Written to cheer up a friend of mine, Tien, who asked for this pairing specifically.

"Home" contains slash, nudity, and Severus Snape threatening to shake Remus Lupin

like the dog he is. It's really rather fluffy, though. I hope you enjoy.

Thanks to my betas: Jen, Yap, and of course Tien.

HOME

Home is the place where,

When you have to go there,

They have to take you in.

-- Robert Frost

I think, in the end, it was all the fault of a couple of Death Eaters -- fellow Death

Eaters, really, I should say, as at the time my lot was unavoidably thrown in with

them.

It was on account of the Death Eaters that I was in Diagon Alley that August, having

just emerged from a meeting with some lower-level peons, who assured me that the Dark

Lord was most eager for my service, despite the fact that he sent fools and witlings

to woo me. The meeting had been in Knockturn Alley, a place of shadows and dark

dealings, and I was, I must admit, brooding upon the words we'd said; upon my own lot

in life, a former Death Eater, not really on the side of good or bad, but somewhere

in-between. Nothing seemed certain, you see. I had no assurance that, having once won

my way back into Voldemort's good graces, I would not be taken wholly over. I am not

so strong as all that.

Voldemort.

You see, there are still those unafraid to say his name.

At any rate, there I was, in a poky little room above the Leaky Cauldron. I could have

gone back to Hogwarts that night, I suppose, but I detest the Knight Bus and one

cannot sleep on Muggle trains. I should know.

I had prepared for bed, and was sitting in my dressing-gown, reading. There was no knock.

There wasn't even any warning. No footsteps, no shouts, just a sudden explosion of noise

as the door to my room slammed open, and a figure ducked inside. Without waiting for me

to move, he raised his wand and said, in a hoarse and barely carrying voice, "Petrificus

Totalus!"

And I, of course, froze.

The figure shut the door, leaned back against it, and took two deep breaths.

"I am sorry, whoever you are," he said, in a calmer tone of voice, and I realised all

he could see by the light of the lamp were my petrified hands. "You'll understand in

about ten seconds -- "

There were pounding feet, and the sound of a window at the far end of the hallway

banging, and curses.

"Out through the window and up on the roof," said a voice from outside. The figure at

the door listened, carefully. "From there 'e could go anywhere. We're done here."

"But if he -- "

"We'll catch 'im. If 'e tries to get back to 'ogwarts or anywhere near the Ministry,

we'll catch 'im."

I began to wonder who was desperado and who was policeman. They did not sound like

Aurors.

The footsteps faded, and the figure let out a sigh of relief. "Lumos," he murmured,

lighting the room. He let the little luminous ball drift up to the ceiling.

"Severus Snape?" he demanded, when the light hit my face. If I could have moved at

all, it would have been an even toss-up between a sneer and a gasp.

"Severus, it, it's me -- Lupin," he stammered. "I'm so sorry -- here -- "

He came forward, mumbling a countercurse embarrasedly. I felt life flow back into my

muscles.

"Well, this is good luck!" he said, putting his hands on his hips. I stared up at him,

mute now not from the spell but from surprise.

The man before me looked nothing like my memories of Remus Lupin, either the old ones

of our school days or the more recent ones, when he had come to teach at Hogwarts.

That Remus had been thin, weak -- grey already threading his light brown hair. A

frail, sickly sort of man. Granted, he had put on some weight while he was a fellow

teacher, but still --

Standing in the flickering light of the weak lumos spell, this man looked far from

helpless, far from sickly. He was still rake-thin, still without much muscle, but now

it was the lean look of a hunter. His hair was dyed black. He was darkly tanned, and

there were four thin, angry red lines crossing his left cheek, from the bridge of his

nose to his chin. He gave me a weak smile.

"You look shocked, Severus," he continued, flopping down on the bed, his legs dangling

off the edge. He was wearing black, that much I could make out.

"You make yourself quite at home, Lupin," I replied, closing my book and setting it

aside. "In trouble, are you?"

"Of a sort. Bad hats. They've been trailing me since I left -- " he struggled up on

his elbows, gave me a searching look. "Well, since I left where they began trailing

me."

"Riddles, Lupin?"

"One never knows who's listening," he answered. "You don't mind me barging in like

this, do you?"

"Oh no. Why should I mind being assaulted, taken advantage of, and mistrusted? My

single bed is your single bed," I answered. I am afraid I'm often cross, but the world

often irritates me. Remus sat up, and rested his elbows on his knees. He drew a hand

across his face, winced as sweat was rubbed into the wounds.

"Fudge is a fool," he said finally. "I've been working for Dumbledore. I know you have

too, he's told me so. So you can consider my imposition for the night as a small

working for the greater good. Then you may feel free to pretend martyrdom, Severus."

"You'd better let me see to those cuts," I said, and took up my own wand. They were

tricky, enchanted to resist minor healings, but I am not a minor healer. He smiled

with relief as the angry lines faded to pink patches of new skin.

"You always help, Severus," he said. I stood over him, looking down in amazement. "Why

do you always help?"

"Because I didn't, when it really mattered," I replied, setting the wand on the

nightstand. "You take the bed. I've slept in chairs before."

"Ta, Severus. I'm knackered," he said, removing what looked like dragonhide boots.

"Merlin's grinning on me, eh? I barge into a random room in the Cauldron and there's

Sev Snape, who hates me but can't resist saving poor bedraggled werewolves."

"If you romanticise me again in that fashion, Remus Lupin, I shall ensure that you

cannot speak for a month."

"And I've no doubt you could do it, too," he said frankly. He seemed...different, in

this place, in that ridiculous costume. Dangerous in a way I'd never associated with

Remus. He touched my arm.

"Don't stare at me like that," he said.

"I am not staring at you."

"Yes you are. Like you're trying to decide whether to beat me to a pulp or let me get

myself killed naturally."

"I was not thinking that."

"Stop arguing."

"No."

Remus laughed, then, but it was tinged with a hint of desperation. "So are you going

to help me, Severus? Going to take my messages to Dumbledore and let me sleep here

tonight and give me the money I need?"

"Can I do otherwise?"

"Not without blowing your cover."

I will admit that this put me just slightly over the edge. I grasped him by the lapels

of what turned out to be a black silk shirt -- not at all his usual style -- and

lifted him to his feet. Off his feet.

"If you ever say anything like that again, so help me I will shake you to death like

the -- "

"Dog I am?" he managed, breathlessly. "Go on, Severus. You've been wanting to beat me

into the ground for twenty years. Here's your chance."

I set him down.

"You have no idea," I said, through clenched teeth. "I may not be popular or well-loved

or pleasant, but I am not a Death Eater."

His face paled. He touched my shoulder, and wouldn't meet my eyes.

"I didn't mean to say you were. I was just joking," he said. His fingers pulled my

sleeve away from my arm, tugged on it gently. "I meant your cover as a decent human

being. I didn't mean to imply you were a Death Eater."

"The last joke you made at school nearly killed me. This one insulted my morality. You

do rack up the points with me, Remus," I said coldly, stepping back. He followed.

"But I never mean it," he said, still looking miserable.

"But it happens anyway, doesn't it?"

He bowed his head, and I realised that I was tormenting a tired, frightened man.

"It's the natural way of things. Gryffindors and Slytherins fight. It's what we do."

"For Merlin's sake, Sev, we're not schoolboys."

"We don't have to be."

"So that's it, is it?" he demanded. "Severus Snape and Remus Lupin, great freedom

fighters on the side of Light and Good, however reluctantly in some cases, and we

can't even be friends because we were in different houses at school?"

"It's more than that and you know it."

"No, I don't! How many of us are left from school, Severus? That really give a damn

about the world? James and Lily are /dead/ and Lucius Malfoy is practically the Dark

Lord's lapdog and -- and Sirius is hiding out and Peter -- " His voice cracked. "Why

do we have to be the heroes?"

"Someone has to," I replied. I had never particularly thought of myself as a hero.

Remus leaned forward, seeking comfort, and who was I not to give it? I put my hand on

the back of his head, holding his face against my shoulder, my neck.

"It's not like last time. There are only a few of us, just a handful, and half the

wizards we could call on in better times are scared stupid," he said, and I felt his

breath on my skin. I doubt he noticed that I tilted my head, just a touch, so that he

fit better in the crook of my neck.

"You're tired," I said. "You'll be the better for a good night's sleep."

"Didn't you hear?" he asked. "We're not allowed to sleep. Constant vigilance and all

that."

"I can be vigilant for both of us," I said. I meant to ease him back onto the bed, but

he clutched the collar of my dressing-gown, and suddenly we were both sprawled atop

the counterpane. To add embarrassment to mild contusion, his molestation of my collar

had forced my robe open at the chest.

"Why do we always fight, Sev?" he asked. He touched my face with his hands.

"I hold grudges and you antagonise me," I answered.

"Yes, it's sort of a hobby," he said, and he kissed me.

I remember being shocked to discover the scars on his body, when the silk shirt fell

from his shoulders, when the hardwearing black denim slid from his legs. I think he

saw my scars, too. We neither of us had any illusions about the sort of men we are,

after that.

Where his fingers touched, I was sure it must be magic, the way I felt; when he

murmured things, outrageously romantic untruths, I was sure they must be some sort of

spell, to make me believe that Remus, slight, wiry Remus -- who had needed me but

never wanted me -- might find me something different when our clothes were off. When

he could touch my shoulders, twine his legs in mine. It wasn't magic, but it felt like

it. It might very well have been love.

No, there are no illusions between us. We fight with each other; it's what we do. But

we also fight shoulder to shoulder. We're soldiers, in our own way. And even a soldier

has to have somewhere to call home.

For me, home used to be the dim little rooms at Hogwarts, where I lived and worked.

Now, I often think, Home is Remus Lupin.

And I think, for him, it might be wherever I am.

I like to believe that, at any rate.

END