ten

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Snape's fist sounded against the dark oak wood of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom door, echoing from the cold stone walls. The professor didn't bother to wait for an answer before he pushed it open and stepped inside.

Remus was sitting at his desk, marking essays from the third years and actually quite enjoying it. Seeing students be interested in the subject he loved most at Hogwarts felt strangely rewarding, like he was passing his interest on through his teaching. He looked up to see Snape sauntering towards him, as he stood from his desk chair with a polite smile.

"Severus." He greeted with a nod of his head, leaning his back against the front of his desk and stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets.

Snape's top lip curled in disgust, "Lupin." He snarled.

Remus tried not to laugh at his colleague's obvious distaste for him, "What can I help you with?"

"He's in Hogsmeade." Snape narrowed his eyes at his fellow professor, watching for a small crack in his unbothered demeanour. He knew that Remus was in on it, he had to be - he just needed to prove it so that he could go to Dumbledore and get the dirty dogs gone for good.

Remus knew exactly what Snape was talking about, or who for that matter, but decided to feign his innocence nonetheless. He looked at him with furrowed brows, watching as the annoyance crept onto Snape's features.

Snape took a menacing step towards Remus, "You're helping him!"

Remus had his hand over his wand on the desk behind him, his fingers digging into the smooth wood, just in case. He was aware of how much Snape hated him, the feeling being mutual, and wasn't quite sure if he was capable of snapping or not.

"You're delusional, Severus!" He countered, his voice and façade still calm - unlike Snape, whose features were contorting angrier with each passing moment.

"Sirius Black deserves to rot in Azkaban." Snape snarled, his eyes boring into Remus'. If looks could kill, Remus would drop dead.

Snape continued, his words sounding almost venomous, "Along with you and the rest of them. Potter deserved what was coming to him, I would have done it myself if I could."

Remus' fingers quickly closed around his wand, pointing the wooden weapon straight at Snape. The hook-nosed professor only smirked; He had wanted to speak to Remus with the intention of finding out the truth, but simply hitting a nerve would do.

"I know you're helping him." Snape continued, completely unfazed by the wand aimed straight at his chest, "And I will make sure neither of you see sunlight again."

Severus was about to turn around and walk away, bored of the conversation and annoyed that he couldn't get Remus to confess what he knew to be true, when his eyes lowered to something resting against the oak wood of Remus' desk.

He recognised the bag immediately - a deep blue fabric with small, grey flowers embroidered in the front corner. Wren. She wore that bag pretty much everywhere.

Without even giving Remus a chance to blink, Snape's wand was pressed up against his chest, the tip uncomfortably pressing into his sternum. Snape had pure fire in his eyes; For once, Remus found himself fearing Snape. He had never seen him this angry before, not even after the prank.

Severus' eyes darted down to Wren's satchel again, as if double checking that what he saw was correct, allowing Remus to follow his gaze. His stomach sank when he realised what he was glaring at, his mind racing with a million thoughts as to what it was exactly that Snape was assuming.

There was no way that he knew the truth.

"You leave her out of this." Snape growled once he realised that Remus knew what had flipped his switch so suddenly.

Remus looked back to the man before him with furrowed brows. Leave her out of this? He couldn't help but laugh. "What?" He scoffed, an innocent reaction that he didn't think would cause Snape's anger to bubble over the edge.

It all happened so quickly - if Remus wasn't as experienced as he was then he surely would have been hexed. Snape bounced back on his heel, orange sparks flying from the tip of his wand and violently connecting with the blue ones sprouting from Remus'.

The two were glaring at each other over the burst of colour, sparks flying absentmindedly around the classroom. Snape's hex was honing in on Remus, his anger fueling the spell quicker than Remus' defence could handle.

Remus broke off the spell, quickly casting a shield charm to prevent the hex from hitting him. As his protection weakened, he quickly muttered another hex as he aimed his wand at Snape. Snape whisked the hex away with a simple flick of his wand, a bright array of yellow sparks crashing into a table and flipping it over with a bang.

Snape shot hex after hex at his opponent, who expertly deflected them over and over again. It was getting tiring, having to protect himself against violent spells over a simple misunderstanding. Snape managed to hit Remus on the side of the face with a small but rather painful cutting hex, causing the man to stumble backwards in surprise.

He could feel the blood dripping down the side of his face from where the spell had clawed at his temple, his wand arm faltering as he struggled to hold steady. Snape watched, intrigued, as the calamity on his fellow professor's face turned to anger, the man before him showing himself to be every bit the monster Snape knew him to be.

The hook nosed professor was now the one struggling to defend himself, his protection spells forming slower than the hexes were hitting him. Blue sparks shot from the end of Remus' wand, a simple stupefy spell that sent Snape's wand flying from his usually firm grip.

Remus moved Wren's bag with his foot from where it was tucked under her desk, sliding it across the wood with a gentle kick.

"Get out." Remus growled through ragged breaths, watching as the man before him grabbed Wren's satchel from the floor by the strap.

Snape turned on his heel, the black fabric of his cloak swaying against his legs from the movement, before sauntering out of the room. He was too proud to stop to pick up his wand.

Remus stared after him, his usually soft brown eyes burning with pure hostility. He throws his wand onto the desk behind him, running ragged hands through his hair with a pained sigh.

The man turned at the sound of Snape's wand vibrating against the wood of the floor, watching as it twitched before it zipped through the air. It flew out of the room, under Snape's Accio spell no doubt, before the large, oak door slammed shut.

*

Rays of orange light were bouncing off the withered cobble of the castle as the sun set over Hogwarts, the moon starting its descent over the parting clouds. Wren was wandering aimlessly around the corridors of the ancient school, running her fingers along the cracks where brick met brick.

She had found herself bored out of her mind without Milo to keep her company, finding herself craving his rambles and endless gossip.

A soft fist sounded against the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Wren's evening walk leading her to Remus. When nobody replied on from the other side of the oak, she gently pushed the door open and let herself in.

Remus was sitting behind his desk, a silver, circular mirror angled upwards and reflecting the bloodied image of the man's forehead. A gash spanned from his temple to the curve of his brow, fresh blood dripping down the side of his face.

"Rough day?" Wren quipped, earning a smile from Remus as his eyes met hers.

"Something like that." He smirked, putting down the small piece of cotton wool that he was cleaning his wound with.

Wren watched for a moment as the man awkwardly dabbed at the raw gash on his forehead with his finger, angling his head in such a way that he could see his reflection in the mirror.

The girl sighed, "Come here."

As she walked toward him, she grabbed a fresh pad of cotton wool from his desk, sitting herself down on his lap. He looked up at her in a mixture of surprise and pleasure, as a rough hand squeezed the top of her thigh.

Wren's hand raised to tuck a strand of her curly hair behind her ear, before she started on cleaning Remus' cut.

"How did you get this one?" She asked aimlessly.

"Hmm?" Remus hummed rather absentmindedly, having to rip his eyes away from where his fingers were tracing sultry patterns onto her thigh.

"The cut." She looked down at him, the brown of her eyes melting into his own, "How did you get it?"

"Ah." He smiled with a raise of his brows, "Just.. being clumsy."

He thought it funny, in the moment, that Wren was comparing his new wound to the other scars on his face - yet this was inflicted through different reasons entirely.

"I never pegged you as the clumsy type, professor." She teased, before grabbing his ointment of choice from the desk behind her. She took a moment as she studied the label stuck to the front of the small, glass bottle.

"Is this the one you used on my arm?" She continued to assess the bottle in her hand, "The ointment with phoenix tears?"

Remus replied with a small shake of his head, "No."

Wren's eyes shot to meet his, her brows furrowed in obvious confusion, "Why not?"

Remus didn't answer. He had no answer. 

"I.." The man fumbled, "I don't know where it is." It was an obvious lie, and he could tell that Wren knew that too. He knew exactly where that ointment was - exactly where it always was. 

It was a strange sort of self harm, denying himself the one ointment that could heal all of his scars. As much as he hated the pink and jagged skin, they acted a reminder of who he really was. A monster.

"Clumsy as well as forgetful?" Wren quipped, shifting her weight slightly on his lap. Remus tilted his head back, Adam's apple distinct under the scarred skin of his neck. He wanted Wren, and her sitting on him wearing nothing but a short skirt and knee high socks was not helping.

Wren noticed the way he struggled to control himself, a small smirk playing on her lips. She slowly stood from his lap, kicking her loafers off as she slowly walked away.

"Where are you going?" Remus was watching her rather intently, the sway of her hips almost hypnotising him.

"Upstairs." She replied, sitting down on the hard wood of the bottom step. Her hands slowly rolled her socks down to her ankles, pulling them off and throwing them over her shoulder as she stood, "You coming?"

She climbed a few more steps, looking down at Remus over the bannister who was still sitting behind his desk. Her thumbs tucked under the waistband of her mini skirt, slowly pushing it down over the curve of her hips. She bent forward, stepping out of the skirt before throwing it behind her, glancing at Remus over her shoulder.

He smirked, "Ok, I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Remus ran up the stairs after Wren who was giggling rather contagiously, a smile spreading across his face without him even realising it.

The only thing covering Wren's lower half was white lace, the buttons of her shirt just begging to be ripped open. Remus was quicker than Wren, his hands snaking around her waist as he flipped her around, her back against the leather of the sofa.

He could have sworn the soft giggles falling from her pink lips made him feel ten pounds lighter, as he kissed at the supple skin of her neck.

"Wait, wait!" She breathed, gently pushing Remus away.

He looked down at her, careful not to hurt her beneath his weight, his eyes practically caressing her face. The palms of her hand pushed a little harder against his chest, coaxing him to sit up.

"I wanna do something." She smiled at him, a rather mischievous glint in her eye.

"Oh?" Remus smirked.

"Wait here." Wren stood from the sofa, Remus' eyes tracking her body as she sauntered away, "No looking!" She squealed with a swat of her hand.

"Alright, alright." Remus' voice was carried through a hearty chuckle, his hands held up in feigned surrender.

Remus found himself listening intently, trying his best to decipher whatever Wren was up to. He heard the soft patter of her bare feet against the floorboards, followed by the quiet creak of a cupboard door. Wren reached into the cupboard, shuffling around a few glass vials with a clink.

Wren walked back over to Remus, straddling him with a leg either side of his lap. He smirked as his fingers gently rubbed along the skin of her outer thigh, looking up at her with eyes of pure admiration.

A bushy eyebrow raised at the girl on his lap as he noticed the brown vial in her hand, Remus moving his hands to rest on the curve of Wren's hips, "What have you got there?"

Wren didn't reply as she squeezed the top of the pipette, gently drawing up the amber liquid before dropping it into a small puddle in her palm. She leant over to place the bottle down on the side table, dipping the top of her manicured finger into the ointment.

Before she could touch it to Remus' face however, his hand was wrapped around her wrist.

"What are you doing?" Any admiration that was previously glistening in the brown of his eyes had disappeared, as his stare turned dark.

"Let me." She whispered, her eyes meeting his for a few moments, Remus' fingers eventually falling away from their hold on Wren's arm.

She dabbed the ointment across where the hex had hit his temple, her touch gentle as not to hurt him, the amber liquid mixing with the thick scarlet of blood.

Her eyes widened slightly in amazement as the jagged edges of cut skin magically stitched back together, the only reminder being the dried drip of blood on his slightly flushed cheek.

Wren's hands cupped Remus' cheeks, the brown waves of her hair falling across the sides of her face. She placed a small kiss where the cut just was, blinking down at him through the flutter of her lashes.

"You could have healed them." Her voice was only quiet, as her eyes scanned the other scars etched into his olive skin.

"I know." He replied, his hands still exploring Wren's hips and thighs.

"Then why didn't you?" She asked with a small quirk of her head, her hair brushing against Remus' jaw.

"Why does anyone do anything?"

Wren sighed, her hands falling flat by her sides as she sat up, "Are we speaking in riddles now, Remus?"

Remus. He wasn't sure if Wren had called him by anything other than Professor before, and the sound of his name falling from her lips set a fire in him that he didn't even know was there.

"If I had a magical ointment to heal my scars," She laughed, smirking to herself, "I'd bathe in it every night."

Remus frowned, "Scars?" He was confused; He had seen practically every inch of Wren's body and she didn't have a single scar painting her porcelain skin. She had freckles coating her cheeks, and a small heart shaped birthmark on her stomach just above her pelvis. If she had any scars, then Remus would have seen them.

Remus watched as Wren's eyes unconsciously fluttered down to her forearm, and he was suddenly reminded of that rainy day on the Quidditch field where she burnt her wrist.

Her trepidation, her need to know what the ointment was before he put it on her arm. The way she hesitated, not sure if she could trust him.

"It's nothing." She brushed it off, jumping up from where she was sitting on his lap. She suddenly felt very exposed, the cold evening air nipping at her skin. Her arms wrapped around the curve of her waist, her eyes downcast so as not to make eye contact with Remus. He noted how she tugged at the sleeve of her shirt, trying to cover the bare section of her wrist.

He watched, his arms now resting against the back of the leather sofa, as Wren awkwardly nodded goodbye, disappearing through his office door.

He thought he was coming to know the real Wren Winslow. But with her, it seemed that every time he overturned one stone, there was a boulder hidden behind it. He seemed to have all the pieces, and yet he just couldn't quite put them together.

*

It was way past curfew and yet Wren had decided to wander the corridors of Hogwarts. It was dark outside, but the moonlight was shining through the stained glass of the arched windows, giving her just enough light that she didn't need to cast a Lumos spell.

She could hear the rain through the withered brick, drops rolling down the already tear stained cheek of Rowena Ravenclaw engraved onto one of the many arched windows. It would be comforting, the rhythmic sound of the rain and her footsteps against the cobble, if it wasn't for the constant uneasy feeling in her gut, telling her that she was being followed.

She thought she had heard a second pair of footsteps a few corners back, but she couldn't be sure. "It's probably just another student." She had told herself, trying to ease her anxiety.

The long, brunette curls of her hair swished across her upper back as she took a quick glance over her shoulder. Nobody was there. Her casual walk sped up slightly, her hands practically wringing out the other like a wet towel. The hairs on the back of her neck and forearms shot up as if she had been electrocuted, a soft growl sounding from somewhere to her right. Her eyes scanned the shadows as she continued walking. Nobody was there.

She was worried that whoever was following her through the corridors could hear the way her heart was pounding in her chest, banging against her ribcage as if it were a prisoner in a jail cell. She swore she saw movement, the light of the moon just hitting the outline of an almost animalistic figure.

Wren realised she had not been watching where she was walking when she bumped into something hard and broad, a frightened gasp falling from her lips as she stumbled backwards. Rough hands clasped over her mouth before she could scream, as her Potions professor looked down at her with a stern brow.

"What are you doing out here at this hour?" He spat, taking a quick glance over his shoulder at the dark corner behind him.

Wren's delicate hand grabbed onto his, pushing it away from where it was firmly held over her mouth, "Taking a walk." She breathed.

"A walk?" Snape sniggered, "God, you must really think that I'm stupid."

Wren went to counter his remark, but the professor started talking again before she could.

"Come with me." He instructed, smoothing out his robe with the palms of his hands with a sigh before walking off in the direction that he came. Wren followed closely behind him, though his long strides were much too quick as she struggled to keep up.

His nasally voice filled the silence of the corridor again, "You left your bag in Lupin's classroom."

She noted an accusatory hint to his usually unbothered tone, a bushy brow raised as he looked down at the girl walking beside him.

"I must have left it after detention." She shrugged.

"Hm." Snape huffed, "Detention." Wren dropped her head, watching as she placed one foot in front of the other against the uneven cobble floor. For a moment she felt as though she were back in Winslow Manor, Snape escorting her through the vast gardens for a meeting with her father.

"Do you still speak to my father?" Her question came out of nowhere as she gulped down the lump forming in her throat. Even the mention of her father caused a knot the size of a Quaffle to form in her gut, as she resorted back to wringing out her hands.

Snape's hair shifted as he gave the girl a slight shake of his head, "No."

Wren felt strangely disappointed, almost as though she wanted to know how her father was doing - if he was well. The conflict that she felt could honestly drive her straight into a padded room at St. Mungos, though she usually was quite good at repressing it.

"He is where he belongs, Wren." The girl blinked up at the man beside her, rendered speechless from his sudden sincerity - an emotion that she never even thought him capable of. He came to a stop in front of the intricate painting of the Fat Lady, usually bright and bubbly but currently snoring on a cushioned arm chair.

Wren was sure she noticed Snape's eyes dart down to her forearm, the length of his lashes briefly shadowed against his aged cheek from the dim lighting of the stairwell.

He gave a slight flick of his wand, the painting behind him creaking open. Through the opening, the Gryffindor common room looked rather drab, deep red clashing against the gold. Wren gave her professor a nod of thanks, before taking a step inside the painting.

"Wren." Snape's voice was low, as though he were mulling carefully over his words. She turned to look at him as the man's eyes met her own.

"Stay away from Lupin." His face was expressionless, only making Wren all the more confused, "He may hide it well, but underneath the scars he is just as bad as the rest of us."

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