Your Baby is the Size of A...

25 Weeks - Your baby is the size of a head of cauliflower

Severus watched as Lupin gulped at his potion – an explicit show of trust, as the lycanthrope handed him back the empty goblet. For a second, they both eyed each other almost warily, as though it was too stressful to keep fighting about years past but far more uncertain should they let the hate and hurt and anger fall away.

After a moment, Severus drew up his courage, dark eyes glaring at Lupin cautiously before turning downward. "Have you ever thought how all this would have ended had you stopped being friends with Black after the Shrieking Shack incident?"

His tone was harmless in its curiosity as Severus stared down at the silver goblet dangling between his fingers almost carelessly. Because he'd thought of it – specifically the ease of spending time with Lupin in the library in their Fifth Year.

The werewolf – though he hadn't known it explicitly then – had sought him out, asking for help with his Potions studies with imploring hazel eyes and an almost too toothy grin. The lull between them had been gentle, natural, and Severus had let himself be swayed, begrudgingly enjoying the Gryffindor's company far more than he should have. Because he had allowed himself to forget the other's friends and their maliciousness.

But it had all been wrecked by Black the moment he had told Severus how to get past murderous limbs.

"Yes," Lupin finally breathed into the air between them, pulling Severus's gaze from the chalice to meet tawny gold. A soft laugh. "I've thought about it quite often," a moment's pause. "If I had chosen my own dignity over the desire to fit in, it might have played out differently. But not that many kids will accept a werewolf as a playmate and friend." A pointed look in his direction, causing Severus to scoff angrily.

"You would have eaten me," he ground out, which was in itself enough of an explanation.

Lupin drew closer, and Severus fought the urge to shrink back warily – instead choosing to ignore the fact that every time the werewolf was within touching distance there was some sort of amorous activity involved to remain stock still, glaring at the lighter man.

"Had I looked at you over our potions text whilst studying and proclaimed I was a werewolf; would you have stayed." The tone was soft, deliberate – as though Lupin knew some irrefutable truth; as though he knew that Severus wouldn't have stayed. As though he knew that Severus couldn't have stayed.

"I was already working it out. I had told my suspicions to Lily," Severus finally said, lips pursed tightly together as he sniffed derisively.

And it was true; the pattern had been rather blatant once he'd grown wise to it. But the thought of being included, foolishly, had led him to believe Black when he'd told him Lupin was waiting for him in the Shack. That for once, he wouldn't be made to hang onto the outskirts, but rather was being embraced into the fold. And it had swayed his better judgement.

"Would you have stayed," Lupin asked again, gaze curious in the way it regarded him.

"Honestly?"

The werewolf nodded silently, and Severus couldn't help but feel as though all the breath had been sucked from the room. For a second – perhaps two at the most – Severus thought about offering up a smart-alecky response, but too much had been disclosed already just by asking that small, soft question. He'd never been a coward, so Severus drew in a slow breath, fingers splaying on Bump as he regarded Lupin curiously, trying to remember how it'd been in Fifth Year – before war and death had touched them all.

"I would have rather heard it from you, than to be led like a lamb to slaughter at the hands of Black; to have a boy who treated me with softness in the library tell me rather than try to rip my throat out, pressing me against a door and snarling like a rabid beast."