Severus sat in the very last pew of the chapel, hidden in shadows as he counted off the beads of the rosary he'd been given, murmuring a litany of Hail Marys. The repetition was soothing, not unlike how he felt while stirring a complex potion. The repetitious circling of the spoon, the repetitious words and movement around the rosary - different acts, but in principle, they served the same purpose, namely to engage the body and distract the mind in order to offer a respite from the ongoing whirl and struggle offered by daily life.
He had quite a few Hail Marys to complete thanks to the required Confession. He had waited until the other men on retreat had their turn in the Confessional, and then he had remained in there far longer than any of them. He had promised to take the retreat seriously, which meant taking Confession seriously, and he had quite a lot to confess.
It was rather nice, he thought, to dredge up all the old muck to someone who wasn't involved and who could listen objectively and without judging him. He had even spoken at length of Dumbledore, admitting things to the listening priest that he had not articulated to any other living soul - his grief, his guilt. He'd had no time to mourn properly at the time, but now, years after the fact, he felt as if he finally had.
He confessed his homosexuality as well, since he knew that was considered a sin by the Church, although he wasn't the least bit repentant of it. The only thing he did leave off his lengthy list of sins was the fact that he had come to the Abbey for the express purpose of seducing a novitiate away from God. For one thing, he didn't want to be thrown out. For another, he rather thought he'd given the poor priest enough to deal with for one session. He didn't lie, merely omitted, and quite frankly, he thought he'd been given enough penance to do for absolution and atonement as it was.
Having never had a confidante, Severus understood the lure of Confession better after having experienced it. Dumbledore had been the one person Severus had come closest to unburdening himself to completely, but even with him, Severus had held back, knowing as he did that Dumbledore was using him. With the priest, there was no such imbalance, and knowing that whatever he said would be confidential and that at the end of the retreat, he would be leaving and would never see any of these people again, he had spoken freely for the first time in longer than he could remember.
Afterward, he had retreated to this secluded corner. There was a break in the activities until dinner, and he took advantage of it to steal a few moments of quiet time alone to restore his mask and recuperate after the unfamiliar experience of brutally honest revelation. He wasn't in the mood for one of his fellow men on the retreat to initiate yet another painfully earnest discussion of God, faith, and the trials of the world. These wet behind the ears puppies knew nothing of trials or darkness, and they had never had their faith truly tested. They tired him, as most young people tired him, and the less time spent in their company, the better as far as he was concerned.
He wasn't in the mood to see Remus either. It would be another battle between them, with Remus defensive and Severus pressing, and there was time for that later. Right now, he was content to count his rosary and sit and simply be.
The chapel was very quiet as Remus stepped inside from the door near the altar, pausing for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light within. His gaze moved down the pews which lined the central aisle of the nave, over the bowed heads of the worshippers who knelt in devotion. He spotted Severus at the very back of the church, dark head bent as he looked down at his hands, which were holding a rosary. Remus thought he could see Severus' lips moving in prayer, and he blinked in a bit of surprise. Severus had indeed given his word that he would take the retreat seriously, but somehow Remus hadn't expected that would extend to going through reconciliation and acts of contrition.
Although it did explain the wide-eyed look of stunned horror on Father Michael's face when Remus had seen him exiting the chapel just a few minutes before. No doubt the good priest had heard many things in his life, but the litany of sins from a man of Severus' temperament and history must have been quite a shock, especially sprung on him unprepared. It also spoke well of Severus, that he was willing to go through it in order to show Remus that he could be trusted.
Severus had, in fact, been utterly true to his word since they had shaken hands on it the previous day. He had gone through the routine of the Abbey with what appeared to be genuine interest, asking insightful questions during the discussions and sometimes even appearing to enjoy them. That had surprised Remus almost as much as the fact that Severus had not uttered a single word to him that wasn't innocent of even a hint of provocation, nor had Remus found himself the subject of any dark, lustful glances or inadvertent touches.
It was no doubt foolish to let down his guard so swiftly, but Remus couldn't help finding his attitude toward Severus softening. He might come to rue it in the end, but at the moment, the sight of Severus doing something like praying for forgiveness moved him deeply.
Remus crossed in front of the altar, pausing to genuflect in respect before turning and heading up the aisle, head bowed. His unhurried steps soon brought him to Severus' row, and Remus reached into the pocket of his robe, removing his own rosary as he slid into the pew and knelt on the padded rail beside Severus. He didn't look at the other man, merely finding his place on the rosary and lending his voice to Severus' prayer.
Severus glanced sidelong at Remus, surprised that Remus had joined him at all, much less begun to pray with him. He assumed Remus would spend as little time with him as he could get away with and avoid him as much as possible. Was this perhaps a positive sign? Severus had been keeping his promise, after all, and perhaps Remus was coming to trust him a little as a result.
He finished the prayer and lowered his rosary as he turned his head to look at Remus, fixing him with a quizzical gaze. "Trying to give my supplication a little boost to make certain it reaches the right ears?" he asked, teasing lightly rather than mocking this time.
"If you're the reason Father Michael looked as though he'd just been hit by a bus, I figured a little assistance wouldn't go amiss," Remus replied, lips twitching slightly as he tried to keep from smiling. He never thought he would hear Severus Snape actually teasing, and he was surprised to find he liked it. It made Severus seem less threatening, somehow.
Replacing his rosary in his pocket, Remus glanced toward the altar before once more looking back at Severus. "I want to thank you. For keeping your word. I honestly had not expected you to go to Confession, nor to say a penance." He paused, wondering how much he should - or could, with safety - say, and then he decided to follow his instincts. "I haven't given you enough credit for your sincerity, and for that, I am sorry."
"You are hardly the first to underestimate me," Severus replied, tucking his own rosary away. "I do appreciate the apology, however. I promised I would take the retreat seriously, and I have done."
He paused, gazing at the altar without really seeing it as he considered the events of the day. "It wasn't so bad," he admitted, deciding a concession on his part might help Remus relax a little more. "Unburdening oneself to an objective listener with guaranteed confidentiality does have its appeal, especially for one who has long lacked a confidante."
"Yes, it does," Remus agreed. He rose from the kneeling rail, but only to settle back on the wooden pew now that they were done praying, and he raised a brow at Severus in invitation. "I also find that performing penance helps as well. To be able to feel you're acknowledging your mistakes, atoning for them, and then trying to never perform them again. I suppose that's the purpose of all faith, isn't it, whatever its source? To help make you a better person, to help you find peace within yourself."
"I don't particularly feel a need to perform penance," Severus replied. "I found counting the rosary soothing in the same way I find brewing a potion soothing, but I acknowledged my mistakes long ago and have spent the ensuing years in atonement."
He fell silent, thinking about the wars and all that Dumbledore asked him to do, and when he spoke again, his voice was deep and somber. "My road to Damascus was located in Albus' office," he said, speaking more to himself than to Remus as he gazed at the crucifix over the altar and remembered the Bible stories he'd learnt as a child. "Since then, I have committed sins, but I have no doubt God will forgive me for them whether I offer visible signs of penance and remorse or not. I sinned so that Good would conquer Evil, and I took no pleasure in them. Surely He will forgive me under the circumstances."
Remus nodded in sympathy. The fact that Severus had had a very real conversion was no surprise, given the fact that he had gone from being one of Voldemort's faithful to fighting the Dark Lord with equal fervor. He could also relate to the feelings Severus had about the things he had done during the war, for he had a similar conversation with Abbot Young long ago.
"There are things which must be done in defense of a cause which is just and right," Remus replied. His gaze, too, went to the crucifix. "Some of us are called upon to die for it, while others of us are required to kill. So long as there is no joy in killing for its own sake, I think you're correct." He paused, and then he looked at Severus once again. "Actually, though, I wasn't speaking of the war, more of the sins we commit each day. A normal man rarely has to suffer with killing on his conscience, no matter what the reason for it. But other sins, such as lying and cheating, failing to do good when it is asked of us... that's where I find penance can help."
"Why?" Severus raised one eyebrow, giving him a long, sardonic look. "Do you lie and cheat so often? I know about your tendency to fail in doing good, so perhaps you have a point there," he added pointedly.
Remus couldn't help flushing at that. He knew the truth of it, and even though he had confessed long ago, he still felt embarrassment and remorse for his failures.
"No man is perfect, and I have learned from my past, believe it or not," Remus replied, and then he sighed. "Lying and cheating aren't my major failings, though. Pride and anger are where I stumble most often, to my shame."
Whether Remus had intended the remark as a jab or not, it hit a little too close to home for Severus. "And mine aren't?" he retorted, giving a little snort. "Everyone has failings because we are all human and prone to flaws. I won't do penance for being what God made me. All I will - and can - do is strive not to make the same stupid mistakes over and over."
He folded his arms and sank down in the pew, grumbling quietly. "Which is exceedingly difficult to do when one is surrounded by dunderheads and arrogant little-" He remembered where he was and cut himself off. "At any rate, it isn't easy, nor have I always tried to resist the temptation to give in to my anger and pride. Sometimes," he said in a softer tone, "they were all I had."
Remus couldn't repress a smile at the way Severus bit off his diatribe. Obviously Severus did have more respect for the Church than Remus had thought, and that warmed him to his soul.
"Yes, you are what God made you, as am I," Remus said. "But we also have free will. Once we reach maturity, what we become is by our own deeds and the decisions we make. I tend to think of my pride and anger as being like my lycanthropy. They are part of me, but whether I give in to them or not, whether I master them or let them master me is my decision, my problem to overcome or my sin to commit."
"On that point, we agree," Severus said, nodding. "Although I don't consider them sins as you do. That seems unnecessarily harsh." He turned slightly so he could study Remus, debating whether he ought to rock the boat when things seemed to be going smoothly between them. But then he shrugged and decided he might as well. He had limited time, and he needed to make the most of it.
"Why can you not overcome your flaws outside of these walls?" he asked. "Is the temptation so great that you need a safety net?"
Remus drew in a breath; he had almost forgotten the purpose which Severus claimed had brought him here. Part of him wished that Severus had left the subject alone, but then, Severus hadn't agreed not to ask questions which would make Remus uncomfortable. Remus had, in fact, agreed to a give and take, and since Severus had kept his word, Remus must also honor his.
Letting his breath out in a sigh, Remus looked away, letting his eyes roam over the familiar columns, the Stations of the Cross, the statues of the Holy Mother and St. Joseph which flanked the altar with their racks of candles burning before them. Each of those flickering lights was a prayer, an appeal to the most high for intercession on behalf of one of his children on Earth. A symbol of the hope of man for the loving comfort of his Father and Savior.
"It's not a safety net, Severus, despite what you think," Remus replied quietly. "It is a sanctuary, a place where great good can be done for the benefit of all. There is healing here, and belonging, work to be done and peace to be had. What do I have outside these walls? No home, no family, no job, and no place to belong."
He looked at Severus; if Severus were asking him to face what had brought him here, then Severus could deal with his own part in it; but there was no accusation in Remus' voice, only quiet acceptance. "The only other place I ever had those things was Hogwarts. Need I remind you how that ended?"
"At least when you left, you had not just killed your benefactor, and you weren't being pursued as a murderer and traitor," Severus pointed out. If Remus wanted to play the one-up game, Severus knew he could trump Remus every time. "I used Hogwarts as a safe haven as well, but I have since learnt that I can create my own haven wherever I am."
He fell silent, wanting to speak the words that rose to his lips, but he wondered if perhaps it was too soon. Then again, he thought, he hadn't made his intentions clear, and perhaps if he did, Remus might be more amenable to listening. He decided to proceed cautiously, beginning with a careful question.
"If you could have those things, or at least most of them, outside of this place, would the thought appeal to you at all?"
"Yes, the way you left was worse," Remus agreed quietly. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that Severus would rather play one-up with him than apologize for outing Remus, but he found himself vaguely disappointed by it. "I'm glad you found your bliss elsewhere... as I have found mine."
Severus' second question was far more uncomfortable than his first had been, but Remus tried to face it honestly, to examine his conscience as he would before going to confession. He wasn't certain that Severus had earned his trust to that extent, but Remus did not want to burden his soul with a lie. "I don't know," he said, looking down at his hands. "It has never been a question I haven't had need to ask myself, because there has never been anyone asking before. I love it here, but that doesn't mean I hate being everywhere else. My path has lead me to this and given me all the things I thought I would never have. God is the only one who never abandoned me in my despair; no one and nothing else has ever given me reason to have that much faith."
"Humans are fallible and make mistakes," Severus said quietly. He understood Remus' perspective - all too well - and he wanted to change everything, to restore Remus' faith in humanity, but he knew Remus had no reason to trust him now.
He wanted to reach out and touch Remus' hand, not with the intent to seduce, but to offer a physical representation of the connection he felt they shared; he even lifted his own hand before remembering his promise, and he let it fall to his lap again.
"Myself included," he continued in the same deep, quiet tone, pitching his voice to match the intimacy of their discussion. "I have made mistakes out of anger and pride. Some of them involved you. I cannot promise I have overcome my two greatest flaws, but I had hoped when I found you again that things could be different between us."
He lifted his gaze to meet Remus' eyes, holding it, and while there was no desire gleaming in his dark eyes, his gaze was intense nonetheless. "I sought you with the intention of offering you those things we have both always lacked: a home, a family, stability, a place to belong that we cannot be driven out of."
And love. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't utter them. Not yet. It was too soon, and he knew Remus wasn't ready to hear them.
Remus could not have been more surprised if Severus had suddenly slapped him.
"You..." His mouth worked, but he couldn't seem to form a coherent phrase, so deep was his shock at Severus' admission of his true purpose for finding Remus. Part of him responded to it, to the quiet sincerity of Severus' tone and the way Severus looked at Remus as though he were really seeing Remus as a man, as a person worth having for his own sake. There was no hint of anything sexual about it, which was different than when Severus had kissed him or tried to unsettle him with his claims of "wanting" Remus. Those had been surprisingly hard to deal with, but in a way, this was even more devastating.
Mind whirling, Remus closed his eyes, trying to deal with the warring emotions and impulses in his heart and soul. He couldn't even begin to sort out the chaos, a churning mixture of disbelief and desire, of incredulity and yearning. Part of him wanted to reach out and grab what Severus was offering him, something he never believed anyone would want with him, but another part wanted to run away, to flee what had to be a trick, an offer designed to lure him away and destroy him.
Why me? Of all the people in the world, why me?
Opening his eyes, Remus forced himself to look at Severus, realizing suddenly that he had voiced that question aloud.
Severus silently damned the restrictions on touch, wanting nothing more than to reach out to Remus now, to soothe away his obvious confusion with a gentle stroke of his cheek or hair. Instead, he shifted in the pew to sit facing Remus, one leg tucked beneath him as he turned his undivided attention on Remus, watching him intently in an effort to convey his sincerity.
"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, cocking his head quizzically. "We are much alike under the skin, you and I. It took me long enough, but I finally figured it out. I haven't met anyone in the world who could suit me as well as you do, and I think I could suit you as well, provided you were willing to put up with my earthly flaws. I find you attractive as well - physically and intellectually. Now that I have learnt to look at you without the baggage of our past obscuring the view, you are handsome in my eyes, and I realized I want to be with you."
He stretched his arm along the back of the pew, reaching out to yet not touching Remus. "I have a home and a job," he added. "I can offer you that security."
After being pardoned, Severus had been at a loss for what to do with his life. Returning to Hogwarts was out of the question, and he wasn't suited for working in trade. He had been adrift, but to his surprise, the Ministry had offered him a job in the Magical Law Enforcement division. He didn't have the training or temperament to be an Auror, but he was more than qualified to be a Hit Wizard, i.e. those who were sent to capture dangerous Wizard criminals. Severus suspected the offer was a sop to make up for his stint in Azkaban combined with an effort to make certain that if any more Dark Wizards showed themselves in future, he would be clearly and identifiably on their side.
Severus had no love for the Ministry, but he was a pragmatic man at heart, and he had accepted the position. It paid well - recompense for the danger inherent in the job, he supposed - and it afforded him time to dabble in potions. It also had allowed him to sell the house at Spinner's End and buy a small, snug cottage in a remote Wizarding village where he had peace, quiet, and privacy in abundance.
Remus felt as though he were in a dream. Perhaps he had fallen asleep at prayers and had imagined this entire thing from the time Severus had accosted him in the garden until this moment. It wasn't just the offer of things Remus thought he would never have, or the quiet conviction with which it was being offered, but the fact that it was Severus Snape offering it... and that a part of Remus ached with the desire to accept.
It was impossible, and the confusion was suddenly too much for Remus. "I... I can't," he murmured, surging to his feet with unaccustomed awkwardness. "Sorry, I... I have to go." With that, he stumbled from the pew, and then he fled from the back of the chapel as though running from demons... or perhaps just his own conscience.
Severus watched Remus flee the chapel, his expression thoughtful. Once again, he seemed to have caused Remus to run off, but as before, he decided to rely less on what Remus said and more on what he didn't say. "I can't" was an entirely different response from "No" or "I won't" or "I don't want that" in Severus' opinion, and he held out hope that what he had offered appealed to Remus on some level, whether Remus wanted to admit it or not.
It was a setback, but hopefully not a major one. He still had a few days left to convince Remus that his offer was real, and he didn't intend to give up until Remus took away all hope for good. One of his earthly flaws was stubbornness, after all, and this time, he intended for it to work in his favor.
Kneeling on the floor of his room, head bowed over his clasped hands, Remus continued to pray as he had for the last several hours. Unfortunately his pleas for calm and understanding went unanswered, leaving him in a turmoil of confusion and conflicting desires.
Finally giving up the fight, Remus rose with a groan, his knees protesting his long stillness on the hard stone of the floor. He hobbled to his bed, nearly falling upon it. Laying back against the pillow, Remus threw an arm over his eyes to block out the light, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath and wondering if God had a perverse sense of humor to lead him to what he thought was a new life, and then suddenly throw such a bizarre temptation in his path. Only God didn't work like that, and Remus knew it. If anything had precipitated this, it was his own actions in the past, forcing him to reap the consequences of what he had sown in an unexpected way.
I know I could be happy here, with this life, with my faith and my calling, with service and prayer and the brotherhood. I would have purpose and peace, and I would be serving God, submitting myself to His will. I can atone for all the mistakes of my past. I will be part of something greater than myself.
Yet Remus couldn't deny that he could be happy in another life, too. His mind couldn't help conjuring images of himself and Severus, conversing quietly as they had in the chapel, sharing thoughts and ideas. Severus had always fascinated him, the complex workings of Severus' mind and the way he seemed to fight everything in his life drawing Remus in spite of himself. To be honest, Remus had always found him attractive as well, even back to their school days. Perhaps it was the instincts of the wolf that let him look beyond the physical externals which his friends had always mocked, and those externals had changed over the years anyway. One had to take Severus Snape as a whole, not piece by piece. In being honest with himself, Remus had to admit that what Severus was offering him was appealing.
And the wolf had certainly responded to Severus' kiss, and to every time they touched. It would be no hardship to be intimate with Severus, to bare his body, to touch, to taste...
Abruptly Remus snatched his thoughts away from that path. Carnal desire was not the issue here. He had desired many people in the past, and he had slept with several of them. Sex was easy, but a life without it wasn't difficult, as he knew quite well. Sex also did not make a relationship or a life. It was in many ways the slightest part of it, and it would be folly to equate desire with trust or love. Suffice it to say, he would find intimacy with Severus no burden, and leave it at that.
But homosexuality is a sin, in the eyes of the Church.
Sighing, Remus moved his arm, staring up at the ceiling as if it would give him the answers. This, he knew, was something that many men in the past had wrestled with, turning to their faith as a way to escape a part of themselves that very faith taught them was wrong.
Remus' perspective on it had partially been shaped by his parish priest as a teen, when Remus had been wrestling with his own sexuality. Father Ambrose had been a young man and rather liberal, but what set him apart in some ways was how deeply he believed that God loved all his children equally.
"God has a hand in our creation," Father Ambrose had told him. "He set his seal upon us, and we are all his beloved children. Does God turn his back on the imperfect among us? The blind, the lame, the sick and suffering, because they are imperfect? Does He look at what our trials are and despise us for what we must make of our lives in order to deal with them? No, He does not. Love is the greatest gift God has given to us. As long as you do not makes the mistake of confusing the desires of the body with the true emotions of the heart, I cannot believe it wrong to love wherever your heart leads. Whatever choices you make, Remus, and through every trial, remember that God's love is not conditional."
Father Ambrose hadn't known about Remus' lycanthropy, of course, but somehow those words had comforted Remus as much on that score as they had on the subject of sexuality. In the end, Remus had come to believe that sexuality was perhaps something like lycanthropy, a part of him that he did not choose and could not control, but simply was.
So it would be no different, in Remus' eyes, if it were a woman offering him what Severus was, rather than a man. The issue was far greater, a matter of choices and free will and doing what was right.
So what is right? What am I going to do?
That was the crux of the problem. Remus knew that if his path was so certain in his own eyes, Severus would be unable to tempt him. Which meant that in his heart, Remus must hold some doubt about the rightness of his choice. That didn't mean that joining the brotherhood wasn't that correct path; it meant that a part of Remus must wish for something different, and that part had never expressed itself before since there had never been any question.
None of which offered a solution.
The words of Father Ambrose came back to him, and Remus sighed.
I don't love Severus, and what he offered me didn't include love on his part, either. But... what could be, if his offer were sincere? Could it happen? Do I truly believe that? Or is this some game of Severus' after all, meant to lure me from my path? He knows me so well. He knows just what to say to tear my world apart.
Can I trust that isn't what he intended all along?
Remus didn't think Severus wished him ill, nor that Severus would go to these kind of lengths just for vengeance, but... there was still that niggling doubt there, and the knowledge that Remus had been wrong before. Trust wasn't easy, and in this case, Remus had to trust not only Severus, but his own judgment. Never in his life had Remus felt so uncertain, so torn, as though he were poised on the precipice of his life, where making the wrong decision, one way or the other, would leave him forever doubting that what he had done was the right thing in the end.
In the distance, the Angelus bell rang, its sweet tones gracing the air with its eternal celebration of God's love, calling the brotherhood to the first devotion of a day which would be filled with prayer. Remus hesitated for a long moment, wondering if he should answer the summons, if he even had the right to do so when he felt so torn. As the bell continued, however, Remus sat up, and then he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
There were no answers here in the loneliness of his room, but that didn't mean there might not be an answer elsewhere. Perhaps in the course of the day, it would come to him, a flash of knowledge or insight to let him know what he should do. It wasn't an option to not make a choice, in the end; all Remus could do was hope - and pray - that he would make the right one.
After Remus' hasty departure from the sanctuary, Severus decided perhaps giving Remus time to think about their discussion and Severus' offer without any pressure was a wise idea. Thus when he wasn't attending lectures or learning about the details of monastic life, he had spent his time performing the penance assigned to him and reading books from the monastery's library. Burying his nose in a book, especially if it was a book about religious doctrine, was the best way of making certain he was left alone by the other men on retreat.
All he had to do if they tried to engage him in conversation was look up from his book and ask their opinion on the case brought forth in 1278 regarding whether personal weapons may be blessed for greater efficacy in striking down unbelievers in a Holy War. That was enough to make them flee, and after one or two times, it was enough to make them give him a wide berth.
The truth was, he could see the appeal of the quiet, orderly life here. He had spent many years following the routine of Hogwarts, so strict schedules were not unfamiliar to him, and the corridors of the monastery were far less raucous than the corridors of the school. Here, he didn't have to worry about anyone spilling expensive potions ingredients or tormenting each other with Zonko products while they jostled their way to their next class. The company of monks was, in his opinion, far preferable to the company of spotty-faced adolescents with nothing on their puerile little minds but Quidditch, pranks, and sex.
But as peaceful as life here was, it was not for him. After decades of servitude, he chafed far too easily under restrictions, and he was too outspoken for the level of silence and obedience the monastery required. His volatile nature might be a sin, but he had no desire to squelch it under vows and threats of penance. He had had enough of serving a master and being told what to do for one lifetime; he was free, and he intended to remain that way.
The problem was that Remus didn't seem to agree with him on that point. He had hoped that Remus would wake up and realize it was pain and fear causing him to hide away from the world, not a call from God. The still, small voice Remus was hearing was his own wounded heart. But Severus' time was running out.
Tomorrow was the last day of the retreat; if Remus hadn't changed his mind by then, Severus would have no choice but to give up and leave. But he didn't intend to go without one last fight, and with renewed determination, he set off to find Remus.
Two days of little to no sleep were taking their toll on Remus, causing him to drag himself from his room, to prayers, to meals, then back to his room again. He hadn't returned to the rooms where the retreat was being held, and when he went to prayers, he sat on the opposite site of the sanctuary from those attending. Keeping his distance hadn't meant he was unaware of Severus, however; he seemed to be able to unerringly lock on to Severus whenever they were in the same room together. It was as though the wolf had somehow become attuned to Severus' presence, and Remus found his eyes straying from his prayers and duties far more than they should.
Unfortunately, watching Severus didn't bring him any closer to an answer as to where his true path lay. Neither did being away from Severus, or working, or praying, or tossing restlessly in his bed. Soul searching was getting him nowhere, but he felt he had no other recourse at this point than to keep at it. Ignoring the problem wouldn't make it go away... and Severus' actions had proved that he was certainly not the type to allow himself to be ignored.
The retreat was nearly over, but Remus wasn't certain if Severus would depart at that point or not. No one would force him to go, since guests were never cast out of the Abbey. If he so wished, Severus could remain here, watching Remus and tempting him right up until Remus went into the chapel to take his vows.
Needing to be alone, he skipped tea, choosing instead to go out into the gardens, to walk in the fresh air and sunshine, hoping that it would renew his energy since sleep had proven elusive. It was a beautiful day, the scent of flowers hung heavily in the air, and with a sigh, Remus lowered himself onto a stone bench in the middle of a carefully tended cluster of rosebushes. Closing his eyes, he let his head slump forward, the sun beating down on his head and shoulders warmly. In that peace, he relaxed for the first time in what felt like years, his exhausted mind finally going blank as he slipped into a light doze.
It took a fair bit of searching, but Severus finally spotted Remus sitting on a stone bench amid some rose bushes, and as he drew nearer, he could see that Remus was asleep. He approached quietly, trying to decide whether to wake Remus or let him sleep uninterrupted, although the question of why Remus had dozed off in the middle of the afternoon was an interesting one. Perhaps he was suffering from sleepless nights?
He sat down on the bench beside Remus, careful to keep enough distance between them that Remus couldn't accuse him of breaking the no touching rule, and he spoke in a quiet but firm voice.
"Remus, wake up. The retreat is nearly over, and I want to talk to you before I go."
A deep voice roused Remus, and he opened his eyes slightly, lifting his head to find Severus sitting near him, the sun behind him lending reddish lights to his dark hair so that he almost looked like he wore a halo of flame. "I'm dreaming," he murmured, blinking slowly and heavily. "Are you the devil, Severus? Do you offer me damnation or salvation?"
Severus' eyebrows climbed at that unexpected question, and his thin lips quirked upward. "Neither," he replied. "I am a mere mortal. Salvation is not mine to give, and damnation is your own responsibility. All I offer is-"
He hesitated, his innate reticence warning him of the dangers of saying too much, but he had so little time left in which to convince Remus of his sincerity. Before he had set out on his quest to find Remus, he had decided he would take whatever risks necessary to win Remus; he couldn't shirk now that the crucial moment of truth had arrived. It was literally now or never for him, and holding back could cost him everything.
"Belonging. Stability. Purpose." He hesitated again. "Love."
Remus blinked again, Severus' words washing over him as warmly as the sunlight. It must be a dream, for he couldn't imagine Severus saying what he had in the waking world. Another blink, and then Remus shook his head sharply, trying to clear his hazy thoughts. When he glanced back over, he was surprised to see Severus was still there, that he hadn't disappeared like a spectre.
"I..." Remus stopped, drawing in a breath before his tongue ran away with him. He really was here, sitting in the garden, and Severus was on the bench next to him. But how much of that conversation had been real, and how much a dream? "I don't know what to do."
Severus shifted on the bench, turning to face Remus, and wished for the thousandth time that he could bridge the gulf between them with a touch. Remus appeared dazed and vulnerable, and Severus wanted nothing more than to pull Remus into his arms. But he had made a promise, and so he leaned closer instead.
Remus' words were not exactly what Severus wanted to hear, but they were better than an outright refusal. It was time to press his point and give Remus more to think about.
"You must listen to what your heart wants," he said. "I don't mean the shattered part of it that has been urging you to run away and hide, either. That part will mend in time, and then you may have cause to regret decisions made when your wounds were raw. Listen to the voice beneath the pain. What does it want you to do? Remain within these quiet walls where you will be surrounded by people, yet have no attachments? Safe, yes, but hardly fulfilling for one who has always craved affection and companionship. Or does it want you to take a risk on finding a close, nourishing attachment with me?"
"Risk." Remus repeated the word softly, knowing that was the crux of the matter in many ways. How odd to hear Severus of all people urging him to follow his heart, rather than to use his head, to rely on emotion rather than logic!
"It's been three years, Severus. I don't believe my decisions are being made rashly in a moment of pain," he said, shrugging. "If they were, it would probably be a lot easier than it is."
He knew he was avoiding the real question, but he seemed to lack the energy to confront it directly. He felt a temptation at this point to lean closer to Severus, to let Severus use his persuasion to take the decision out of Remus' hands. Whether it was truth or lie that Severus uttered, Remus knew it wouldn't take much in the weariness of his soul to give over to what Severus wanted, to let Severus take the responsibility for whatever happened after, for good or ill.
Leaning toward Severus, Remus lifted one hand slightly as though he wanted to touch. He did, and he didn't, and Remus forced himself to move back once more, dropping his hand and then clenching both of them together in his lap. Yes, it would be easy to make Severus take responsibility for Remus' choice... but it would also be wrong.
"I don't love you," he said, uttering the bald truth of it. Perhaps if he couldn't make up his own mind, he could cause Severus to change his.
Severus pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and struck a dramatic pose. "He doesn't love me. Woe!" Letting out a derisive snort, he shook his head. "I don't expect you to love me," he said, his tone matter of fact once more. "I am merely asking for a chance to see if you might grow to love me. I happen to think we would be quite good together, and I would like to try. However, there is always the risk that you will not fall in love with me, no matter how well we get on or how fantastic the sex is. I am prepared to take that risk, thus it is up to you to decide if you are as well."
He glanced down and picked idly at a patch of moss growing on the shaded edge of the bench. "If not, then I will leave tomorrow when the retreat officially ends, and you will not hear from me again." He glanced up at Remus again, a wry, mirthless smile tugging his lips. "You needn't worry the serpent will keep appearing in the garden to tempt you."
Remus was surprised again when Severus didn't respond with anger to his blatant declaration, but rather with sardonic humor; he didn't want to hurt Severus, no matter what Severus' purpose toward him was. Yet nothing had changed, not really. Remus was still torn, still uncertain.
"I see," he said finally, realizing that he owed Severus a response. He reached up with a hand to rub his forehead. Severus seemed to be willing to gamble recklessly on a matter that would affect the rest of his life, but from what he had seen, Severus had less to lose. Or maybe he was just far more confident about himself and his future than Remus had ever been.
The wolf within was urging Remus to take the offer, to damn the consequences and grab the moment. Remus could feel it rising within him, for the wolf found Severus more than acceptable as a potential mate. But the wolf was only a part of him, a part which he controlled.
Rising to his feet, Remus turned to look down at Severus. "Tomorrow, then," he said, wondering if he would actually have any answers by then. "The retreat ends right after lunch, and I will meet you here in the garden."
Severus nodded somberly, realizing this was as good a response as he could hope to get at this point. It wasn't an outright no, and as long as Remus was still considering the possibilities, there was hope that his confusion would resolve itself into a definite "yes".
"Very well," he said, rising and moving to stand close to Remus, letting Remus feel his warmth without breaking his promise with a touch. "I will be here, waiting in hope."
The wolf reacted to feeling the heat of Severus' body, and Remus swallowed and stepped back. "Right. I... I hope you have a good evening, Severus."
Turning, Remus walked slowly back toward the guesthouse. He would call and have himself excused from the rest of the activities for the evening in order to continue his lone vigil in searching his heart. Perhaps this time, if he didn't give up faith, he would find an answer.
Remus had spent all night and all morning in prayer. He had searched his heart, searched Scripture, searched the ceiling of his room with such diligence that he knew every slight irregularity in the smooth white surface as well as he knew the back of his hand. He had prayed for guidance, for help, for release - but his prayers had remained unanswered.
As the time he would meet Severus grew closer, Remus finally had to admit that he still didn't know what to do. In a way, he supposed that he didn't owe Severus an answer, given that Severus was the one who had burst into his life and turned it upside down. Yet it was part of Remus now to deal fairly with everyone, to be as honest as he could no matter what the circumstances.
There was nothing for it now except to meet with Severus and tell him the truth.
Rising, Remus showered and dressed, and then he walked slowly toward the garden. His mind felt empty - not peaceful, not anything that positive. But since he already knew the answer he must give, there was no sense fretting about it any longer.
Severus paced back and forth in front of the stone bench while he waited for Remus to arrive. The retreat was over; some of the young men had opted to stay longer for more tutelage, a couple had decided to accept the vocation, and the rest, like Severus, would be leaving. Now all that remained was for Severus to speak with Remus and find out whether he had made a decision and whether it was a favorable one.
He had tried sitting, but it hadn't lasted long. He wasn't accustomed to being nervous and restless, but his heart was on the line, and this was a definitive moment, one that would shape his future and determine whether he would live out the rest of his life with his chosen, most desired companion, or whether he would be alone.
As time for Remus' arrival drew near, he forced himself to stop pacing, rubbed his palms on his trousers, and sat down, years of long practice at deception allowing him to give the appearance of a calm he certainly did not feel.
Remus moved slowly toward the garden, feeling as though he were swimming upstream. His feet seemed to hesitate of their own accord, and only his promise to meet Severus kept him from turning and fleeing.
Even now, even after all he had learned in his life about himself and others, even through he didn't fully know if he could trust Severus' sincerity, Remus hated to tell people things they didn't wish to hear. Honesty compelled him to do it, of course, but it didn't mean that Remus liked it. He had always been too eager to please, and instead of saying anything unpleasant to people he cared about, he had always opted for silence whenever possible. That had lead to his initial problems with Severus, but unfortunately, even silence wasn't going to help him now.
Rounding the edge of the garden gate, he could see Severus ahead, sitting on the bench they had occupied yesterday afternoon. He looked strangely serene, but Remus couldn't tell if it were confidence or merely Severus' hard-won mask slipping into place. Remus approached quietly, moving to stand before Severus and clasping his hands in front of himself, unconsciously like that of a penitent coming to confession.
"Hello, Severus," he said softly. He tried for a smile, but it came out hesitant, his eyes betraying his vulnerability and inner conflict.
One look at Remus' face, and Severus knew this conversation would not go well for him. Remus looked as if he was coming to his own execution, his smile watery and his eyes filled with vulnerability. It was not the look of a man come to deliver good news.
Severus released a slow sigh as he rose to his feet and faced Remus, bracing himself for the blow. "I believe I can guess what you're about to say," he said quietly, no hint of recrimination in his voice.
Remus sighed, almost wishing Severus would scream at him as he had in years past rather than sound as though he understood. "I'm sorry," he said. "I have prayed and searched my heart and done everything I can, but I just don't know what to do. It's not you, Severus; it's me. I always thought I knew myself very well, but now I look within, and I see a stranger. For three years, I have been certain of my path, the kind of certainty that I always thought unshakable. The very fact that you have managed to shake me out of my serenity is a feat in itself, but I can't honestly say right now if that is enough for either of us."
"I could argue," Severus said, gazing at Remus steadily. "I could say that if you have been shaken from a path you thought certain, perhaps it is a sign this path is not the right one for you after all, but I imagine you have already thought of that."
He paused, studying Remus silently for a moment. The retreat was over, which meant he was no longer bound by the promises he had made, and he reached out and rested his hands on Remus' shoulders, squeezing gently. "I doubt there is much of anything I could say that you haven't already thought of. But as much as I would like to knock you over the head and carry you off, this must be your decision, and it isn't as if I don't understand your reticence."
The weight of their personal history and his own past behavior weighed heavily upon Severus' shoulders now; he knew Remus would have faced a difficult decision no matter who had come to coax him back into the world, but that it was Severus made it even more difficult. There was so much baggage to sort through, and they had only had a week under less than ideal conditions.
He rubbed Remus' upper arms, wanting to enjoy the contact while he could. "Let me say this, and then I will have done. Whatever you may think of me, I am sincere in my intentions. You haven't asked what I have been doing since the war, and now isn't the time to tell you, but suffice to say, you aren't the only one who has examined his faith and engaged in extensive soul-searching. In the process, I faced a great many things I had tried to ignore before, and one of them was my long-standing attraction to and desire for you. I could love you easily, I think, given the chance. In fact, I am already poised to fall," he said, his voice quiet and deep, laden with all the emotion he couldn't yet express. "But I don't want only half of you, with the rest of you remaining here and wondering 'what if'. I admit my own selfishness: I would rather give you up entirely than not have all of you."
Remus gazed at Severus somberly, absorbing the touch and the words and feeling the truth of them. This was a different side of Severus, one that Remus had never witnessed before. A caring side, one full of yearning, and that appealed to Remus more than he had ever thought possible. It also didn't hurt for Severus to admit his feelings, but Remus knew that Severus was right. Remus couldn't give half of himself to Severus and half to God; none of them would be satisfied with that.
"Thank you," he said, his voice soft. He reached up hesitantly, laying one hand against Severus' cheek, almost as though he were afraid to touch Severus in return. "Severus, I... I don't know what's going to happen to me, but you're right. I've thought of all the things you mentioned. I've prayed over them, wept over them, and I still feel as though I'm being torn apart. I know I'm going to have to make a decision soon, whether it is to stay with the Church, to follow you, or to do something else entirely. But I need more time to think and to pray, to find my way through this confusion. And I do agree with you - I will only give all of myself, no matter which I choose. If I cannot be wholehearted about a path, I will not choose it."
Severus leaned against Remus' hand; it was the the first time Remus had touched him voluntarily, and he savored the warmth and the significance of the gesture. Remus was confused, but at least he hadn't dismissed Severus out of hand, and while Severus wasn't entirely confident of his chances in the end, at least there was still some hope remaining to him.
"If you need more time, take it," he said, releasing his hold on Remus' arms. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out a slip of paper and held it out. "Here, take this. It is information on how to contact me. Once I leave, I will not return, and you will not hear from me again. If I hear nothing from you by the day you are meant to take your vows, I will assume I have my answer."
Slowly Remus reached out and took the paper, his fingers brushing against Severus'. The contact felt electric, and Remus swallowed against a sudden ache in his heart. No matter what happened, he knew he was going to miss Severus. For all that Severus had thrown his life into chaos, Remus couldn't deny that he did feel a connection to Severus; he just wasn't certain if it was strong enough to satisfy them both.
"All right." He offered Severus a rather lopsided smile. "I don't know what else to say, really. It all feels so strange to me right now. I suppose I know now how the man in the Frost poem felt about his choice of roads - and knowing that no matter which one he took, he would never come back to the other again."
"An apt analogy," Severus replied. "However, I believe most of us wonder what might have been had we made different choices. I certainly have."
He fell silent for a moment, debating the wisdom of what he wanted to do next, but considering he might never see Remus again, he thought perhaps flinging caution to the wind was not inappropriate.
Framing Remus' face between his hands, he bent and kissed Remus - not the fiery, demanding kiss he had bestowed on that first night, but rather a light, almost reverential kiss. It was slow and unhurried, and he savored the taste of Remus' lips, stroking Remus' cheeks gently with his thumbs.
Remus wasn't surprised by this kiss the way he had been by the first one. Perhaps it was a sign of how much his perceptions and beliefs had changed in the last week that he not only anticipated it, but he met Severus halfway. It wasn't a kiss of desire, but it warmed Remus in a way that was deeper and far more moving than sex. It felt good and right, and Remus was regretful when it ended.
"I'll let you know as soon as I can, Severus," Remus said. "I promise. And in the meantime, I hope you take care of yourself. You deserve happiness, no matter what."
"As do you," Severus replied. "The wars have taken much from both of us. It is high time, in my estimation, that we found some peace and happiness somewhere, even if it is not with each other."
Although I hope it is, he thought. Still, he felt certain Remus meant his words, and Severus was equally sincere in his response. Unfortunately, there was nothing more to be said; he had made his case, and what happened now was out of his hands. He disliked the lack of control, but there was nothing for it, and he certainly wasn't going to pester Remus into acquiescing, tempting a thought as it might be.
"I hope this is not the last time we see one another," he said. "But if it is, then I bid you good-bye."
Remus nodded, then impulsively he reached up, laying his thumb lightly upon Severus' forehead and making the sign of the cross there. "Peace be with you, Severus," he replied. As he lowered his hand once more, he brushed his fingertips over Severus' cheek before forcing himself to turn away.
His slow, measured footsteps carried him away from Severus and back toward the chapel, toward the waiting brotherhood and the life Remus had once chosen - but whether they would carry him back to Severus again was something that at this moment, only God could know.