WARNINGS: slash, violence, rape, language, mpreg

Beta/secondary: Bell Witch

DISCLAIMER: I do not in anyway or fashion own HP or anything else. I'm making no money from this.



One Drunken Night By SyberSnake

Chapter 4 - The Game beginning


Remus sat beside Severus Snape’s immobile form watching the one person left who reminded him of his old friends. Remus doubted that Severus would ever look at him as a friend—or even as a man—just a filthy werewolf. The idea that Severus hated him was always there. He remembered their school days: when the Marauders would play a prank on the dark-haired boy, how he wanted to go and cheer him up, how he wanted to protect him more than anything else. At first he’d thought it was because Severus was the smallest boy in their class. Later, he’d grown up into the cold, serpentine bastard he was now, and the protective instincts went away entirely. Until this morning, when he’d spotted Snape on the cold dungeon floor, and the protective instincts came back full force.

He wasn’t sure anymore why he wanted to lay beside the man and protect him so much, but he couldn’t escape the feeling—he was not even sure that he wanted to. Maybe it was because of Severus’ pregnancy. He hadn’t felt like this in years. No, even back in school he hadn’t been like this, like a lovesick puppy.

What was he thinking? Severus wouldn’t be falling in love with a man he hated, possibly even more than Voldemort himself.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He inhaled deeply and started to make a plan, a logical way to deal with the situation. And the situation was that Severus would first have to come to terms with being pregnant. As to the possibility that he would even begin to think of Remus in terms of being the second parent to the child… Damn! Why was he thinking such strange thoughts? They had too much negative history between them for there ever to be a happy ending between them.

First, Severus detested him. Well, maybe not detested, maybe just hated. Not as though there was much of a difference.

Second, Remus was a werewolf. Even if Severus hadn’t hated him for being friends with those who had bullied him in school, he’d hate him for that alone. And Sirius’ little prank didn’t help the situation any.

Third… third, Severus was not the best-looking man. Looking closely, he could now see he wasn’t a bad looking man either, maybe a bit unkempt. The marble-like skin with the ebony hair was almost sexy. Then there was this thing about the long, delicate fingers—so elegant. And without the ever-present sneer, he looked younger and almost carefree. Maybe it was not having the fate of the Wizarding world on his shoulders, or perhaps it was simply because he was unconscious. He chuckled a little at his private joke.

A faint whimper caught his sensitive ears, sounding suspiciously like a ‘no.’ A faint tremor ran through the lithe body and a frown began to form on the man’s face. Then Severus started to thrash, tried to fight, in his dream, whoever it was that had done this to him.

Remus could see his…friend?… Severus hurting and tried to comfort him, to soothe his fears. It seemed as though Severus did calm a bit at his touch. Remus trailed his fingers up and down one arm, nearly jerking back violently when Severus took hold of it and turned away, forcing Remus to rise from his chair. He considered the pros and cons of sitting beside Severus on the bed, undecided until his arm started to go numb. So, he eased himself down beside the dark man, his wolf self so content with the close contact that he nearly growled aloud with pleasure. He tried to get comfortable and ended with his back against the headboard and Severus sleeping peacefully in his lap. The unconscious figure turned and pressed closer to Remus, who found himself petting the—thanks to Poppy—now grease-free hair. It felt right.

For a long time he just watched Severus sleep, then the adrenaline that had earlier infused him slipped away. He closed his eyes for a moment. Just for a moment, he said to himself.


At the same time as Remus was dropping off to sleep, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was making his way through another part of the castle, heading towards the person who had last seen Severus before this had happened. People often said he was nearly omnipotent, that he knew every little secret in the castle. The truth was that he was simply a man, an old man.

He loved his dark child dearly and wanted to protect him as he protected so many others. But his efforts on Severus’ behalf had always been fruitless, had come second to the greater good. He was determined to make it right this time.

He stood before Harry’s room and knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again—nothing.

He hoped that Harry hadn’t also been hurt last night. He opened the door and stepped inside. A chill ran up his back at the sight: the room was a disaster, with clothes everywhere. But the bed was too tidy and had new sheets on it. Something was not right. He wasn’t exactly sure of what it was, but knew he wouldn’t like what he found.

“Harry,” he called out to the empty bedroom. “Harry, are you here?”

Muffled sounds came from the bathroom, and something crashed to the floor. Then Harry stepped out.

“Headmaster, I didn’t hear you come in.” The young man sounded almost normal. If he hadn’t been a professor for nearly fifty years he might not have caught a faint tremor in Harry’s voice. He was afraid of something, or someone. Albus stepped closer, a smile frozen on his face.

“Harry, my boy, I didn’t know you would leave so early.” Harry had never been good at Occlumency, no matter how they’d tried to teach him to close his mind—he was simply too emotional, too impulsive. Albus caught a hint of regret and shame in the boy’s, no, young man’s mind. It puzzled him a bit, and a small Slytherin instinct screamed that the evidence was there, that Harry was guilty of causing Severus’ misery. His Gryffindor side doubted that Harry would ever do something like that, not Harry. Surely not Harry. But then, why the regret? Why the shame?

"Harry, what have you done?"

He saw Harry turn pale and he stepped back. “I thought he wouldn’t remember. I wiped his memory. I thought… he wasn’t supposed to remember. It was a mistake.”


“Why? How can you ask that?” Harry sounded a bit hysterical at this point. “He’d make my life a living hell. This is Snape. He’d tell everyone that I’m… Oh hell, he’d have told everybody that we were together, just to make me look bad, just so people would laugh at me. I didn’t want to be laughed at: I just want to live like a normal man and not some freak.”

“Harry, what did you do last night?” Albus sounded stern to his own ears, but he needed to know what happened. He needed to know that Harry was… maybe not innocent, but not entirely guilty of the crime Albus thought he’d committed. He needed reassurance so that he could do what was best for everyone concerned.

Harry looked shaken, guilty, and ashamed. His voice stuttered and his face burned in embarrassment. “We had sex.”

Albus closed his eyes. Harry had been drunk last night. He hadn’t known what he was doing, had thought that he’d just had sex. But Albus doubted that Severus would share the young man’s viewpoint, and he couldn’t remember what had happened. He needed to act for the greater good. And the greater good was on Harry’s side. “As it ever is,” he almost thought he heard Severus’ voice, but knew it was his inner sense of right.

There were still Dark Wizards out there, and some Death Eaters as well. Harry was the hero of the Wizarding world, the hope of the future. Albus knew what he needed to do. He didn’t like it, but it needed to be done.

“Harry, listen to me. I want you to pack your things and leave the castle within the hour. You will not return, will never come close to Severus again. Is that clear? I want to hear it from your own mouth. Swear it.”

Harry was taken aback by the rigidity in Dumbledore’s voice, but he wouldn’t complain. He was surprised to get off so easily.

Before Dumbledore left Harry to pack, he turned on his heels and asked one more question.

“Are you one hundred percent sure it was just sex, that it was based on mutual agreement, that Severus was like any other lover should be?” His voice was cold and every word cut into Harry’s soul like a knife.

Harry wanted to say ‘yes,’ but he couldn’t. When the door closed the realization hit him full force. But it was just another—and bloody good—reason to leave as quickly as possible. He would think about it later.

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