He really had no idea why he had done it. There was no good reason to have invited the man in, instead of merely taking the smoking goblet from him and bidding him goodnight as usual.

And it had never occurred to him to wonder why Snape had accepted, although he did think that the man had looked rather surprised at the offer. If memory served, he'd lifted one black eyebrow, stared at Lupin a moment, and then replied, in a tone of unimpeachable gravity, "I suppose I might carve a few minutes out of my busy social schedule."

And so it had begun.

And so it had gone on, during the nights before the full moon. Snape would appear at his door, Lupin would take the goblet, and a polite invitation would be proffered and accepted. Sometimes there was wine, and sometimes scotch. Sometimes there was chess, or cards, or merely conversation.

Lupin supposed it was a kind of friendship, although he found it ironic that he had managed to befriend a man who was not only unknown to possess any others of the name, but was also the bitter enemy of the man Lupin had loved.

Sirius had been gone for over a year, and Lupin put it down to sheer bloody loneliness.

"Your move."

"Hmm? Ah, thank you." Lupin stared at the board for a moment, then hesitantly put his hand on a bishop.

"Are you quite sure you're up to this tonight, Lupin?" Snape asked.

"What? Yes. Why do you ask?"

Snape fixed a cool stare on him. "Well, to begin with, you're drinking my scotch at twice your usual rate. Secondly, you have punctuated nearly every sentence you've uttered this evening with a most pathetic sigh. And lastly, that is my bishop you're planning to move."

Lupin looked down at his fingers, which rested lightly on a black gamepiece. "Oh. So it is." He sighed. "I suppose you're right. I am feeling a bit out of sorts this evening."

With a sour expression, Snape grumbled, "I presume that is my cue to inquire as to what might be troubling you."

Lupin smiled gratefully. "That's kind of you, Severus."

"It's no such thing. I am merely protecting my scotch."

"Of course. I'm sorry. I'll buy you a bottle next time I'm--"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Well, thank you. You're quite generous--"

"No, I am not. You couldn't afford a truly decent bottle of scotch on your salary."

Lupin sighed again and smiled sheepishly. "I see."

"Now, before I lose patience with this conversation altogether, what is it that has you moping about like a Victorian heroine?"

Lupin felt himself go a bit red in the face. "I suppose it's... that is, I... it's just been rather a long while since... and, well, a person has certain... needs, you might say..."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to say that you've gone all moody and vaporish like this because you're not having enough sex?"

"Any, actually."

"Why on earth not? You're a perfectly acceptable-looking man. You have a disgustingly amiable disposition. What difficulty could there possibly be?"

"Severus, you know what I am."

"It had not escaped my notice, no. However, as your regrettable malady failed to deter that bastard Black, I am not sure why you believe it should be an insurmountable problem for someone else."

Lupin put his head in his hands. "That's just it! Don't you understand? I loved Sirius. He was my partner. My lover. My mate. And werewolves..." He paused, then continued in a hushed tone. "Werewolves mate for life."

Snape gave him a quizzical glance. "No they don't. Who told you that?"

Lupin's eyes went very wide. "Sirius," he said.

"And you believed him."

"Well...yes."

"You are the most astonishingly gullible man. Perhaps you'd like to buy out my interest in London Bridge?"

"Very funny. So what you're telling me is that... I mean, it's perfectly natural for me to... I can..."

"You can sleep with whomever you wish. In fact, my understanding is that werewolves are actually rather promiscuous."

"Promiscuous?"

"That's what I've heard."

Lupin was silent. His mind was racing. A lot of things were suddenly making sense.

"You're looking well," Snape said as he poured the wine.

"Yes, thanks. It's been an interesting few weeks."

"What's that on your ear?"

Lupin flushed slightly. "I had it done not too long ago. A friend's idea."

Snape lifted an eyebrow. "A friend?"

"Er--yes. So you might call it."

Snape said nothing, but the eyebrow stayed up.

"Oh, all right. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt, if you must know. We got to talking after one of the Order meetings, and... well..."

"I see."

"I've always rather... fancied him. He's so..."

"Officious? Uninspired? Dull-witted?"

"Tall. Dark. Handsome."

Snape gave a disapproving sniff. "Well. If you say so."

"And pierced."

"Ah yes. The trademark gold hoop. How original."

"His ear's not all that's pierced." Lupin's mouth quirked in a secretive little smile.

Snape shuddered. "Please, do not enlighten me further."

"All right, all right. But you did ask."

"A fact which I shall regret the rest of my days." Snape sipped his wine and set the glass back down on the table. "Now shut up and deal the cards."

Lupin hummed cheerfully to himself as he set up the chessboard. Sensing something, he glanced over to see Snape giving him an odd look. "What?" he asked.

"What is that sound you're making?"

"It's called music. I'm sure you've heard of it."

"Lupin, 'music' is what one hears when one attends the opera. It is tuneful. It is purposeful. It is not what was emanating from your lips."

"I was just humming, Severus." Lupin looked chagrined.

"Well, stop it. What are you on about, anyway?"

He shrugged. "Just happy, I guess."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Please, no more about you and Shacklebolt. I've heard enough for one lifetime."

"Oh, I'm not seeing him any more."

"No?"

"No, it really wasn't working out."

"I'm sure I shall regret asking this, but why not?"

"Well, to be honest, he just wasn't very...skilled. In bed."

Snape made a choking sound and nearly spat out his mouthful of wine. "I see," he coughed. "That's... regrettable."

"Yes, it was, really. But I'm well out of it. Things are much better with Bill."

"Bill?" Snape's voice was quietly incredulous.

Lupin grinned.

"Bill... Weasley?" The incredulity was no longer trying to be quiet. "Are you telling me that you and that freckled monstrosity are... are..."

"Lovers, yes." Lupin sipped his wine and swirled the glass thoughtfully.

For a moment Snape was silent. "You're taking this promiscuity bit rather to heart, aren't you?"

Lupin chuckled. "I suppose I am."

Snape said nothing, but Lupin found himself in checkmate in rather fewer moves than usual.

"Happy Christmas."

"The same."

They clinked glasses and each took a long sip of Snape's excellent scotch.

"You'll be staying at Hogwarts?" asked Lupin.

"I usually do, yes." Snape seemed in rather a better mood than usual, and Lupin wondered if it was the prospect of four studentless weeks stretching ahead of them. "Yourself?"

"Well, I suppose I'll be here. Now." Lupin could not keep a touch of disappointment from coloring his voice.

"I'm not going to get out of hearing this, am I," said Snape. It was not a question.

Lupin sighed gustily. "It's over between Bill and me."

"Horrors."

"We'd planned a trip to Italy over the holidays, but he's taking that Beauxbatons tramp now. Bastard." He took another sip of whisky. "Bitch." A larger gulp. "Screw them both." He tossed back the rest of his scotch and poured another.

Snape pursed his lips as he watched the whisky disappear. "If I'd known you were in this frame of mind, I'd have brought a bottle of Ogden's instead."

"No, no, Severus. This stuff's fine." He belched contentedly. "Besides, I've got the staff Christmas party to look forward to. Maybe I can chat someone up there. Take my mind off it."

"Did you have anyone particular in mind, or were you just going to let nature take its course?" asked Snape with an aggrieved air.

"Well actually, since you ask," said Lupin, leaning forward conspiratorially, "I've half a mind to see what it's like on the other side of the fence. If you follow me." He grinned.

Snape glared at him. "I understand the first part perfectly. You've half a mind. I quite agree with you, there."

"Oh, come on, Severus! It'll be a hoot. Or..." He gave a rakish grin. "A Hooch, if you take my meaning."

Snape closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "I think I grasp the basics, yes."

"If she'll have me, that is." He emptied his glass a second time. "Say...you wouldn't happen to know of any good...you-know-whats..." He motioned with one hand as if draining a vial into his mouth. "For that sort of thing?"

"If I did," drawled Snape, "I assure you I would cut out my tongue and feed it to the crows before I told you."

"Yeah," said Lupin. "I figured as much."

"Lupin, are you quite well?"

"Fine. Yes, I'm fine. Just... tired." Lupin ran a hand through his hair and stepped aside so Snape could enter.

"Hmm. Been doing a little too much flying lately?" Snape's lips curved into a smirk as he set the bottle down on the table.

"Oh, God, Severus! Don't mention broomsticks!"

"Ah, things not going well with Rolanda, then?"

"Who?" Lupin's brow wrinkled.

"With Rolanda. Rolanda Hooch. Last time we spoke--"

"Oh, right! No, no, that never really panned out. I mean, yeah, she's a phenomenal lay, but--"

There was a crash as a wineglass shattered on the flagstones. Lupin watched as Snape stared at it a moment, then rasped "Reparo" through gritted teeth.

"You all right, Severus?"

"I have never been better, Lupin." His jaw was still clenched, and Lupin fancied he might actually have heard the man's teeth grinding together.

"Well. Good. Um, wine?"

Snape made no reply except to fill the wineglasses and hand one to Lupin. The two of them moved to their usual chairs and sat in companionable silence. At least, Lupin thought it was companionable. It was hard to tell with Snape, really.

After they had finished the first glass and started on the second, Snape seemed to reach a decision. He stopped merely staring at the fire and turned to look at Lupin.

"So. The flying apparatus you did not wish me to mention."

"Yes?"

"I'm mentioning it."

"Hmm. Well, it's kind of funny, actually." Lupin smiled and rubbed his chin. "It all started because of the Hooch thing. We were out on the Quidditch pitch one night--she liked it out there, but I never could get used to the grass stains on my arse--and who should show up but that little sod, Malfoy."

"Draco?" Snape sounded quite surprised.

"Yeah, turns out he fancies a little 'night-flying' himself. I forget who he had with him. Some sixth-year Ravenclaw, I think. Collins? Colfax? Doesn't matter. Anyway, one thing led to another, and--"

Snape put a hand over his eyes. "Lupin. Please tell me that this story does not end with you shagging my godson."

"No problem there."

"Praises be."

"No, I have to admit it's pretty much been Draco shagging me. In fact, he's wearing me out. My God, but that boy's got an appetite! And the broomstick thing--"

"Stop. For the love of Merlin, stop!"

Lupin didn't think he'd ever heard quite that tone in the Potions Master's voice before.

"Why do you play chess with me if you know you're going to win?" asked Lupin.

Snape looked at him as if he'd just grown an extra head. "Because I like to win. Why do you play with me if you know you're going to lose?"

"I don't mind losing, if I learn something. I just like to play."

"And are you learning something?"

"You tell me."

Snape cocked his head and appeared to consider. "Perhaps. I only beat you once in the time it used to take to beat you twice."

Lupin grinned. "See!"

"Hmmph." Snape set the board up for another game.

"You know, Severus, I've been thinking."

"Careful, you might hurt yourself."

"Ha ha. All this business about werewolves being promiscuous. It's starting to pall."

Snape gazed at him. "What do you mean?"

"It's just that... I mean, the sex has been great. At least, most of it has. And being with someone new is always exciting. I like that aspect."

"Yes," said Snape slowly. "I understand how that might be enjoyable."

"But I think maybe it's time to... oh, I don't know. Find someone who could be more of a partner."

"I see."

"I'm tired of just being someone's plaything. Their flavor of the month."

Snape took a gulp of scotch. "Ah. Yes."

"For once I'd just like to be with someone who really understands me. And likes me for who I am. You know?" Lupin gazed earnestly at Snape a moment, and then flushed and looked down at the chessboard.

Snape nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, that would be appealing."

"So." He took a deep breath, held it a moment, and exhaled in a burst of decision. "I've decided to start seeing Hagrid. He knows magical creatures. If anyone can truly understand a werewolf, it'd be him."

There was a strangled sound.

Lupin looked up from the game. "Severus? Is something the matter?"

Snape was late. He had never been late before. In fact, thought Lupin, one did not often include the words "late" and "Snape" in the same sentence, much less in one so short as "Snape was late." Most puzzling.

Just as he had decided to make his way down to the dungeons to find the man, he heard a familiar knock at the door and on opening it found Snape standing there, his pale face sour and his robes rumpled.

"Severus! There you are."

Snape grunted. "Your potion," he said, handing it to Lupin.

"Aren't you going to come in?"

"I think not. I'm tired."

"Anything the matter?"

Snape shrugged. "I'm not sleeping well."

"Oh. Well, if you aren't going to sleep, you might as well sit here and beat me at chess. I have a new wine I thought you'd like to try."

With a sigh, Snape took a tentative step into the room, and then stopped to glare at Lupin. "No talk of Hagrid. Is that clear?"

"Well, yes, but--"

"No sordid details, no anecdotes, and most assuredly nothing that involves innuendo."

"Fine, Severus. Fine. But I'm not seeing Hagrid any more."

Snape paused on his way to the sitting area. "You aren't?"

"No. I'm free as a bird these days."

Snape looked thoughtful. "I see." He sat down in front of the fire.

Lupin followed him and opened the wine, pouring two glasses. "No, Hagrid's a wonderful man, but it just wasn't going to work out."

"No?"

"We're just too different. Intellectually. Emotionally."

"Of course."

"Physically," Lupin added, reddening slightly.

Snape grimaced. "Ah, I see."

"No, it wasn't a good idea. But we parted as friends, and that's something."

"Indeed."

"Yes, and I've really been doing some thinking this time. I know what I want now. No more mucking about."

"And what is it that you want?" asked Snape, gazing at him intently.

"Well, for starters, if I'm to have a partner, then we should have things in common. It should be someone I can call a friend."

"A good beginning," Snape agreed.

"Perhaps someone here at Hogwarts."

"Certainly proximity is a consideration."

"Someone intelligent. Well-educated."

"Important characteristics."

"He should be good at what he does. I've always found that appealing."

"Understandable."

"Looks don't really matter."

Snape waved a hand. "Superficial concerns."

Lupin paused, toying with a bit of lint on his robe. "I think you can see where I'm headed, here."

Snape swallowed audibly. "I believe so."

"I just..." Lupin looked away. "I just don't know if he'll have me."

He heard Snape clear his throat. "I suspect he would."

Lupin turned. "You do?"

Snape nodded.

"I'm surprised, Severus. I didn't think you and Filius were particularly close."

"We--Filius--I--what?" Snape's voice sounded odd, as if he were trying to swallow his tongue.

"I mean, I know you're colleagues, but I didn't think the two of you had much to say to each other. Why do you suspect he'd be interested in me?"

"Flitwick?"

Lupin furrowed his brow. "Yes, what did you--"

"FLITWICK?"

"Severus, what's wrong?"

Snape leaped from his chair and began to pace in front of the fire. "What's wrong? What's WRONG? You have the unbelievably appalling taste to propose to enter into a carnal relationship with a simpering, giddy dwarf three times your age, and then you want to know what's wrong?"

"Er--"

"In the past six months you have made your way through our circle of acquaintance like some insidious tropical disease! You've buggered an Auror, a Weasley, and even a bloody half-giant. You've shagged the Quidditch coach, and for Christ's sake you've engaged in who knows what sort of lascivious occupations with my brainless twit of a godson, who I'll have you know happens to still be a goddamned student at the goddamned school you've somehow managed to turn into your own personal goddamned seraglio!"

Snape's face had gone the color of an eggplant, and hands were curled into claws. He took a deep breath to continue, and although he lowered his voice slightly, his tone was no less scathing.

"Has it completely escaped your notice that there is someone else, someone at this very school, someone perhaps in this very room that fulfills every single one of your blasted criteria, and who has the distinct and overwhelming advantage of NOT BEING FILIUS BLOODY FLITWICK?"

Lupin stared at him in silence. After a moment, he rose from his chair and slowly walked over to where Snape stood, wild-eyed and trembling with rage. Gently, he placed a hand on each side of Snape's face and pulled him into a kiss.

At first the thin lips did not move. But then he felt Snape's arms wrap around him and suddenly he was being kissed back, urgently, hungrily, breathlessly. When they stopped for air, Lupin gazed at Snape's face a moment. The expression there was a confused mixture of shock and tenderness and fear and desire.

"Damn it, Severus," he said, with affectionate reproach. "What took you so long?"