Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1008742.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Remus_Lupin/Harry_Potter, Lucius_Malfoy/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Remus_Lupin, Kingsley_Shacklebolt, Severus_Snape, Walden
      Macnair, Lucius_Malfoy
  Additional Tags:
      Dark, Non-Consensual, Snuff, Rape
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-10-18 Words: 4956
****** Thou Shalt Not Kill ******
by Maeglin_Yedi
Summary
     Don't you just love it when a plan finally comes together?
Notes
     Pairing: Harry Potter/Remus Lupin
     Rating: NC-17
     Warnings: Slash, non-con, rape, character deaths, snuff, hints of
     necrophilia and watersports.
     Disclaimer: All the characters from Harry Potter belong to JK
     Rowling.
     Summary: Don't you just love it when a plan finally comes together?
     A/N: Written for the Roughside Fuh-Q-Fest and answers to challenge 8.
     Due to a problem with the wolfsbane Remus is in human form but acting
     very much like a wolf. He decides he wants someone for his mate, and
     he's going to have them, AND their submission. (Skye)
     Big thanks to Gina for the beta.
     Word count: 4952
     First published: September 2003
The scent seemed stronger now, invisible to his human eyes, yet he could see it
clearly around him as dim yellow stains, smudged on the handle of the stairs,
the wall, the doorknob. That scent, that impossibly innocent, arousing scent,
had been calling to him for days now. But the others had been around, stopping
him from sniffing out his prey.
The darkness of number twelve Grimmauld place felt soothing around his
hyperactive senses, and the mournful atmosphere only roused his need to release
himself and take what he wanted. All those others, all those humans, were weak,
and it had almost driven him insane to have to pretend not to be a beast, until
*he* had arrived four days ago.
There had been an immediate attraction, yellow smudges of scent everywhere that
he could still see even when he closed his eyes, and it had taken all his
willpower not to chase, take, claim, maim. Yet. Because now the others, those
who could stop him, would stop him, were gone, and he finally had the
opportunity to give into his instincts rather than try to think with what
little part of his human mind was left.
That scent pulled him in, led him up the stairs silently, placed him outside a
closed bedroom door, panting, sweating, shivering in anticipation. The house
was completely silent save for his own ragged breathing and the soft sobs on
the other side of that piece of wood that stood between him and the one he
would claim.
It was time.
Time to release his beast, let his instincts take over, become what he truly
was, and take what was rightfully his.
His rigid fingers, more like claws now, and his trembling hand had trouble
grasping the doorknob, but he managed it, pushing the door open, the hinges
creaking softly, the sound too loud for his sensitive hearing.
Blunt teeth bared, saliva dripping down his lips, he entered the dimly lit
room, eyes fixed on the still form in the bed. It was his right as the Alpha to
choose a new mate now that he had lost his old one. It was his right as the
Alpha to take whomever appealed to him the most, and this young, healthy,
innocent boy was most fit to become his new mate.
A head shot up from under the covers, red-rimmed eyes looking at him in brief
shock. "Remus? I'm....I'm fine. It's just...I miss him so much."
Those words had little meaning to his animalistic mind, and passed him by as he
stepped up to the bed, every single move of his legs and feet carefully
calculated, muscles tense and ready to spring into action. He opened his mouth,
but only a low growl passed his lips as he'd lost the ability to form human
words once he'd given into his instincts. He had no need for human words now
that all he wanted was to take and claim.
"Remus? Are you all right?" The boy sat up, thin shoulders stiff beneath a
flimsy blue pyjama shirt. "Remus?"
He could taste fear in that tone, and it tickled the back of his throat
pleasantly as he swallowed. He expected the boy to show submission, but when
his new mate reached for the stick on the bedside table, he knew the boy was
challenging him instead of accepting his obvious dominance.
He didn't think as he pounced, knocking the boy back to the bed, stick between
his own strong fingers, effortlessly snapping it in two. He didn't need to
think while he would claim and demand submission from his new mate.
"Remus?! Stop! Let me go!"
The boy struggled for all he was worth, but he easily pinned that scrawny body
down to the bed, straddling him, leaning down to inhale his new mate's unique
scent that surrounded them both as a weak, pulsing yellow aura. Darting his
tongue out, he licked the boy's face, across his nose, his lips, his throat,
tasting what had teased his nose all that time, helpless legs thrashing and
trying to kick him off.
"Please....Remus....please stop." The voice weakened, as did the struggles, and
for a moment he thought the boy had finally submitted to him. But then his
throbbing arousal dug into a sharp hipbone, and his new mate seemed to realize
what exactly that meant, and started fighting him with renewed vigor.
Growling, baring his teeth as a clear sign of aggression, he released the frail
arms he had pinned down above the boy's head, curled one hand into tousled
black hair and started ripping off the thin fabric that shielded the body he
wanted to claim. But despite his clear signals that he was the one dominating,
demanding nothing but submission, the boy started punching him in his face and
against his chest.
Those frantic fists did not stop him from tearing off the boy's pyjamas, and
once all that flawless skin was exposed he sat back, ignoring frightened cries
and the slaps which grew weaker and weaker as his new mate quickly became
exhausted from trying to match his inhuman strength. He was drooling now,
strings of saliva dripping from his chin onto his new mate's heaving chest,
coating it with the beginnings his own scent, although he knew he had more
marking to do before he could call this one his own. Much more.
"Please....stop...Remus...please..." Soft sobs, barely audible for a normal
human, made him cock his head, amber eyes blinking blankly for a moment,
confused yet satisfied to see the boy finally showing some signs of submission.
Reaching for the irritating fabric that covered his own flesh, he did not see
the small fist shoot out and punch him in the pulsing flesh between his legs.
Roaring in pain and anger, he momentarily crawled back, eyes narrowed and fixed
on his new mate, ready to fight and defend his dominant position.
But the unexpected attack had surprised the boy as much as it had surprised
him, and he launched forward again, now determined to punish his new mate for
his insolent behavior. Grabbing thin arms, he threw the boy off the bed,
watching in satisfaction as the thrashing body slammed against the wooden
floor. Eyes never leaving his new mate, who tried to crawl away from him, tears
staining cheeks, dust and grime soiling frantic arms and legs, he ripped off
the last of his own clothes and pounced again.
The young body stopped squirming beneath him when he forced trembling legs
apart and started pushing against a dry, tight hole. He had to claim, he had to
mate, and he drove his hips forward, his aching prick tearing his new mate
open, the tight channel starting to feel slippery while the coppery scent of
blood filled his nose. His new mate was screaming now, green eyes wide, mouth
open and body tense beneath his thrusts.
He did not like that sound; it prickled his hearing in ways that made his eyes
water and his gums ache. Groaning, he tightened his fingers in thick, black
hair, shaking his new mate's head until those screams became soft whimpers, and
he could continue pumping and claiming. Teeth biting down on his forearm made
him scream in agony, and he threw his body back, pulling his new mate's head
with him, a soft snap of bones deadened by his howl when he slammed the thin
frame back against the wood and continued thrusting.
There was submission now, the boy's head lolling to the side, throat bared as a
clear sign he was surrendering, and he bit down in the pale flesh, unable to
control his urge to shake and tear. Blood, sweet, warm blood filled his mouth
while he pulled back and spit out a chunk of flesh, his hips pumping harder,
the body beneath him loosened and still.
When his sac started to tighten and his thighs tensed, he pulled out of the
limp body, arched his back, and spurted his release, his scent, his claim,
across his new mate's pale flesh. Whimpering groans escaped his throat as his
body spasmed and his eyelids fluttered, and he felt release and pleasure and
something fall back into place deep inside of him. He had a new mate. All would
be well now.
Smearing his seed across his new mate's skin, rubbing his scent into every
pore, he inhaled, but wrinkled his nose briefly. It wasn't enough. Not yet. He
needed to mark further, make the claim even more thorough, for all the world to
see. Kneeling between his new mate's motionless legs, he bucked his hips
forward, relaxed his muscles, and watched in satisfaction as his stale urine
cascaded down on the one that was now his, his scent wafting up so strongly, it
made him drool again.
Relaxed, at ease, peaceful, he bent down to lick his new mate's lips and
cheeks, softly nudging his nose against that unresponsive face, silently
telling the boy to return his affection and care. But his new mate kept still,
eyes wide but fixed on nothing, and he felt confused. Perhaps his new mate
needed to rest, and he crawled beside the boy and curled his body around him,
trying to keep him warm as he felt the skin beneath his grow colder. Nuzzling
his new mate's throat, tongue lapping carefully at the wound, the mark, he had
left there, he sighed, and decided to wait for his human to wake up again,
meanwhile standing guard while the boy got some well-deserved rest.
                                   *~*~*~*~*
Shutting the back door behind him silently, Kingsley stepped inside the empty
kitchen, ran his hands across his face, and let out a tired sigh.
"Remus?" he called out, meaning to let the other man know he had returned.
Remus had looked tired these last couple of weeks, even more tired than he
usually did, and Kingsley had been reluctant about leaving the man to fend for
himself that evening. But he'd had no other choice than to answer Fudge's
unexpected call, and hurry to the Ministry for a last-minute Auror meeting.
Of course, everyone had been tired ever since...the incident, as they called it
amongst themselves. Physical wounds had healed, but the emotional ones were
still fresh and festering, and Kingsley knew Remus was more affected by the
loss of his best, and perhaps only, friend than he said he was. But he hadn't
pushed his fellow member of the Order, hadn't told him to join them for
hesitant social gatherings while Remus was hiding out in the drawing room or
his bedroom. Kingsley knew the man needed time, even though with Voldemort's
forces growing stronger and stronger every day, time was a luxury they could
not afford.
Despite feeling exhausted and hungry, thinking about one of Molly's home-cooked
feasts and his comfortable bed upstairs, Kingsley walked up the small steps
that led into the hallway, determined to find Remus and send the man to his
bed. Kingsley would wait until the Weasleys returned, sure that either Bill or
Arthur wouldn't mind keeping watch for a while, so he could get the sleep he so
desperately needed.
"Remus?" he called out again, softer this time, as he approached the drawing
room, but a mind-shattering howl that came from the first floor made him stop
dead in his tracks, and automatically, he grabbed his wand. Kingsley was sure
he had never heard anything like that before. It was the sound of an animal in
pain, but at the same time it held such torment and suffering that it sounded
far too human.
Taking three steps at a time, Kingsley rushed up the stairs, wand poised to
attack and defend, and when he was only a couple of steps away from the dimly-
lit hallway, a mixture of foul smells penetrated his nose and made his stomach
lurch. Blood, sweat, semen and urine, stale and tangy, and Kingsley instantly
knew something terrible had happened.
His first thoughts were that Voldemort must have found a way to locate their
hide-out, and had breached the wards to get his hands on their special house
guest. Briefly, Kingsley debated calling in back-up, but he knew that there was
no time to lose, and he was an experienced Auror after all. He'd fought his way
through many a battle and had always come out in one piece. Well, mostly,
anyway.
But when he rounded the corner and stood on the doorstep of Harry's bedroom,
Kingsley was shocked beyond words while he stared open-mouthed at the display
before him.
Remus, naked and obviously not in his right state of mind, was shaking Harry,
his hands raking desperately across the boy's limp body. Kingsley felt all his
blood rush from his head and out of his body somehow, because his arms and legs
felt powerless, useless, and all he could do was stare at Harry Potter, who
looked...
A furious roar snapped Kingsley out of his paralyzed state of mind when Remus
spotted him, turned his naked body slowly, and attacked. It was on pure
instinct that Kingsley found the word that would stop this beast and save his
own life.
"Stupefy!"
Remus fell, but it took his body forever to hit the floor, giving Kingsley an
eternity to notice the dried semen on the man's abdomen and the blood stains on
his limp penis.
Dust whirled up around the body as it finally hit the wooden floor, which
creaked a loud protest under the sudden force. Complete silence filled the room
as the dust slowly settled, covering both the man's and the boy's naked bodies
while Kingsley unconsciously held his breath, his eyes fixed on the scene
before him. But the images made little sense, because if he would allow the
meaning of them to sink in there would be no escape from the truth. And the
truth, as it lay there before him, was simply unacceptable.
Standing rigid and silent, Kingsley finally allowed himself a sharp inhale, and
with that surge of oxygen came the realization that there was no way around the
facts present in that room.
And while Kingsley felt himself grow smaller as the room around him started to
look bigger and emptier, it dawned on him that Remus Lupin has lost his mind,
and that Harry Potter was...
A surprisingly strong grip from a parched hand on his arm startled Kingsley,
and he snapped his head to the side to stare into lifeless-looking blue eyes
that were supposed to twinkle.
"Out of my way, Shacklebolt." Someone brushed past him roughly, and when
Kingsley looked away from Dumbledore he saw Snape step inside the room,
stopping briefly to take a deep breath.
"How...?" Kingsley wanted to ask more, but his voice was failing him, unable to
find words now that the truth was starting to leak into his mind.
Dumbledore waved his hand weakly at the portrait in the room, its canvas
usually empty, but now occupied by a pale-looking painted figure. "Phineas."
Nodding, Kingsley looked from Phineas, who had one hand clamped across his
mouth while he rested the other one on the side of the painting to keep himself
steady, to Snape, who crouched down between Remus and Harry, his brow furrowed,
a curtain of black hair shielding his face, while he carefully touched the
boy's throat.
Shaking his head, Snape looked up at them. "I'm afraid we've arrived too late,
Albus." His voice was soft and grave, but still sounded far too loud in the
unexpected air of death in the room.
Kingsley felt Dumbledore's grip on his arm tighten, and he quickly covered the
headmaster's hand with his own, larger one, and gave it a soft squeeze. It
seemed useless to try to give comfort to the older man beside him when the
death of that young man would impact more than just their lives, but Kingsley
couldn't resist the urge to do so anyway, needing to at least take some sort of
control lest he would crumble under the sheer implications of what Remus had
done.
Suddenly, loud voices drifted up the stairs, accompanied by light footsteps,
and while Kingsley glanced from Snape to Dumbledore and back, neither of them
seemed in any state to speak a warning. But the voices and the footsteps
softened, a brief moment of silence enveloping them like the still air before a
storm, and then a heart-breaking scream sounded through the old house, roaring
like thunder.
"Bill, take your mother away from here. Now," Arthur commanded while Molly
tried desperately to escape her husband's sudden hold on her arms. Bill, his
usual grin and bright eyes nowhere to be seen, nodded at his father, and all
but dragged his mother away from the doorway, and ironically, into Remus'
bedroom down the hall.
Stepping past Kingsley and Dumbledore, Arthur entered the room, but stopped a
safe distance away from the bodies, covering his mouth with both hands. His
eyes were wide behind his horn-rimmed glasses.
"Remus?" Arthur looked up at Dumbledore, his expression slipping into a pained
grimace. "But how? And why?"
Questions to which they all wanted answers, and Kingsley looked up at the old
man beside him again, sure that if anyone had answers, it had to be the
headmaster. Dumbledore shook his head, and ran a trembling hand across his
long, grey beard. "We're not sure, Arthur."
"If it's any consolation, which I'm sure it is not," Snape drawled
unpleasantly, "I do not believe Potter has suffered. Much. It appears his neck
was broken, and he died a quick and painless death."
Arthur let out a muffled shriek. "But he's been...?" He didn't finish his
sentence, but looked at Dumbledore, as though hoping the headmaster could
change the facts with which they were confronted.
"Raped, yes," Snape said. He pushed the boy's legs apart a little further, and
studied the small pool of blood between them as if examining a potion made by a
particularly untalented student, his hooked nose wrinkled and his lips pursed.
"Severus," Dumbledore's voice held a certain threat, and Snape looked up at the
headmaster, his eyes slightly narrowed. "Have there been any changes to the
Wolfsbane potion recently? Has Remus been taking it every month?"
Snape held the headmaster's gaze, expression neutral, almost uninterested.
"Lupin has taken it every month. And I can assure you I have not changed the
ingredients to the Wolfsbane potion ever since I started brewing it for Lupin
almost three years ago."
While Dumbledore nodded at Snape, Kingsley tried to make sense of the
situation, needing to know why on earth Remus would want to kill Harry Potter.
But then he remembered the tormented howl, and Remus' desperate hands on the
boy's body, and Kingsley knew that whatever Remus had done had not been
intentional.
"Albus," he said, his voice soft. "I do not believe Remus meant to do this.
When I found them, he seemed quite distressed by Harry's body."
But before Dumbledore could respond, Snape stood up and brushed a bit of dust
off his black robes. "It is of no importance if it was intentional or not."
Snape looked at Kingsley briefly, his gaze dark and daring, before he shifted
it to Dumbledore. "Lupin is a werewolf. There will not be a second chance for
him.
"Oh, dear Merlin," Arthur whimpered, and Dumbledore let out a quiet sigh and
bowed his head.
"I'm afraid you are correct, Severus." Dumbledore nodded his head once.
"I'll fire-call the Ministry then." Snape brushed past them and disappeared
down the stairs.
"And I suppose Fudge will want to speak to me." Dumbledore patted Kingsley's
hand, and gave him a silent nod before following Snape down.
Taking off his glasses, Arthur ran the palm of his hand across his eyes, taking
a shaky breath. "Molly," he said by way of explanation before he left the room,
shoulders hunched.
And Kingsley was left alone with the bodies of two men, one still breathing and
one not. It began to dawn on him that he was partially to blame. Had he not
left Remus alone that night, this would not have happened. But Kingsley knew it
was a lie, because none of them had ever expected Remus to do something like
this, and one of them would have left him alone with Potter sooner or later.
Still, the idea that it had been a member of the Order who had killed the one
they had all tried to keep alive above anyone else, was unbearable.
Stepping inside the room, feeling as if he were somehow trespassing, Kingsley
walked up to the bed, grabbed the blanket, and for the first time noticed the
broken wand lying uselessly on the floor. The boy had not stood a chance
against the force of a wolf, even if he had been in human form.
Looking down at Harry Potter's dead body one last time, Kingsley bent and
closed the boy's eyes with a gentle touch of his fingers, before he covered the
still form with the white sheet. It was the least he could do, although he
wished for all the world he could turn back time and save the Boy Who Had Once
Lived, but was killed by a wolf they had all trusted. A wolf who had signed his
own death warrant, and who would see yet another innocent human to his grave.
                                   *~*~*~*~*
He remembered his new mate's dead body as he woke up inside a cage, cold and
hungry and alone. He felt every last bit of miserable pain of losing yet
another mate, one he'd only just found and claimed. He did not understand why
he had lost the boy, or why these humans kept him behind bars while they looked
at him with disgust and fear clearly written across their faces.
He remembered the names of the humans that were standing in the room they led
him into, looking at him with grave eyes and smelling of pity, anger and
disbelief.
He remembered his own name when an unfamiliar voice read it aloud amongst a
wave of meaningless words as they forced him to his knees and bent his body
across a wooden block.
He remembered the face and the name of the man who stepped up to him, a face he
knew he disliked, and a name that gave him cold shivers and made him bare his
teeth.
Yet, he did not remember why he was brought there, and why those people -
Albus, Arthur, Kingsley, Snape, Fudge, Macnair - were gathered around him.
He saw people signing parchment, but he did not see the sly smile playing
around Snape's lips. He saw Arthur closing his eyes, but he did not see
Macnair's hungry gaze. He saw Albus giving Kingsley a short glance, but he did
not see the axe being lifted.
The last thing Remus Lupin saw before eternity claimed him was the flash of an
iron blade reflected in Macnair's maniacal eyes.
                                   *~*~*~*~*
Truthfully, Severus had given up hope that his carefully constructed plan to
bring out the worst in Lupin would ever work. His slight changes to the
Wolfsbane recipe before he started brewing it in Potter's third year had been
meant to rouse the wolf while Lupin was in human form, and therefore prove to
the headmaster that a werewolf was not a responsible choice as a professor.
Severus had been very displeased when the added viper fangs and stems of a
Venus flytrap to the potion had not led to Lupin's discharge during that school
year. Of course, that disappointment was quickly dealt with when Severus had
leaked certain facts about Lupin to his students.
Still, Severus had been sure that the build up of the added ingredients would
influence Lupin's personality eventually, and he had not changed the recipe,
instead curious to see when it would start to work. But as one year turned into
two, and two into three, Severus began to give up hope. Until the fateful
events of the previous evening.
While he walked through the darkness towards the mansion, Severus felt the
irresistible urge to smile, and the corners of his mouth twitched up far enough
for it to feel painful. But he couldn't help himself, because his plan had
worked in the end, and had produced an even better result than he had ever
dared to hope.
For the first time in many, many years, Severus felt something akin to
happiness now that the men who had made his teenage years into a living hell,
and their useless offspring, were all gone.
His pace was light and almost cheerful as he closed the doors behind him and
made his way through the large entrance hall towards the ballroom.
"Severus." A familiar high voice spoke his name, drawing the last 's' out
slightly, a fact that normally irritated him, but Severus felt too good to care
about small peeves that night.
"Bellatrix," he stated while he turned towards the woman who was leaning
against the wall near the door, her hunched form partially covered by shadows.
"I believe you have something for me, Severus."
He could see a flash of white as Bellatrix gave him a proud grin. "Yes, I
believe I have." Severus reached inside his robes, and produced a small pouch,
which clinked when he placed it in Bella's outstretched hand. "It's all there.
Fifty Galleons."
While Bellatrix opened the pouch and glared inside greedily, Severus smiled
again. He had not really believed that Bellatrix would be able to take Black
out, but he had found it amusing to make the friendly wager anyway. When their
Lord had told them of his plans to use Black as a way to reach Potter and the
prophecy, Severus had taunted Bellatrix about her cousin until the woman had
started babbling in her mad tongue that she would rid her family of that filth
once and for all. To tempt her even further, Severus had dared her to bet money
on it. And he wasn't in the least bit disappointed to have lost the bet.
While he turned away from Bellatrix to make his way to the ballroom, Severus
gave her one last glance across his shoulder. "Oh, Bella? The veil? Very nice
touch."
Bellatrix cackled. "The Killing Curse would have been too kind for him. Now he
shall live among the dead for all eternity."
Severus left the woman, knowing that if he stayed she would start babbling and
he did not feel like listening to her insane rambling just then. He had a
reward to claim, after all.
The moment he stepped inside the crowded ballroom he was all but pounced upon,
and Macnair pressed a sloppy kiss on his cheek before slinging an arm across
his shoulders, half-empty whiskey bottle swaying against him.
"Severus," Walden slurred, eyes bloodshot and an alcohol-induced blush covering
his cheeks. "Now that was dramatic, wasn't it? Did you see their faces when I
chopped his head off? So tragic." Macnair gave him a droopy grin, dark curls
falling in front of his eyes, and started laughing.
Looking at the drunk executioner, Severus chuckled, and gently dislodged the
man's arm. "Walden, you are truly an artist," he said with a faint smile as he
stepped away from the other man. Macnair raised his whiskey bottle and saluted
him before he stumbled across his own feet, and fell into Avery's arms who gave
him an annoyed glare.
While he walked across the hall towards the throne, Severus was clapped on his
back, grabbed into unwanted hugs and saluted with glasses and bottles filled
with alcohol more times than he'd ever been in his whole life. He wasn't very
comfortable with all this sudden attention, but knowing why his fellow Death
Eaters were behaving like this was enough for him to accept it without any
snappy comments.
"Severus, my most loyal servant."
Hearing that icy voice directed at him, Severus dropped to his knees and was
about to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robe when long, pale fingers curled around
his shoulder and pulled him up again.
"Arise, Severus. Tonight we feast, and tomorrow you shall be rewarded beyond
your wildest dreams."
"You are too kind, my Lord," Severus drawled with a small inclination of his
head before he looked up into crimson eyes. Voldemort smirked at him, and then
ran his fingertips across Severus' cheeks.
"You have done well. Celebrate our impending victory. Enjoy yourself."
"As you wish, my Lord." Severus stepped back from Voldemort with a slight bow,
and wanted to find a dark corner where he could get a few moments of peace
before he would do as his Lord had ordered him to do.
"Not so fast, Snape." Severus turned around quickly, and looked down at his
chest when a silver serpent head was tapped against it. Gazing up, he stared
into light grey eyes, and smirked.
"Lucius." A simple statement while he raised his hand and circled the serpent's
head suggestively with a stained finger.
Stepping closer, Lucius raised his cane and pressed its head under Snape's
chin, looking down at him across his nose. Severus met his gaze almost placidly
before the corner of his mouth twitched up into a sly smile.
"Harry Potter. Fucked to death." Lucius burst out in rich laughter, lowered his
cane, and grabbed the collar of Severus' robes, pulling the other man up to his
body. "So brilliant. So cunning." Narrowing his eyes, Lucius brushed his lips
across Severus'. "Who would have thought you could be so disgustingly evil?"
Severus half-shrugged. "I've learned from the best," he whispered, and crushed
his lips on his lover's.
 
~~fin~~
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