Chapter Fifteen - Where Rest Can Never Dwell, Hope Never Comes (Part 2)

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to JKR and/or Daniel Knauf. I do not profit from writing this story.

Author's Notes: Story beta'ed by the incredibly brilliant melusin.

-This is the second half of Chapter Fifteen. Please be certain you have read the previous chapter before continuing.

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Out of habit, the moment Hermione's foot touched the first step to the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, she took off at a quick sprint. Her speed never slowed. If anything, she tried to push her body faster.

She relished the startled looks on students' faces when they spied the Head Girl thundering into the top of the tower: their dilated pupils, their scramble to spring apart while attempting to play down the sight of hands fishing under blouses and trouser waistbands.

I didn't know voyeurism was a specialty of yours, Hermione?

Hermione softly laughed to herself with a shake of her head. Voyeurism wasn't, but discipline and enforcement of rules was.

Today the tower was empty.

Thank gods. As much as Hermione enjoyed the authority her status allowed her, she delighted in the peace of solitude even more. Panting from her brisk run up the stairs, Hermione swallowed the view the height offered. A thick coating of dark clouds partially covered the full moon. She longed for clearer skies so she would be able to connect the various stars that formed her favorite constellations.

Hermione calmly leaned against one of the raised stone pillars on the edge of a glassless archway. The faint perspiration along her hairline cooled against the piercing wind.

Eyes closed, she hummed at the feel of a strong hand burying itself in her hair. She tilted her head to the side as her soft curls were moved off her shoulder.

"Severus," she whispered, voice aching in relief.

"I was hoping you knew it was me." His thunderous tones vibrated against her temple. "Otherwise, your contented moan would have raised many questions."

"Don't."

"Don't what?" he asked slowly.

"Don't try to ruin the moment. I smelled you even before you touched me."

He stayed silent, lowering his lips upon her neck.

"Where were you?" she asked delicately, not wanting to sound overbearing. "I haven't seen you for days."

"Really?" he asked sarcastically. "I do believe you have been Confunded, Miss Granger, because I know very well you saw me last night." He harshly whispered toward the end of his sentence, willing her to experience the shameless memory with the use of his seductive voice.

Yes, they had seen each other. But in the ache of one another's absence, they had expressed themselves more through actions than words. How could she have possibly forgotten? Last night had been so pleasing and sexually frustrating all in one go ... which hadn't been released until after a long soak in the tub. The experienced touches of his mouth and hands had haunted her thoughts all day.

"You know what I mean," she replied with a smile. "You had come and gone last night much quicker than I would have liked. I didn't get a chance to talk to you all day, either. So... where were you?"

"Working," he answered dismissively.

"Working... for whom?" She hated to admit it, but Hermione was morbidly curious as to what his assignment had been. Had he spent the past few days helping, or hurting, someone?

Snape slowly extracted himself away from her. "Do you really want to know?" he asked irritably.

"Of course," she demanded, spinning around. "Otherwise, why would I ask?" The resolve in her expression released as she gazed up at his pale face. Maintaining eye contact, she reached toward him, closing her soft hands around his cheekbones.

"Have you eaten?" she asked. "You look terrible."

Snape jerked his face away. "Not everyone can be blessed with ravishing good looks," he spat acidly.

Hermione shushed him by pressing a single finger against his mouth. She focused on his lips before slowly raising her chin. She kissed him, forcing him to soften his stubborn demeanor by gliding her soft tongue between his lips, delicately probing, then flicking against his tongue.

Severus immediately took command of the kiss. Nipping against the inside flesh of her lower lip, Snape growled under his breath. One arm wrapped around her neck as the other palmed her waist, slipping through the opening in her robes. When Hermione grasped the voluminous robes of his lower back, Snape pushed against her, urging her flat against the stone wall.

Her body completely yielded to his every touch, and it drove him mad. He suckled against her neck, his hands closing underneath her bum, eliciting an aroused gasp.

"I-I missed you," she breathed. "How did you know to find me here?"

"You've acquired a routine in your patrols," he deeply chuckled against her throat. Catching himself, Severus pulled away, shrewdly looking at her. "Which you must put an end to immediately. Mix up your destinations. Never walk the same corridor, at the same time, every night."

Hermione leaned forward to kiss his neck. Snape felt her smile against his skin. He pulled himself away, arching an eyebrow questioningly.

"What is so humorous?"

"You didn't hold true to your word back at number twelve. It looks like I will benefit from your tutelage, after all."

His lips twitched, fighting against a smirk. When he lowered himself toward her, Hermione raised her palm against his chest.

"Severus..."

He knew that tone. She wanted to ask a question.

"What?" he asked impatiently. Talking was the last thing he desired to do.

"I had a meeting with Dumbledore the other day about..." She swallowed. "... about Sirius."

One lone eyebrow arched. She had his full attention.

"In the course of our discussion, he asked me if anyone had attempted to steal Sirius' pocket watch."

Snape pulled away from her. "What did you tell him?"

Hermione tilted her head to the side, eyeing him inquisitively. The apprehension in his voice spoke volumes. "I told him, 'no'." The last word exited her mouth in the high note of a question.

He smirked in satisfaction, and she didn't like it.

"You know what ... or whom Dumbledore is attempting to protect Sirius against, don't you?"

"Who said Black needs protection from anything?" he growled.

Dumbledore had said it to him. She had heard them through the Headmaster's door when she shouldn't have been listening. Hermione guiltily turned her head away.

"Hermione... Did Black tell you something?" His chin tilted down, lowering his body toward her so he could get a better look at her face.

"Just a hunch!" Hermione threw her hands up in defense. "What I've gathered here and there." This conversation wasn't going at all how she wanted. She didn't want to argue with him, but he seemed hell-bent on sourness whenever the discussion turned to Sirius. She tiredly messaged her temples. "There's so much I want to talk to you about, but I don't want to waste our time together."

But Snape wasn't finished. Folding his arms across his chest, he forced his authority on her with the use of his stance and tone. "Why were you discussing Black with the Headmaster? What business do you have asking anything about that walking corpse?"

Hermione's back fleetingly straightened in shock. Was that a trick question? She had believed that he possessed some amount of intelligence as to the details of what Professor Dumbledore requested of her. Hermione assumed Dumbledore told Severus everything as well.

"He's worried about Sirius' loyalties to him," she stammered. "He wants me to... be there... for him. He wants Sirius to have someone to confide in... to trust."

"And you've consented to this?" Severus gasped.

"Yes..."

Pushing against the wall he had her pinned to, Snape forcefully sprang away from her, pulling his hands through his hair.

"I was asked this at the beginning of the year!" she called after him.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "And at your last meeting? Did you leave Albus with the impression that you are going to carry on with this idiotic request?"

"I couldn't go back on my word, Severus." Hermione pleaded for him to understand. "Please, don't be angry with me!"

"Angry with you?" he snarled, lunging at her. "How could you even think that I would allow you to be an intimate friend of his?" He looked her up and down, as if seeing her for the first time. The disgusted look he sent her pulled at Hermione's gut. "Why would you consent to this, knowing that he lusts after you?"

"Dammit, Severus!" She fisted her hands in frustration. "Do you think I want to do this?"

He snorted under his breath, scoffing in an attempt to dismiss her answer. "You've still consented. That speaks well enough on its own..."

"I sacrificed! Just as you make sacrifices in your position."

His jaw tightened. Swallowing the excess saliva in his throat, he leaned into her, his eyes glistening with bottled vehemence. "Do not interrupt me."

Hermione looked up at him, shaking her head in disbelief as to the sudden turn the discussion had taken. "You can question my orders, my yearning to help Dumbledore. But am I allowed the same? Can I question where you go, what you do, and expect to receive answers?"

He grinned nastily at her, crossing his arms, pulling his teaching robes over both his shoulders. "No. You cannot."

"Then don't demand them of me!" she shrieked, her curls shaking with the violent jerk of her head.

This time, he was forced into silence. All thought of a response completely escaped him.

Clenching his jaw, Severus glared menacingly at her. Looking as if he was forcing himself to continue remaining silent, Snape swiftly turned on his heel, leaving her alone in the tower.

*** *** ***

Snape was not certain exactly how many hours he had sat fuming in his chambers. But he wouldn't have been surprised if it was nearly morning.

Jerking his head back, Snape gulped more Firewhisky as the stone wall to his left began to move. Almost thinking he was hallucinating, he had to remind himself that it was just the door appearing, marking the entrance of a haughty, seventh-year Gryffindor.

Well, here's his proof that she can remember the appropriate application of his wards, after all. He snorted at the thought.

Hermione marched in to stand before Severus, slamming the door behind her.

"Has my door offended you?"

She narrowed her eyes. With her mane of wild curls haphazardly scattered about her shoulders curtaining her puffy eyes, she must have been crying or tossing in bed. Only clothed in her thick dressing gown, it seemed he wasn't the only one who had been unsuccessful in finding sleep after their argument.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," he drawled, mindful of his voice so he wouldn't obnoxiously slur. "Do try to avoid taking your frustrations out on the castle. She is rather old."

"Shut up."

Effectively shocked, Snape snapped his head toward Hermione. Eyeing the empty glass on the end table, she sniffed the air before inhaling sharply.

"Are you drunk?" she gasped.

"Define 'drunk'."

"So, you're drunk and stoned," she accused.

Closing his eyes, Snape groaned loudly. When he allowed himself to indulge in these vices, it was always with the intention of intoxicating himself into oblivion. So discussing them with an angry paramour while still under their influence was the very last thing he wanted to do.

"What do you want, Hermione?" he spat irritably. That question meant so many different things in his mind. How can she think she has the right to presume as much as she already does?

"I want answers!" Hermione wailed, thrusting her hands into the air to point out the obviousness of her request. "I'm tired of remaining in the dark while being expected to just go along with other people's plans. I'm sick of others demanding answers from me. You've been gone for days, Severus! Did it never cross your mind to send word to me? To let me know you are all right? The last time I saw you, I was nearly attacked by the very man who tried to kill Harry while bringing back Voldemort..."

"Silence!" Severus pushed himself out of his armchair. He had remained entirely unemotional and impassive up until that point. "Do not speak the Dark Lord's name in my presence!" he roared, rounding on her.

Fear momentarily breezed across Hermione's eyes before her stubbornness surfaced again.

She defiantly raised her chin as a sardonic smile graced her lips. In truth, she had always attempted to choose her words wisely when she was in this man's presence, but Hermione wasn't so sure he deserved it anymore. "Fear of a name only increases fear..."

"Spare me that speech," he interrupted with a tired moan. "I've heard it far too many times than I care to. Not even our omnipotent Headmaster knows, nor understands, everything."

"So you disagree," she asked slowly, as if she were speaking to a small child.

"Don't assume that quoting his pearls of wisdom will make you better for it. He's an idealist, Hermione. He can only ever see the bigger picture, choosing to ignore the individual."

"I would never guess you would be one afraid to speak his name," Hermione chided.

"Fear has nothing to do with it," he spat, turning away from her. He was about to pick up the bottle of Firewhisky, so Hermione rashly stepped toward him.

"Voldemort," she whispered as harshly as she could. His body faltered slightly as if she had thrown something at him.

Snarling heatedly, Severus' fingers closed around the half-empty bottle of Firewhisky, flinging it across the room. Shards of glass exploded on the stone wall as his voluminous teaching robes billowed behind him at the sudden movement. Clenching his teeth, Snape whirled around, lunging at her with his fingers instinctively curled for her throat.

Knowing what he was about to do was a mistake, Snape halted in his attempt the moment he was close enough to see her pupils. They were dilated in fear. She was frightened at his outburst and had stepped back to get away from him.

This was not the reaction Severus wanted, but the Death Eater in him enjoyed it. His upper lip curled. This was her own doing, and he'd make her realize that.

"Severus," Hermione's voice shakily cried as he resumed his attack. She worriedly raised her arms against him.

Ignoring her, his face twisted in uncontrollable rage. The flames from the hearth caught the grotesque creases around his lips and eyes. Snape swatted her arms away, grabbing her by the hair, painfully pulling her toward the settee as she squeaked in disbelief. The moment he forced her to sit down, Severus released his hold and pulled up the left sleeve of his arm.

The Dark Mark was a horrid scorch of black. He thrust the monstrous sight into her face.

"Every myth," he spoke dangerously, leaning over her so she wouldn't even think of getting up, "possesses some roots of truth in their history. There is a reason wizards and witches have trained themselves against speaking the Dark Lord's name. Because once, over twenty years ago, it seemed that every time it was spoken aloud, some crime or destruction would soon follow."

Hermione wanted to listen, but she was frightened and wounded at his violence toward her. Touching her scalp with her fingertips, she shakily gasped in an attempt not to cry. "I don't understand..."

"If I tell you... demand you not to do something... DON'T. DO. IT. Haven't you ever wondered why wizards and witches all over the fucking world fear to speak it? My master didn't change his Muggle name randomly one morning for the hell of it, Hermione. You must have noticed the extreme amount of self-importance he possesses, so it should be no surprise that he made a sick ceremony of his new title."

Shaking slightly, Hermione vaguely heard his words as her eyes darted around.

"There is power in a name, especially a name created by a madman," he barked, attempting to force her attention through fear. "Look at it," he commanded of her, turning his wrist over so his forearm faced up. "The mark only burns black when we are summoned by him... or graced with the luxury of hearing his name."

Hermione's breath skipped a beat. She stared at Severus, her eyes finally showing some amount of interest in his angry and mad confession.

"Not just anyone can, or wants to get a Dark Mark, Hermione. Only the most selfish of intentions, pure malice, and deceitful hearts have the capacity to bear it as he places it upon their skin. And when it happens, every injustice you have ever felt, every enemy you have ever sworn against, every pain you have desired against others, floods through you in a single moment... and you feel powerful enough to make such wickedness happen. Best high of my life," he smirked slightly when her face snapped toward his end table.

Hermione swallowed, her body sagging into the settee as her heart slowly ached with compassion. If she'd known this man a little better, she would have had the better sense to not let such emotion bleed through her eyes. She attempted to place her hand upon his face. "But you've changed," she said softly. "You're good now."

Severus violently pushed her hand away.

"Am I?" he scoffed, dipping his head so his hair thrust forward.

"Severus..." Rubbing her fingers, she shot him a hurt and shocked glance.

"The same emotions I felt the first night I received this," he quickly looked down at his arm, "I have been forced to relive every fucking time I am called to him. Even the sheer mention of his majestic name forces that numbing hate, and my mark burns anew."

Severus dramatically bowed. "So thank you, my dear. Here I was, mourning the loss of such sensations for the past few days, wishing to feel it all over again. You were so kind enough to give it to me... twice."

Hermione's eyes welled. "I'm sorry... I didn't know. I honestly had no idea such things still haunted you."

"Spare me," he coldly snorted. "I am a Death Eater, Hermione. Even you have said so yourself. And I will remain one until the day I die."

Silence passed between them as he continued to loom over her. Snape distantly marveled as to why he had disclosed as much as he had. He had always been so very careful about not revealing personal information that others could use against him. He truly believed that the vast majority of wizards and witches were far too daft, or sheltered, to appreciate such furor, such horror.

But had he thought better of her.

Standing there, clutching the pristine fabric of his Head of House furniture upholstery, Severus actually yearned for her energetic mouth to start moving.

"Are you so quick to give up on yourself when others haven't?" she whispered more to herself than him.

He was speechless a moment. This wasn't the type of reaction he'd expected. Anger or tears would have been much more typical.

"Given up?" he mockingly asked. "My dear, in order to give up, you must first possess hope in something greater than yourself. I have learned to abandon such foolish inclinations."

"Then you're already dead. What makes your heart that much different than the one beating in Sirius?" she whispered.

His jaw tightened. How dare she?

"If only it were that easy." His face emotionless, Snape finally pushed himself away.

"Then why do you do it?" she desperately called after him. "Why have you sworn yourself to the Headmaster? Why are you helping the Order... now? What made you want to switch sides in the first place?"

Snape paused by the fireplace. His eyes unfocused for a moment in thought. Since he had already divulged a great deal so far, his annoyance did not fester at her meddlesome questions. "I was..." He paused with a long exhale.

He wanted her to know.

"I was caught by the Aurors a couple of years after I had sworn my allegiance to the Dark Lord... which... of course, was directly before the Potters were destroyed. They intended my immediate death. In the madness of everyone being suspected as a follower of the Dark Lord, just and unbiased trials mattered very little. Somehow, they had figured out that I possessed some abilities with Occlumency. So the Ministry called Dumbledore to interrogate me."

Closing his eyes, Severus derisively smiled at his memories before forcing himself to continue speaking.

"They had also arrested my mother with the intention of charging her for being a Riddle sympathizer...because I lived with her. But this wasn't a coincidence. The Ministry had already found it quite useful to torture family members during the interrogations."

Severus laughed mockingly. "I must admit, it was very ingenious. As my mother's blood coated the floor, all thoughts of blocking my mind and hiding my emotions were impossible."

"Whatever you were feeling then..." Hermione sensitively added. She spoke softly so her tears would not find their way into her speech. "... yearning for forgiveness, remorse... it was all real. Dumbledore must have seen it."

"He did," Severus admitted. His face was a fusion of emotions, telling Hermione that he hadn't allowed himself to remember such things for a very long time. "And yes, it was very genuine. I didn't want that life anymore. The reasons I had joined, the revenge I had sought against... no matter how hard I tried, my actions never affected the 'right' people. I soon learned that allowing your subordination to a power-hungry...crazed wizard rips all control from your grasp. Thinking I had finally found the means to command my own life, I ended up living one that was twice as horrible. Added to this, I had also grown very wary of living for, and indulging in, the various self-destructing vices with my brother Death Eaters."

Hermione arched her eyebrows questioningly before shooting a knowing glance at his end table. Snape waved his arm and tilted forward slightly.

"What can I say? My relapse this time around feels much more justified. Free of influence and peer pressure. Strange, really, how such notable men can despise everything Muggle in the public eye. You'd be surprised how many witches and wizards enjoy the vices of Muggles. Synthetic narcotics, Muggle prostitutes, piercings..."

"Tattoos?" Hermione spat knowingly.

That far away look Snape had in his eye cleared. Eyebrows pinching together, he spun around.

"What did you say?" he growled.

If Severus Snape hated anything, it was being caught off guard.

"N-nothing," she stuttered unconvincingly. Hermione attempted to rise out of her seat, but Severus stormed across the room to intimidate her beyond movement.

Stupid. How could she be so stupid? It had felt so natural to let that slip. This past summer, back at twelve, Grimmauld Place, Hermione vividly remembered the scene that took place in Snape's room. He had just returned from an assembly with the Death Eaters. It was that first glimpse into his double life that had played in her thoughts all night. She remembered it very clearly: his defined back, taut with quivering muscles, shown splendidly in the candlelit room, and how the candlelight had faintly illuminated the massive tattoo etched across his skin.

Was it supposed to be a secret? Was he ashamed of it? Now that she thought about it, during every one of their intimate sexual interludes up until this point, Severus had never completely undressed.

She shouldn't be thinking all this right now. Severus sensed she was hiding something.

"What aren't you telling me?" he asked bitingly.

"I'm not hiding anything!" Would he enjoy knowing that she had spied on him during one of his weakest points?

"I don't believe you!"

She didn't care if she was lying to him. Hermione was sick of him continuing to intimidate her. She violently pushed him away, slipping out of the seat. "Fine! Then don't believe me!" She attempted to turn away, flicking her wand at the stone wall to reveal the hidden door.

Growling in frustration, Snape grasped her arm, pulling her back toward him.

"Look at me," he breathed in quiet anger.

"Let. Me. Go," she spat.

"Look at me!" He bellowed. His other arm darted out, grabbing her forcibly by the chin.

Shocked at his anger, Hermione fearfully looked into his eyes. The second she focused on his penetrating black pupils, she knew this had been a mistake.

"Legilimens!"

"No!" she wailed.

A searing pain scorched across her mind. Fire flowed through every artery in her temples. She didn't know how to properly shield her thoughts, but everything about this felt wrong. Not being able to see what you want, no control over the direction your memories traveled. To Hermione, a person that treasured her every idea and philosophy, this was horrifying.

"Stop fighting me," he hissed, blatantly ignoring her internal cries of pain.

Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes. "Stop... making... me," she gasped.

She was walking though the dark corridor back at number twelve, heading for the crack in Snape's bedroom door. A surge of excitement that was not her own flowed through her. She sensed Snape's hunger and his strong control in wanting to see the finished scene. As Hermione's face pressed against the doorframe, the image of a half naked Severus, his back facing her, lay before her eyes.

But, suddenly, the door was yanked open, revealing a drunken middle-aged man with bloodshot eyes. The man opened his mouth, yelling at the intruder. A strange, low sound came out, muffled by time and multiple unclear memories. Hermione screamed the very second Snape let go of her face. Her will to remove herself away from her thought and Snape's willing release caused her to fall back clumsily on the floor.

Hermione gasped great gulps of air, forcing herself not to succumb to the panic attack that threatened with silver stars in the corner of her eyes.

"How could you do that?" She hiccupped between sobs.

Snape looked down at her cowering on the floor. His brow furrowed in acute curiosity. "Who was that?" he asked quietly.

"My father," she said furiously. "I haven't seen him... like that... since I was so little." She continued to ramble in an attempt to clear her thoughts. "I mean... my Boggart... at my OWLs fifth year... but it wasn't as real as this..."

Severus awkwardly knelt next to her. Slowly grasping her elbow, he attempted to lift her off the floor.

"Don't touch me." She cringed, yanking her arm away from his hold. Before she thought better, Hermione allowed herself to react with the movement. Her arm pulled back, before sharply slapping Severus on the face.

... her arm pulled back again...

After the first hit, his eyes bulged in shock before clenching in acceptance.

She swiftly slapped him two more times.

He didn't move. If anything, the harsh clench of his eyes vaguely relaxed in unquestionable acquiescence.

A beat of silence passed between them.

Snape slowly opened his eyes. His Dark Mark no longer burned black, so the rage he had allowed himself to succumb to had subsided. His better senses finally sunk in. Severus felt responsible and knew it was up to him to make some type of amends, but he truly didn't know how to go about it. So he remained kneeling on the floor. All he could offer was to desist in his attempt to intimidate her by his lack of height.

Hermione inhaled sharply, forcing herself not to cry. Scrambling away from him, she quickly stood up. The more she tried, the harder the tears threatened to surface.

Hermione was so enraged and distressed that she could find no words. But the sight of his continued kneeling position pulled at her gut. One knee was firmly planted on the carpeted stone, his other knee bent with his thigh parallel to the floor, balancing his weight on the ball of his foot. Severus' head remained down, limp hair blocking everything but his hollow eyes.

The perfect stance of a conditioned soldier who was waiting for the command to rise.

She quickly turned from him and fled from his chambers before she made a fool of herself by begging for his forgiveness.

*** *** ***

Standing on the bank of a trickling stream, Remus raised his chin, nostrils flaring. Following the rivers and streams through the Dark Forest was the easiest way to locate a potential hideout. If large groups of people lived together, then they would need a supply of water.

The stench of body odor and rotting meat floated downwind. He hated that smell, yet, from cave to cave, it was always the same.

He had to be mindful not to hold his nose or allow his face to alter in disgust. That would insult the pack, and he didn't want to ruin any more connections.

Remus lowered himself under the low ceiling of the stone entrance that reeked of decaying meat, unclean bodies, and sex. He kept bending under the grubby stone, deeper and deeper into the cave before finally being able to fully stand up straight.

"You might as well go out the way you came," a deep voice rasped.

Lupin whirled around, eyes narrowing, forcing them to adjust to the low darkness of the soiled fissure.

"Why would you say that?" he asked the seated figure on the floor.

"Greyback visits us regularly."

Remus' face went pale. That wasn't a warning he was prepared to hear outside his own circle of friends.

"And that should matter to me?" he questioned shakily, attempting to feign ignorance.

The woman cackled. She sat crossed-legged on the mud-caked floor, her long hair matted to one side. In her attempt at human speech, her dry lips split open. Her blistered tongue darted out, trailing along her mouth to lick the creases of blood.

This was the very reason Remus preferred to venture out the night after a full moon. Certainly, his own human body was repairing from his violent transformation... but at least he had the gift of Wolfsbane over such individuals. So at any rate, he could feel content in being a bit stronger than the rest of them.

"Rumors get around," the deranged woman rasped. "You may fancy yourself quite the prissy pet of wizards now, but we all know you once belonged to him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied dismissively, pretending to have business beyond an old woman hovering within the weathered seat by the opening of a cave.

Every society had classes, including those labeled as the dregs of the wizarding world. If he wanted to make his way to the leader of the pack, he had better hurry up and push his way to the back of the cave, furthest from the entrance.

"I wonder, Remus, if you are truly afraid or mourn him like a lost lover. Some say you are too petrified to visit his caves, knowing you'll eventually run across his new sweethearts." With that, the woman jerked her head.

Full of dread, Remus turned toward the darkness.

He looked beyond the mangled bodies healing themselves with the grace of time until the next full moon.

There was a young boy, not much older than twelve, in the far corner of the cave.

Furthest from the entrance. It seemed, indeed, Greyback had been here if a boy possessed that station of superiority. After all, Remus had been there himself.

Except... much younger.

Shirtless, fresh blood pooled on the hollows of the boy's bony shoulders before streaking down his still unblemished back. The waistband of his trousers grew heavy from catching the falling drops.

Remus numbly walked up to the boy, unmindful of how his own legs guided him there. He watched the young man wince every time he dipped a grubby rag into a bowl of water.

"Poor child," Remus breathed, examining his back as the young man attempted to heal his wounds.

"I am not a child!" the boy instantly snarled, whirling around.

Remus possessed no reply. By the saddened and knowing look he sent him, Remus could see the look of realization pass across the young man's face. Shame and resentment caused his young features to pinch.

"He is not your friend." Remus repeated the very first words a male werewolf had numbly said to him the first time he himself was head of a cave.

The anger and defensiveness immediately released from the young boy's eyes. He looked at Remus as if he were the first family he had seen in a very long time.

But they had never met before.

"Greyback takes care of me," the boy mumbled in his attempt to defend his attacker.

"But at what expense?" Remus asked delicately.

The boy's face fell.

"He might protect you from the others... " Remus turned to eye the other werewolves suspiciously. "But what of your family?"

"I can't go back," the shirtless boys inhaled, shaking his head wildly in an effort to stop from sobbing.

"He won't let you go back," Remus clarified. "If you do, he'll kill them."

The young boy's eyes widened. "How do you know all this?"

Remus painfully closed his eyes. "What's your name?"

"John," he said with a hesitant glance at the floor. Timidly turning around, his fingers nervously fidgeted in his lap, picking at his cuticles.

"He bit you, didn't he, John?"

"Yes," the boy said softly. His head suddenly jerked up, his face contorted in guilt. "But he takes care of me!" he defended again. "Gives me food, protects me from harm." His eyes frantically searched for more excuses for his oppressor.

Remus winced at his familiar behavior, forcing himself to spit out his thoughts. "If he truly cared about you, he wouldn't force himself on you."

The boy narrowed his eyes defiantly.

Remus raised his palms, showing he didn't wish him any harm. "He bit me too."

*** *** ***

"Back sooner than I thought." The Muggle spoke to the dark figure that stormed into his tattoo parlor. Scratching his stubbly chin, the Muggle curiously observed the typically silent man immediately start unbuttoning his stiffly pressed shirt.

"Hello, to you, too," the tattoo artist chided further at being ignored. He'd seen patrons much more weirdly dressed than this man. Heard stories much more sadistic. This walking, aspiring vampire before him was no oddity.

"Do shut up, Bartley," Severus hissed.

Severus carefully placed his voluminous black cloak on the counter, followed by his folded undershirt. Walking around the chair, he smoothly draped his leg over one side, mounting the seat so he could rest his chin upon the straight back.

"Honestly, mate, there isn't much room left." The tattoo man cackled, which quickly turned into a hoarse cough.

"Then trace over it," Severus hissed over his shoulder.

Snape slowly closed his eyes, preparing himself at the familiar whirl of the mechanical, tattoo needle. The Muggle first steadily went over all of the faded shading and lines. As the dozens of sharp pin pricks pierced his skin, Snape sighed.

Even this pain was beginning to abate.

"To what do I owe the pleasure for this one?"

Severus groaned at the man's obsessive need of conversation. "Your tact, as always, Bartley, knows no bounds."

Another hoarse, coughing laugh. Snape slightly inhaled as the Muggle drove the needle deeper than necessary.

"So what was it?" the Muggle questioned unbelievingly. "Murder two children as their mother watched? Mercilessly pierced the maidenhead of some young girl with a candlestick?"

"That was last week," Snape sneered disgustingly.

"So what creature, symbol, or figure do you want me to etch on your back this time?" The man cackled. Suddenly mindful of procedural rules, he quickly reached for the stained latex gloves discarded and folded on top of his ink bottles.

No matter, Snape had already ingested the necessary potions that prevented infection. He swallowed thickly before verbally requesting his next artwork.

"A lioness," he muttered thickly.

"Blasphemy! You strike me as more the bat- and reptile-loving type..."

Snape grabbed a bottle of sanitizer from a spindly table in front of him, violently flinging it over his shoulder at the rambling man sitting behind him.

"I have a soft spot for bloody kittens. Just fucking do it!"

When a cold, gloved hand grasped the inked skin of his back, the sharp pricks soon followed. At the sound of the Muggle's coughing laugh, Severus prepared himself for the needle. Maybe he should make this despicable man laugh more often. He'd been coming here for years, but he wasn't exactly certain if it had the same effect as before.

Due to the argument he'd had with Hermione yesterday evening, Severus' past has been constantly on his mind. So he couldn't help but remember the reasons he first started this habit.

Initially, it had begun with Severus' bewilderment over no longer feeling empathy for his victims.

Necessary casualties of war, as Dumbledore habitually preferred to call them.

Truthfully, he didn't want to understand his apathy. Snape just accepted it as the way things were now. But he knew it wasn't normal.

Severus remembered it vividly. That first day he Apparated home, very late one night from his job. Before, he would practically run upstairs to disinfect himself under the scorching hot shower where he would cry desperately over his sins until the water stopped running red.

But that first time... after swiftly entering his cramped living space, he immediately headed for his drinks cabinet instead.

Then it happened again.

And again.

Thinking he was beginning to go mad, Snape forced himself upstairs and into his bathroom. Yanking his stained Death Eater robes off himself, he stared at the mirror, attempting to recognize the dark man looking back at him. What he saw was a man who no longer possessed self-pity. His shame was gone... even his guilt. Snarling in frustration, he raised his balled fist, slamming into the reflecting glass with all his might.

Tears finally sprang to his eyes as he carefully pulled the broken shards of mirror from his bleeding knuckles.

Not too long after that incident, he'd started coming here.

"Done," Bartley hummed throatily, turning off the electric needle.

"No," Snape growled, "you're not."

Exhaling, he closed his eyes as the rhythmic whirling began once more.

He concentrated on the burning pin pricks of the needle as his thoughts unwillingly traveled, forcing him to think of her name.

Hermione.

---

Author's Notes: Oh... the angst. Greyback did believe in taking children from their families while they were young.

-Melusin was wonderful enough to fit in betaing this chapter between reading DH and attempting her own writing.

-Chapter title taken from John Milton's Paradise Lost, Book i. Line 65. The uncut, full phrase is:

Where peace

And rest can never dwell, hope never comes

That comes to all.