sound like her."

Snape smirked and repaired a broken window with a quirk of his eyebrow. "Swore an Unbreakable Vow. I threatened to perform the Binding Spell on her. She wasn't willing to risk her sanity to become Headmistress."

"Bitch," Minerva muttered, and then they were standing in front of the Great Hall where the whole school was waiting for the Headmaster to take his place at the High Table.

In the crowd, Snape could see Hermione, Lupin, even Potter and Draco. "I already have eaten," he said weakly. "I really would prefer a quiet read in my rooms, Minerva."

"Not tonight, Headmaster," Minerva said, sternly again, and pushed him in.

******************

It was a surprisingly complicated task to eat whilst several dozen pairs of eyes were watching, as Snape found out during dinner. He sat at the High Table, with Lupin to his left and Minerva to his right, with Sybil, Hagrid, Flitwick, and everyone else who had survived the war. Poppy was at the infirmary, but would join them later. A few ghosts were missing, but all in all, there were many students around who stared, whispered, gossiped, and were quite obviously not stunned into speechlessness by the Potions master's sudden reappearance.

"I will have the dessert in my quarters," Snape murmured under his breath. "I can't stand this constant attention any longer."

Lupin chuckled. "Get used to it. You came back from the dead. Nearly everybody attended your funeral. They just want to make sure you don't vanish again as soon as they look away."

"I'm thinking about it, wolf," Snape grumbled. "Being a Spanish winegrower is becoming more and more appealing by the minute."

Dinner was finally over, and as no one had a real reason to linger, students and parents and teachers were leaving, searching for some last things to repair for the day. "You'll get used to their stares," the werewolf continued. "And they will get used to the fact that even a giant snake can't kill you. So what was that about dessert?"

Snape leaned back in his chair and gave this some serious thinking. Dinner had been nice, in a way, but now he craved some privacy. And, shocking as it was, the company of his few friends. "Dessert indeed, wolf," he teased. "Cherries and whipped cream. In case you don't have anything better to do, come along. I hear my quarters down in the dungeons are renovated and freshly painted."

"May I..." three different voices said simultaneously, then Hermione laughed. "We would like to come along," she continued. "Draco is lost without your dessert, and Harry is unwilling to part yet. Luckily, Ron fell asleep at the table or you would have to invite him as well."

"I do hope I may join you as well, Severus." In Professor McGonagall's voice was a small threat.

Obediently, Snape bowed his head with a sigh. "Dessert in the dungeons," he said. "Get along, I'll go to the kitchen and get cherries and cream. Lupin, you know the password; just try to leave me a small sip from my firewhiskey."

*****************

The house-elves were close to fainting when a human showed up in the kitchen, demanding to have a look into the larder. "Master should not be here!" they chirped and tried to block his way, but Snape was not in the mood to be pushed out of his property. Hogwarts was his, and that included the kitchen as well. Ignoring the elves, he took what he needed and then sat at one of the big tables where Hogwarts' helpers usually prepared meals and snacks and whatever else students and teachers demanded.

It had been a long day, he decided. First Potter, accusing him of being an impostor. Then Jordan, Hagrid, and Minerva. Not to forget Albus, and the rest of the students. Everyone had been delighted to see him.

A terrifying experience. Snape wasn't used to friendliness. He could cope with hate, loathing, suspicious looks and angry attacks. He knew what to do if someone accused him of lying, stealing, cheating, or murder. He knew with certainty that he could rule this school with a cruel hand – he had done so in the past year, after Albus's death and on behalf of the Dark Lord. Students had been injured during this year, expelled, mistreated. He hadn't hindered the Carrows in doing what they wanted to do; he had only forbidden the killing of the ones in his care.

And he had hated this past year. It was partly because of those memories that he hadn't come here earlier, although he hadn't told anyone. He had been scared; scared that Hogwarts would reject him, and that his crimes from the past were too big to be forgiven. He had feared that, when he touched the ancient stones again, he would sense coldness instead of welcome, disgust instead of warmth.

Absently, Snape dipped a cherry into the cream he had been whipping for the past five minutes. "Those times are over," he told a house-elf who stood only inches away from him on the table, looking annoyed in a quite friendly, challenging way. "The Dark Lord is dead, Hogwarts did welcome me, and I am, surprisingly enough, still alive despite Minerva's anger at me. I should go and have dessert with them."

"Master should leave kitchen," the house-elf said, nodding so eagerly that his big ears flopped. "Master should not come back here ever again."

"Don't count on it," Snape said with an amused grin, took the cherries and the bowl with cream and went to see if there was some space in his private rooms, with all those people waiting for him. The house-elf, though, firmly slammed shut the kitchen door behind him.

Strange, Snape thought, that I don't mind them being here. Lupin mocking me, Hermione spending more or less day and night at Spinner's End. Shouldn't I push them away?

He definitely should. But equally definitely he didn't want to push them away. A few words, well placed and poignant, would have done the trick. He could hurt with words as surely as he could with his wand. Instead, he liked the werewolf's company to an extent that flabbergasted him, and he felt extremely content in the young woman's company.

Slowly, Snape wandered towards his dungeons. The school was quiet although it was not yet ten at night. The days were long and hard; no one felt like staying up longer than necessary with all the work still to be done. Even the ghosts rested, it seemed.

When Snape came closer to his rooms, he saw a small patch of light in the darkish corridor – someone had left the door open, and he could hear voices and laughter.

He smiled, looking forward to this evening amongst friends. He could hear Lupin telling them about Fudge, and now Draco cast in, explaining why he had been looking for the Potions master after the battle. Minerva asked the occasional question, and even Albus seemed to have found a way down here, into the new Headmaster's private quarters. Presumably, someone had been mad enough to hang up a portrait down here.

"So why do these rooms look as if Snape might come back any moment?" Harry's voice, and Snape, standing outside his door in the darkness, had to admit it was a reasonable question. He had expected his furniture to have been chucked out, his books given to the library, his private effects burned.

Inside, Dumbledore chuckled, and Minerva snorted with dismay. "Albus made it clear that it wouldn't be a good idea to empty Severus's rooms," she said. "I decided to listen to him. Good thing, I would say."

"Where is he, anyway?" Harry again.

Goodness, if I am not careful, Potter will start to actually like me, Snape realised with a shudder. He edged a bit closer to the open door, fully aware of the fact that he was spying on the few friends he had. But he couldn't help it. Standing outside in the dark, listening to what happened inside, was second nature to him.

Hermione's voice. Soft and gentle, warm and... no. That was not simple friendliness he heard in her words. That was more. Affection, maybe?

"He really likes to cook, Harry, and I guess he's been whipping the cream for half an hour now, just to have a bit time to himself. It's been a long and overwhelming day. How would you feel if your life had changed so dramatically?"

Affection, definitely, and... something else? Something deeper?

He heard Remus moving, possibly searching for his stock of firewhiskey. Snape smirked as he knew the werewolf wouldn't find the hidden crate, the one that contained the really good stuff. "I definitely hope he continues to loosen up. In the past weeks, it was a pleasure to keep him company. He's got a really dry humour; I like that in a man."

Draco chuckled. "Well, yes, Lupin. That you like him is quite obvious. I bet you wouldn't mind bedding him either, would you?"

"Mr Malfoy!" Minerva exclaimed, sounding less shocked than he would have expected. "You are talking about the Headmaster here, don't you forget that."

"I must admit, I can't help but wonder if his kisses taste as sweet as his desserts," the werewolf cast in cheerfully. Snape felt a blush creep in his cheeks, and it deepened profoundly when Hermione added, "I'm with you there, Remus. There's a lot I wonder about – don't you look at me like I'm mad, Harry – and that's the reason why I will go to Beauxbatons for my last year. I really wish I could find a way to get him out of his shirt."

"A worthy sight," Remus added thoughtfully.

A moment of silence indicated that Snape wasn't the only one who was taken by surprise by both statements. Actually, the Potions master could barely stop his mouth from sagging open. He hadn't quite expected such clear words.

Harry coughed. "Erm... you sure, Hermione?" he managed after a little while and several helpful slaps on his back. "I mean – Beauxbatons is nice and all, but to give up Hogwarts for the greasy... Sorry. For him? You really think he'd be worth it?"

Snape, now standing as close as possible, strained his ears to get the answer, but Poppy interrupted. "You know, he could be standing outside, listening to this conversation for the last fifteen minutes," she said pleasantly, and Snape heard her taking a sip from her glass. Maybe firewhiskey, but more likely she had summoned a bottle of his white wine.

"Goodness!" Lupin sounded distressed at the thought, which made Snape smirk. He stepped back into the darkness and a few steps upstairs. Whistling a tuneless little melody, he came downstairs again and pushed the doors to his quarters open. "Sorry for the delay," he said, putting both bowls on a table. "The house-elves tried to help, which is always quite an annoying thing to happen. I see you made yourselves comfortable – I hope dessert is satisfying." Taking a cherry, he dipped it into the cream and ate it.

Harry, lounging on his sofa, grinned and got up. Poppy, indeed holding a slender wineglass in her hand, raised an eyebrow at him, clearly trying to figure out if he really had come straight from the kitchen. Draco and Minerva, having occupied a chair each, summoned the cherries towards the little table that stood between them.

Hermione sat on his workbench, legs dangling, hands pressed to the darkened surface. She had no eyes for dessert. Only for him.

And Lupin... Well, the werewolf leaned next to the door, stared at his friend, and smiled knowingly.

Damn, Snape thought, I forgot about his perfect nose. He probably knows that I listened. Smelled me or heard me breathing. Damn, damn, damn!

But as that couldn't be helped, he just shrugged his shoulders and joined Minerva who had finally decided that one cherry, toppled with a small heap of cream, wouldn't kill her instantly. After the first try, she even took a second one, and then Hermione came over, squeezing in between him and Draco, changing the topic from dessert to lunch, dinner, and breakfast.

*******************

It was close to midnight when Minerva stifled a yawn. "I'm awfully sorry, Severus, but I have to take my leave. I expect you tomorrow morning; we need to discuss further actions, the schedule for next term, and Hagrid has asked if he can have a dragon."

"Wonderful prospects," Snape snorted. "I will be in your office at nine. Is that sufficient for you?"

"Yes. And it's your office now. Good night, Severus."

Harry and Draco got up as well, taking along Poppy who had fallen asleep on the couch. "Too much wine," Harry stated. Together, the young men steered the sleepy matron through the door and out into the corridor. "You coming, Hermione?"

"Of course," she answered and got up. Slowly and reluctantly, she was followed by Lupin. Snape waited until Draco, Harry, and the matron were outside, then he slammed the door shut right in front of Hermione and Lupin. Harry's demanding knock at the other side of the door could be heard and Draco's voice to leave them alone. A finger snap, and the voices were gone as well, muffled by a charm. Snape had locked himself in together with a former student and a man who once had been his childhood enemy.

"Severus," Hermione said, uncertainty in her voice and sharing a glance with Remus, who looked equally surprised. "Look, if we offended you in any way by using your wine without asking..."

"Or your port. Or the firewhiskey," Remus added.

"... then we are sorry. Really."

Snape tipped his head, looking at the young woman thoughtfully. "Hermione. Do you really intend to go to Beauxbatons?"

"My bags are already packed," she answered.

"And you want to pleasure me out of my shirt? Is that correct?" he asked casually. "A few months ago, I would have considered you too young. Now that I know you, and if it is really what you want, we might find a solution for that... hmmm... request."

She blushed, but not as deeply as he had expected. Instead, she raised her chin and refused to look embarrassed. "Indeed I would, Severus. You know I do, so I won't deny the fact that I am interested. Very much interested, that is."

Snape nodded, then turned to the werewolf. "And you?"

"And I – what, Severus?" Remus asked. "Am I interested? Would I like to bed you? As you listened to our conversation, you know that both answers are 'yes'."

"I knew it," Snape said. He stepped closer to the werewolf, thus pinning him to the wall. "You heard me?"

"Smelled the cream and the cherries," Remus said, voice hoarse, and then Snape leaned in and kissed him.

"Do they...?" Hermione asked after a considerable length of time, and Snape broke the kiss, his cheeks flushed and having left the werewolf's hair ruffled from greedy hands.

"Hmmm?" Remus seemed absent-minded.

"His kisses. Do they taste as sweet as his desserts?" Hermione sounded genuinely interested, and Remus grinned widely, pulling her closer so the three of them stood in a tight embrace.

"You need to find out for yourself, dear," he said, and then Severus Snape pulled werewolf and woman towards his bedroom. After all I have gone through, I deserve a bit of fun, he thought. Or even a little more than that.