Work Text:
WHAT LIES BETWEEN
ONE
Snape rested against Lupin for only a moment before he pulled away. He adjusted his clothes as he exited the darkened classroom without a word. Lupin fell back against the desk sated and slick with perspiration surrounded by the aroma of chalk and the stale scent of sweat and sex. He felt the receding heat of Snape's contact and drank in the coldness of the encounter. He marveled at the way fire gave so readily to ice. He shuffled down the deserted halls of Hogwarts as satiation gave way to hollowness. As he fell into his bed that night, he realized it wasn't regret or disgust, but a lust for more that let him unsettled and unable to sleep.
Snape stalked the halls with his familiar violent stride, the swarm of thoughts in his head masked by the cool expression on his face. The heat of his mouth. The scrape of his hands. Kind hands, willing hands, and his traitorous body. How starved for sex was he that the werewolf seemed like a suitable partner? An argument turned the air thick with tension. He found the vitriolic words that fell so easily from his lips evaporate. He never thought that the smell of a man and the heat of a body would be his undoing. Lupin took the final step that closed the space between them, but Snape pressed his lips against the other man. It was a moment of foolishness, of weakness. Instinct and desire hijacked him. Lupin didn't freeze. He didn't pull back in revulsion. His lips parted and his hand touched Snape's face, a gentle caress at odds with the violent clash of tongue and teeth, of want and need. He didn't remember whose hands wandered first, but he remembered Lupin's gasp and the smell of arousal. Lupin's mouth, his hands, his body…It was weakness, a precursor to mutually assured destruction, but he couldn't deny the desire to collide once more.
They found each other again, Hogwarts’ lost boys alone together, staring each other down across the dark dungeon classroom.
"This is not a relationship. This will never be a relationship. It's just sex. Can your Gryffindor sensibilities handle that?" Snape asked.
Lupin leaned back against the closed classroom door, "I can accept that." Snape continued to glare, but Lupin thought he saw a glimmer of something hopeful flash across the other man's face. "So what now?"
Long strides across no man's land and two independent bodies collided. Fingers tangled in knotted hair. Lips and tongue fought in a fevered clash. Hands ghosted across secret skin, warm and wet, and out and in. They submerged themselves in the familiar steps of lust and release. It was a matter of rough hands in dark corners, few words, and hostile feelings. The marked man and the dark creature addicted to the touch of one another. It was not love. It wasn't even a vague inclination of friendship. It was friction, two people rubbing against one another trying to feel something other than hopeless.
TWO
Lupin made his way through the halls of Hogwarts on a sunny Saturday afternoon. He had just finished submitting a report to Dumbledore. He knocked on Severus' office door.
"Enter." Snape barked. He sneered as Lupin entered his office, "What are you doing here?"
Lupin shrugged, "I had a meeting with Dumbledore. He requires me to submit my reports in person. I think he likes to see for certain that I haven't been irreparably damaged."
"How kind of him." Snape responded icily.
"I thought since I was here," he shrugged again, "…if you're busy I can go."
"I am always busy, Lupin. We aren't all unemployed werewolves." The opening steps of a familiar dance. The way the word werewolf fell from Snape's tongue, the insinuation of dirty and worthless hidden beneath. It's not an assertion of Snape's superiority. It's an acknowledgment; it's a confirmation of their shared position at the bottom of the heap.
"I did have a job." Lupin smiled wistfully, "It was a nice job. I don't suppose you recall how I lost that job?" Lupin tilted his head to the side, something canine in the movement.
"Lycanthropy, wasn't it? Dreadful business." Snape remarked airily. His eyes remained fixed on the papers stacked neatly in front of him.
"Coming from a Death Eater, well that means…almost nothing."
"A different kind of monster entirely, I assure you."
"Not at all the sort of thing the parents would find alarming." It's not a threat. To betray Snape would be to betray Dumbledore. These are words meant to unsettle, to hurt. To remind Snape that safety is an illusion. His life is precariously perched upon Dumbledore's goodwill.
"I'm quiet confident my affiliations serve as a comfort to many of the parents of my students." Snape observed.
"The future Death Eaters of Britain, how pleasant. You must be so proud."
"If I weren't here those students would be lost entirely. Do you think Dumbledore or McGonagall would have time for them? If my Slytherins escape the fate of their parents, it will be my doing." Unlike Potter. That was what he wanted to say. That was the point he sought to drive home. Potter would end up buried beside his parents, years before his time, because the people left behind sent him off to slaughter armed only with arrogance and righteousness.
Lupin paused. Snape continued to glare at his desk slashing thick lines of red and peppering margins with spidery lines of red corrections and censure. He considered the man before him, "Staying the hand of homicidal adolescents. Do you find that to be a taxing endeavor?"
"You trailed behind Black all those years. Did you find that to be a taxing endeavor? Clearly, it was beyond your minimal capabilities."
"Oh, exceedingly difficult." Didn't save him. Couldn't save him. He felt the prick of violence in his veins. Lupin licked his lips, "I wonder how does Lucius Malfoy repay you for your services?"
"The same way Black repaid you with suspicion and veiled threats of violence." His eyes were mocking.
"There was sex too." Lupin added. He had been seeking a different reaction, "Well, before they decided I was untrustworthy. When did Malfoy decide you were unworthy of his sexual advances?"
"How does it feel to know that Black only fucked you because Potter traded adolescent fumblings for girls?"
"Similar to how you felt when you gave up Lily for Malfoy, I would imagine." Lupin spat out instantly flushed with regret. Lily loved these two men when no one else would. Lily was out of bounds. Lupin scrambled, "I could help you. I could help with the grading I mean."
"Do not ruin this arrangement with overtures of kindness." Snape stated imperiously, enjoying the thick rush of anger invading his limbs. He pushed in close to Lupin.
Lupin felt Snape's breath, hot and short on his face. He quickly found his shame overridden by lust. He tapped into his seemingly inexhaustible reserves of resentment, "Evidently you are unfamiliar with 'overtures of kindness.' This is clearly a prelude to a sexual encounter."
Snape smirked, "Is that so?"
Lupin licked his lips and nodded.
"Lock the door."
THREE
Snape fell asleep. Snape never fell asleep. Lupin returned from the bathroom and there he was, flat on his back and dead to the world. They hadn't even argued yet. Lupin enjoyed the violence of their conversation. Men who served two masters always walked a delicate line. This abuse was refreshing in its honesty. There was no duplicity here. It was hate, pain, and sex. This night, however, had been a mostly wordless affair. Remus recalled the dark smudges under Snape's eyes and the slight tremor in his hands, the remnants of the Cruciatus and a restless sleep. He knew that he should leave. Intimacy wasn't a part of this agreement, but he toyed with the idea of falling back into the bed. The look on Snape's face when he woke might be worth the hexes that would surely fly his way.
He leaned against the bathroom door. Here he found his respite, but he couldn't deny it, he wanted more. He needed more than friction and release. He felt a growing numbness in his chest. He wondered how long before it overwhelmed him. How long until no amount of hate could rouse a feeling? He wanted to wake up ensconced in the warmth of blankets and the heat of another person. He wanted the security and comfort of another body resting beside his. A person to rouse you from your nightly terrors. A person to miss when you're gone. Someone to come home to. He sighed inaudibly and rubbed a weathered hand across his face. It wasn't enough, but it was something to hold on too.
FOUR
The Order lost contact with Lupin for a week in November. Dumbledore relayed the news and Snape felt an unexpected pull in his stomach. When Lupin limped into the next meeting, his face a mess of bruises, Snape pretended not to notice that the first face Lupin looked for was his. Snape didn’t smile, he didn’t nod, and when the meeting concluded, he exited the dining room of Grimmauld Place and apparated away.
Lupin came to his rooms hours later, his face mended, but his eyes weary. Snape sat sprawled in his chair, a bottle at his fingertips. He looked up at the man he wanted so much to feel nothing for.
Lupin lowered his body onto the ottoman in front of his chair. He leaned in closely and lingered for a moment in the smell of Snape, in the security of whatever the hell this thing was. Then, he pressed a kiss onto the other man’s mouth.
“Are you going to share that bottle?”
Snape passed the whiskey to the other man. Lupin sat up and took a long drink. Snape worked his way from the chair to his feet. Unsteady, he righted himself and then extended his hand to Lupin. He pulled the other man up to his feet. He turned and Lupin followed.
Lupin left before the light and Snape pretended not to feel the ghost of kiss on his skin.
FIVE
"Lupin, you're injured." Snape removed his hand sharply from under Lupin's shirt.
"It's nothing." Lupin said as he pressed his lips against Snape's once more. "They taped it up at camp. We've got a former nurse now." He murmured against the other man's mouth.
"Has Poppy seen to this?"
Lupin pushed in closer, "No. It's fine."
"A patch job from some hack in the woods? You're going to get an infection."
Lupin pulled back his hands still entangled in Snape's hair, "You act as though you care."
Snape pushed him off. "I don't care, but I have no desire to try explaining to McGonagall why one her precious Gryffindors expired in my bed." He climbed of the bed and gathered something from the other room, "Take your shirt off. On your stomach."
"Yes, sir." Lupin stretched out on his stomach. Snape's hands weren't gentle and the salve was cold on his skin. Still the moment was an unexpected kindness. Snape seemed to notice because his movements became rushed.
"The salve will close up the wound, but you'll need an antibacterial from the Infirmary. I haven't any on hand." Snape stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed.
"Thank you, Severus." Lupin smiled.
"You have to let the salve set. Strenuous activity would not be conducive to that." He regretted the intimacy of his previous act. That insipid smile on Lupin's face was all the proof he needed to see that a line had been crossed. Months of casual encounters and quick fucks lent way to more. He had been reckless. So starved for something he latched on to the first warm body that would have him.
Lupin grimaced as he sat up and pulled his shirt back on, "Are you asking me to leave?" He asked with that smile still on his lips.
"As you can no longer do what you came here to do, I see no reason for you to stay."
A long pause fell between the two men, "What if I stayed?" Lupin asked tepidly.
"I have no use for you now."
"I've been known to play a mean game of chess."
"Are you so desperate for companionship, Lupin?"
Lupin steeled himself, "What if I am?"
"Then you should seek it elsewhere. I have no need of you."
Lupin spoke quietly, "We could be friends, Severus. We should have been friends in school. I should have been better, been braver. I never apologized for that. I needed them so desperately. I was a fool."
Snape cocked his head. He responded with a condescending lilt, "You act as though I would have accepted your friendship. I had no need for you then and I have no need for you now. Having friends is not an advantage. Your need to be needed is a weakness. Weakness gets people killed. I think your experience with Black would have given you some insight into that, but I see you remain as idiotic as ever."
"He's dead. He's dead and gone." Lupin pulled at his hair, "And you still can't let it go. That's weakness, that's a character flaw. Caring for people and needing people? That's being human. That's what keeps us from becoming monsters."
"You would know all about being a monster." Severus stood solidly, his arms tightly crossed.
"I've stood face to face with monsters." Lupin thought of Fenrir, his hands red with blood and his eyes. Those eyes, the depravity contained in that gaze haunted him. "As have you. We're not monsters, Severus, not yet."
"Not yet." He laughed, "You couldn't fathom the things I've seen, the things I've done. You've played the double agent for a few months and you presume to understand my life?" He smirked, "You're a sentimental fool. I knew you couldn't handle this."
"Severus--"
"Leave." He rolled his wand between his fingers, a warning written in the quirk of his lips.
"Fine." Lupin shrugged, you can lead a horse to water, "Fine. I'll go. Enjoy your solitude, Severus."
SIX
Lupin jammed his hands into his pocket and stalked with a single-minded intensity towards Snape's rooms. He knocked on the door without any hesitation. The impact of his knuckles revealed the door was already open. He entered the room and unleashed two weeks' worth of jumbled emotion to the back of Snape's head, "I've been trying to come up with a reason to see you. Some stupid reason why I need to speak with you and I've got nothing. So maybe we really didn't share anything. Maybe I don't know you, but I want to. I miss you. I'm willing to take whatever it is you're ready to give." He expelled in one breath.
Snape answered in a clipped tone. Never turning in his seat, "Lupin, please take your rambling histrionics elsewhere. I am--" Snape slipped from the chair onto the floor.
Lupin rounded the chair and fell to his knees, "Severus, what is--" Snape began to convulse. Cruciatus, Lupin recognized. The door hadn't been warded. He should have known something was wrong. Lupin looked down at Snape. His eyes were pressed tightly shut, but Lupin could only imagine the murderous thoughts stampeding through Snape's brain. He would hate this. Lupin looked towards the door. He contemplated calling for help. Snape would hate it. Hell, Lupin hated it every month. The looks of pity, the empty words, and the undeniable confirmation of your weakness, if Lupin could spare Snape this he would. Resolved, he wrapped his arms more firmly around Severus. He held him until the convulsion stopped, murmuring affirmations into his sweat soaked hair.
"Okay. You're okay. Let's get you into bed," he said as the tremors tapered off, "before the next one."
"Just leave me." Severus rasped, "Go!" He fumbled for something in his robes.
His wand Lupin realized belatedly. He fished the wand out of Severus' pocket and stuffed it into his pocket with his own.
"I'm not going to leave you on the floor." Remus said distractedly as he noticed the puddle of warmth seeping into his trousers.
Severus met his eyes, "Do you see now? Do you understand now, Lupin? This is the disgusting creature you've decided to attach yourself to. Just go! Don't make me force you."
Lupin didn't think he was in any state for wandless magic, but he was willing to take the risk, "Come on, up. We'll get you to the bathroom. Easier to clean." He felt Severus' glare. "It's this or I call Dumbledore. If you think I'm going to leave you here…you're sadly mistaken."
He could hex him, hurt him, push him away. He could end this forever. He looked up at Lupin, his face hard and his eyes dark. "Don't…don't disturb the headmaster. Just help me up."
They slowly made their way to the bathroom. Lupin settled Severus against the tub.
"Is there anything I can give you?"
"They just have to run their course." He spoke slowly through gritted teeth.
"Another?"
"It's uh--" He words drifted off as he closed his eyes and fought the latest tremor.
Lupin held his head as he convulsed, concerned Severus was going to injure himself further during the fit. Lupin felt helpless. He was out of his depth here. "Maybe the bathroom wasn't a great idea." He observed cautiously.
"It's fine. It's all fine. You can go now." He tried to push Lupin away with shaking hands.
"Yell and scream if it'll make you feel better, but I'm not going anywhere." Severus succeeded in removing himself from Lupin's side. He scrambled towards the toilet. Lupin held his hair while he vomited. The smell of bile almost made him regret his decision to stay.
"How long does it usually last?" Lupin asked as he wet a washcloth in the sink.
Severus shrugged Lupin off once more and settled back against the tub, "It varies. Tonight," His pressed his eyes shut, "It might be a while…I've done this alone before. You were ever the gallant Gryffindor. Your chivalry remains intact. Just go." He said quietly. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rail, but his throat was raw and the cool cloth against his skin felt…it was nice. Nicer than tile he would normally press his face against to find some relief. He felt too old and too tired for all of this.
"How about I get you some water?"
Snape ignored the offer. He closed his eyes and tried to settle his breathing. When Lupin returned, he pressed the glass into Severus' hand.
"I'll make it up to you."
"Make what up, Lupin?" His asked in a weary voice.
"This. We'll make it even. You can collect me from my next transformation morning after. Starkers and weak as a baby kitten, it's a sight to see."
"I think I'll pass." His voice trembled slightly.
"Another?"
"Not just yet." He kept his eyes closed. It was easier to pretend Lupin was a figment of his imagination that way.
"Does he know? Does Dumbledore know?" Lupin asked suddenly.
"There is very little the Headmaster doesn't know."
"He's a right bastard sometimes, isn't he?"
"Ah, but he's our right bastard. Let's be thankful for that."
The convulsions came and retreated. Lupin stayed through them all. He kept the washcloth cool and wet. He didn't babble. He didn't coddle. The fits grew less violent and his eyes were heavy with want for sleep. He didn't want to sleep on the bathroom floor again; his back would be wrecked for a week.
He clambered to his feet, exhaustion sapping all his grace. Lupin helped him up and they made their way to the bedroom, Lupin's grip tight around his waist. He provided Severus with the leverage to climb onto the bed.
"Do you have any other injuries?"
"No. I need to sleep. That's all. Relinquish my wand?" Lupin passed the man his wand with a questioning glance, "Cleansing charm. I faced far too many indignities for one night. I draw the line at being bathed by you and I would rather not drown in the shower."
"It's not like I've never seen you naked."
Severus did not respond. Lupin picked up a bottle of Dreamless Sleep off the bedside table. He ran his fingernail over the peeling label and across the scripted letters. Freshly brewed and almost empty.
"How often do you take this?" He asked with concern.
Severus' face answered every question his words did not. Every night. Every night since you fucked it all up. Lupin understood the impulse. He couldn't sleep either.
"I'll stay."
"Even if I ask you not to."
"Oh, especially, if you ask me not to."
Snape considered his wand. He considered Remus' prematurely lined face. He was an intelligent man and a proud man. He was half-dead and miserable. Some nights it's easier to sleep with another body next to yours.
SEVEN
Remus locked eyes with Severus as he tracked the scars across his back. Remus was not pristine. The days of his life are cut into his skin as well. It’s not with disgust, but with understanding that he explored the other man’s body. His hand lingered on Severus’ forearm, on skin stained black,
“Did it hurt?” Remus thinks he can hear the cogs spinning in Severus’ head, churning an answer made more of venom and shame than truth. This is a well-worn dance between the two men. Slowly, they draw together and violently they spin apart. The lust is there, the passion, but their frame is weak. It’s a slow process, building the strength to support one another.
“They all hurt.”
It’s an answer he expected, but it’s the quiet delivery he did not. Remus sat up and pulled Severus until he straddled his hips. He finished unbuttoning the other man’s shirt and removed it from his thin frame. Tender fingers trailed over grazes and skin mended new, down sinewy arms, and across crooked fingers, reading the collective story of his scars: the remnants of a father, of a master, of a life.
The exposure would be less if Severus only read lust in other man’s eyes. Remus brushed Severus’ dark hair aside and his fingers skittered across the reminder of the edge of a knife, of a threat never forgotten, of a father never forgiven. Severus curled his fingers around the hem of Remus’ shirt and lifted the swath of fabric up. Remus groaned at the momentary intrusion in their contact. Severus removed his shirt, catching on his elbows and his nose. Severus’ hands devoured the expanse of the newly exposed skin.
Remus’ body is amalgamation of scars old and new too: a childhood of full moons, an adult life of hard labor, and the violence of a life undercover. Severus cupped his face and ran his hands across Remus’ shoulders, down his arms and there it was. He paused. The cause of all the hurt, the smooth, mangled flesh of bite permanently carved into his skin.
“Do you remember?” He asks even though he thinks he’d rather not know.
“…Yes.”
Eventually there was no fabric left between them. Their layers piled on the bedroom floor. There’s more to say, to acknowledge, to forgive, and to forget, but now it’s time to sate that need for touch.
EIGHT
“Let me look at your nose,” Severus interrupted his thoughts. He had made his way back to Severus’ chambers, but Remus found himself stuck on the threshold.
“Sit." Severus tossed him a rag. "At least, clean the blood off.” He grabbed Remus' upper arm and directed him towards the worn armchair. Remus moved to shake the other man off, but Severus simply pulled harder.
He could feel his anger rising. He pushed Severus hard. The other man lost his balance and fell into the parchment-covered desk.
“Don’t pull me about like some kind of child. I am fully capable of cleaning myself up.” he snapped and turned to leave.
“You're upset,” Severus said as he righted himself. He threw himself into the other man’s path, “But, if you’re going to push people about and run off like a child, then I see no other option, but to treat you like one,” He grabbed the shorter man’s arm once more and directed him towards the chair, “Sit.”
Remus wanted to shake him off. He wanted to push the other man to the ground. He wanted to yell, to lash out, but he didn’t. He acquiesced.
Severus wiped the blood from Remus’ face and examined the nose. It wasn’t broken; it looked like it would heal all right on its own. When he was done with his ministrations, he pressed a kiss into the other man’s forehead. Remus exhaled deeply. He leaned forward and let his head rest against the other man’s chest. They remained that way for a moment, but then it was time to move again. Shoulder to shoulder the two men walked slowly out of Severus’ chambers, down the dark and dusty halls of Hogwarts. They parted ways at the gate with a nod.
NINE
"It's not about what I want."
"Your life isn't about what you want?"
"No more than your life is about what you want."
"Why can't we be selfish? Just once."
"It won't be just once. My life doesn't work unless I have nothing to lose."
"What kind of life is that?"
"It's my life. It's the life I've earned…I accept it."
"Well, I don't."
"Thankfully, my life is not about what you think."
"We won't survive this by pulling apart."
"We aren't going to survive this."
TEN
“I like our scars. We’re like a matching set.” Remus said to Severus as he lay sprawled out on the man’s bed examining the backs of his hands. Severus looked up from his reading. He settled back into his chair, and extended his legs to rest on his bed.
“Why do you feel the need to articulate ever thought that pops into your tiny head?”
“I suppose it’s similar to whatever motivates you to be nasty and sarcastic, rather than kind.” He pushed the other man’s feet back onto the floor.
Severus resettled his feet on the bed, “I am in fact just unkind. You, however, are capable of revealing almost nothing in conversation. You could talk for days and never say anything, but every time I am trying to read, you want to have feelings and say things of substance. You are making it difficult for me to maintain the illusion that I am just using you for sex.”
“Keep saying such thoughtful things and you’ll find your illusion very difficult to maintain.”
“You act as if anyone else would even have you.”
“I’ll have you know I am very sought after. Men, women, the occasional animal, all find me quite alluring. Molly Weasley gives me the eye all the time.”
“She wants to feed you, not fuck you. Those are her caring mom eyes. She’ll probably try to save you from me.”
“I think you’re misreading that. Charlie Weasley though...” He knew the moment he said it, he went too far. He saw the change in Severus’ eyes.
“Maybe you should go see him then.”
“Don’t, don’t be angry. Severus—“
Severus raised his hand to stay his words, “I’m not. I’m not angry.” He exhaled, “You should go now. It’s late.” He stood and turned away from Remus.
“We can’t keep doing this.” Remus jumped up from the bed. “Tell me you’re mad. Say it! Say something! You never had a problem before.” He paused. Remus could read the anger in the tense line of Severus’ shoulders. He knew he should stop, he should walk away, and live to fight another day. He didn’t want to destroy the ease that had developed between them, but he wasn’t interested in this pale imitation of the man.
“You have to stop avoiding this, avoiding everything. There are all these things we can’t talk about. The scars, the nightmares, Harry, Charlie, you and me, all these things we have to dance around. Yell at me, be mad, but don’t push me out.” He grabbed Severus’ arm and turned the other man around, “You say I talk about nothing, that I give people nothing? You’re mean and cutting; you pick and pick at people, so they can’t pick at you first. You’re doing the same fucking thing. We just go about it different ways but, here with you, it’s not like that. It doesn’t have to be. That’s why I say everything that pops into my tiny head because I want you to know.” He paused, “You can only push someone away so many times before they stop coming back.”
Severus gave no reply. Remus pushed past him to leave. “I am trying. I thought this is what you wanted.” He sat back down and jumped right back to his feet. “You can’t throw that Weasley brat in my face. I don’t…I don’t do things like this.” He waved his hand between them. “I tried once. I gave everything I was to someone else. I couldn’t tell where I stopped and he started. It was obsessive, it was dangerous, and in the end it wasn’t even real. He was toying with me. Every caress laced with malice, just pain masquerading as passion. I don’t know how to have this.”
Remus opened his mouth to speak, but Severus wasn’t even looking at him.
“What else? Potter, why don’t we talk about Potter? He’s a child, Lily's child, and we’re asking everything of him. He doesn’t have anyone left to stop us. We’re fighting a war on the backs of children, yet, we only call the other side monsters. Do you want me to say I care about him? That I wish I had made different choices? I can’t talk about Potter because that night Lily died I promised her I would take care of him. I made a promise and I fucked that up. He’s going to die for a world he hardly knows, for a world he won’t even get to live in.”
He paused and slowed down, frenzy less evident in his eyes and words, “And you and me? What we are? What this is? It’s not something I know, but I’ve decided I want it. I want whatever this is. Whatever the hell you want to call it. You’re the thing that might make me better. I tried not to care because it’s selfish. It's dangerous. I don’t deserve it…And Charlie fucking Weasley? Why don’t we talk about him?” He pushed Remus onto the bed. “Because I wanted you, I wanted you for so many years, but I could never put it together.”
“You were jealous---” Remus tried to respond, but Severus took that moment to grind his hips against him.
He ran his tongue up Remus’ neck along his jaw; he growled into the other man’s mouth, “I was jealous.”
Severus liked falling asleep with the scent of Remus around him. He liked knowing the other man was there beside him. Yet, sleep eluded him that night. He ran through the fight again and again. It was too much. He gave too much. Remus was going to rethink this. He was going to realize the damage went too deep----
“I can hear you thinking.” Remus mumbled into his pillow. “Go to sleep.”
“I wasn—”
Remus cut him off with sleep heavy in his words, “No, stop it.” He sat up. “We’re sleeping now, no more thinking or worrying.” He turned to lie on his side and pulled Severus along with him. He took Severus’ hand in his.
“Go to sleep.”
“I don’t like you.”
“I know. Go to sleep anyway.”
ELEVEN
The sound of music echoed down the hall. An old song, a song he remembered his mother singing in his childhood. Everyone was still gathered in the Great Hall celebrating the New Year. Severus exited the hall the moment he escaped Dumbledore’s eye. He made his way down the hall trying to shake the unnerving feeling of being surrounded by bodies, but still feeling alone. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t miss him. Night was difficult. It always was. The sound of footfalls caught his attention. He turned the corner, wand in hand, and found himself face to face with a disheveled and red-faced Remus Lupin.
Remus smiled. “I promised, didn’t I?” He extended his hand to Severus.
Severus snorted, “Did you run all the way up here?”
“I did. Come on.” Remus pulled the man into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Dancing in the New Year,” He added with a smirk, “with you.”
Severus bit back a reply. He knew exhaustion and he could read it in the sag of Remus’ shoulders and in the redness of his eyes. Begrudgingly, he let Remus move him to the music. The bells rang in the New Year a few minutes later. Remus gave a tired smile and pulled the other man in for a kiss.
“Another year.”
“Another year.”
It wasn’t dancing so much as it was two people holding each other up, carrying one another’s weight because to stand alone just wasn’t feasible anymore. How long can two fucked up people hold each other together before everything tears at the seams? Probably not for very long, but they were going to try. They were going to hold on with everything they had left and when they couldn’t hold on any longer they were going to let go together.
TWELVE
"I killed a woman." He held up a hand to keep Severus at a distance. "She begged and pleaded, but I kept on. I let her to bleed out on the ground. I watched the others defile her body...I sat at his side and admired their work. They turned the children." His voice was devoid of emotion, "I couldn't stop them. I had to prove my allegiance." He rested his head in his hands.
When he looked up Severus almost did not recognize the man staring back at him. Feral eyes and a face lined with grime. He approached Remus slowly and gently clasped his hand around Remus' wrist.
"Come on. We'll get you cleaned up." Severus helped Remus stand and led him toward the bathroom.
"You aren't going to promise it will make me feel better?"
"It will make you feel more human."
"Something to look forward to then."
Severus removed his arm from around Remus' waist and propped him against the sink. He reached across him to turn on the shower. He helped Remus peel off his wet wool robes.
"Are those bites?"
"She fought back."
"Good for her."
THIRTEEN
His hands are rough even when they try to be gentle. A cold life, a hard life makes for a hard body, but Remus doesn’t care. He’s never even mentioned it. He likes the friction as those hands run down the lines of his body. There were years when the only hands that touched his body were his own. He revels in the cut of strange hands on delicate skin.
Severus can’t remember the taste of another man’s skin. He can’t remember the feeling of anyone’s body but the man writhing beneath him. His hands skim the familiar planes of Remus’ body. Well versed in one another they move together with ease.
Remus is a man certain of very few things. In fact, he only certain of one thing and that is this man and the time they share.
FOURTEEN
“I worry about what I will be after the war. I’m good at this, you know? I have a purpose. When this is all over how can I go back to what I was?”
“You’ll find something else to occupy your time.”
“Poverty and unemployment? Homelessness?”
“Don't be idiotic, it's boring. You will always have a home.”
FIFTEEN
Severus' ink stained fingers rested on his burning skin.
“I know that you can’t save me, but I like that you would try.” Remus rasped.
Severus sighed, “You aren’t going to die, you idiotic man. You have the flu.”
“Are you sure? I feel pretty close to death.”
“Gryffindor dramatics.” Severus brushed away his hair and placed his lips against Remus’ forehead. “Your fever’s gone down. Try and get some sleep. I’ll be back after class.” He rose and walked towards the door.
“You’ll say kind things about me at the funeral, of course.”
Severus froze on the threshold. The fallibility of man, fate’s fickle hand, their grasp on life was never more tenuous.
“Severus—”
Severus turned on heel, “Get some sleep…and if you vomit in my bed? It won’t be the flu that does you in.”
Remus snuggled back into his pillow, “Uh huh, I'm not scared of you. Have a good class.”
Severus stalked down the hall his thoughts preoccupied with the man curled up in his bed. They read together last night. Remus curled against Severus’ side as he read the widely inaccurate ramblings of one of his second years aloud. Remus provided increasingly colorful and fever dazed commentary until he dozed off mid thought. Severus almost smiled at the memory as he swept into his classroom. He settled into his teacher headspace and eased into his routine. Intimidate, collect assignment, revise, castigate, set assignment, loom, etc. He sat down at his desk and began to mark assignments periodically, glancing up (okay glaring) to assess their progress. They weren’t working with any particularly volatile ingredients, but if years of teaching had taught him anything, it was that destruction and first years would always find one another.
He silenced an ensuing quarrel between lab partners with a scowl. He dipped his quill into the red ink. Twelve uses of dragon blood: oven cleaner, spot remover, fine ink, potion enhan—he wouldn’t say nice things at his funeral. He clenched the quill between his fingers. He couldn’t be sure there would even be a funeral or that he would be able to attend and maintain his cover. Their relationship only existed within the confines of Hogwarts and Remus' flat. Nice things, fond memories danced on the tip of his tongue, but he was almost certain he would never say them aloud.
SIXTEEN
“Just stitch me up.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“It was for the pain, you didn’t have anything else.”
“Sorry, haven’t restocked since the last full moon.” He slowly removed the cloth pressed into the wound. “Shit, Severus. Why didn’t you go to the infirmary?” He pressed fresh gauze into the wound, “This is beyond what I can fix. You need a healer.”
“It’s not that bad. You’ve patched up worse.”
“St. Mungo’s or Poppy? Your choice, but we’re going. I’m not going to let you get an infection from my bathroom floor.”
Severus hissed in response as course of violent tremors ripped through his body. Remus fell to his knees and held him whispering reassurances into the other man’s hair. When the convulsion abated, Remus gathered Severus’ hair and helped him up to his knees. He rubbed circles into his back as Severus emptied the contents of his stomach. Old knees crouched on a cold bathroom floor, taping each other back together with not much more than whiskey and hope. Remus propped the exhausted man up against the bathtub. He grabbed the cup from beside his toothbrush and filled it with water from the bathroom sink.
“Here,” he placed the cup next to Severus, who remained propped against the tub, trying to even out his breathing. Remus wet a towel with water and crouched down beside the other man. He wiped the sweat and drying vomit from his face.
“Cruciatus,” Severus exhaled in an even tone.
“Okay,” Remus sat down beside him, “We’ll go when the aftershocks stop, alright?” Severus didn’t answer, but that was the agreement. If Severus kept his promise to not to writhe in pain alone, then Remus would keep his promise to let him suffer in private. “How many was that?”
“Only the second.”
“How bad?”
“I wasn’t under very long. He wasn’t angry; it was just a reminder. It didn’t take long for his assertion that I have no power to be resoundingly confirmed.”
“What did Dumbledore say?”
“I haven’t sent word. I was, uh,” he waved his hand tiredly, “a bit indisposed.”
“I’ll floo him. Let him know we’ll be through later.”
Severus reached out, “Wait. Another one—” His face contorted in pain and Remus wrapped his arms around him once more.
“Okay, you’re okay. You’re okay,” Remus murmured into his hair. Okay. Fine. Good enough. The tremors relented and they remained huddled together for a moment. The sickly smell of sick and sweat mixing with bleach filled the small room. “You think you’re going to throw up again?”
“Nothing to left to expel.”
“Never stopped you before,” he paused, “What do you need?”
“Sleep.”
“You can’t sleep, yet.”
“You think I don’t know that,” he spat. “Help me up.”
Remus wanted to argue, but Severus’ tone brooked no disagreement. “Fine. On three.” Remus untangled his body from Severus, “One, two, three.” He heaved the other man up from the ground.
Severus steadied himself using the sink, “Leave me.” He stared into the mirror as he shook Remus off, “Tell Dumbledore, I’ll be along shortly.”
Remus squeezed his forearm as he shuffled passed, “Leave the door open.” Shoulder checking his bathroom door open to find Severus seizing on the floor was not something he wanted to relive.
Severus couldn’t slam the door in the response like he wanted. He feared if he released his hold on the sink basin that his legs wouldn’t hold him. He looked into the mirror and tried to stoke himself back up. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, deeply, working his way back into the right mind frame. New schemas activated, vulnerability stowed away beneath an icy exterior, he opened his eyes and observed Dumbledore’s spy gazing back at him. He wet his hands and gave his hair a cursory combing. Shoulders back, footing solid, he exited the bathroom.
Remus watched from the small kitchenette with tired eyes, “He’s waiting for you.”
Severus crossed the room in a few swift steps and kissed Remus chastely on the lips. His mask slipped for only a moment.
Severus slipped away into the fireplace. Remus stood with his arms wrapped around his body waiting for his water to boil. He sighed at the sight of the Thai takeout cooling in bags he dropped on the floor. He should probably eat, but he honestly couldn’t tell if he was hungry. Twisted, heavy feelings of disgust, sadness, and worry settled in his gut. Exhaustion hung heavy on his bones. His water whistled. He took the kettle off the burner and fixed his tea, his eyes continuously flicked towards the bathroom door. He knew he couldn’t settle until he cleaned up. He left the mug on the counter and resolutely made his way into the bathroom.
Blood, vomit, piss, he’d cleaned more fluids then he cared to remember off that battered tile floor. A flick of his wand and the physical evidence disappeared, but the scent and the memory lingered. Remus removed a bucket from under the sink. A capful of bleach, warm water, and pink sponge were his catharsis. He scrubbed that bathroom clean until the sharp scent of bleach overwhelmed him and the pools of blood disappeared from his mind’s eye.
He had seen worse, cleaned up worse, been worse. The sight of Severus slumped on the ground still wore at him. He fell into his routine, synapses firing in familiar, comforting patterns. The mechanics of patching your lover back together are instinctual. Assess the damage. Clean any wounds. Stop any bleeding. Mend the flesh. Disregard his assertions that he is fine. Watch the head during convulsions. Whisper words of little meaning or comfort into your lover’s hair while his fried nerve endings revolt. Don’t cry. Don’t pity. Don’t think just act. Give blood replenishing, anti-bacterials, and other assorted potions. Wash the evidence away while you wait for his return. Make him stay the night even though he’ll want to leave. Stare at the ceiling until his eyes close and his breathing evens out. Wake him up when nightmares come. Hold him when he needs it and let him curl into himself when he doesn’t. Remember all the times he’s done the same for you. Pray that when the war ends you won’t be too fucking damaged to appreciate it. Lather, rinse, and repeat.
Severus returned from his meeting with Dumbledore and found Remus still on his knees in the bathroom. A decidedly familiar sight that hurt Severus more then he cared to consider.
“I would have cleaned that up.” Remus didn’t respond so Severus continued, “Poppy stitched me up.”
“Good.” Remus turned slowly to glance behind. The bleach hadn’t overwhelmed his olfaction senses so much that he didn’t smell the man looming in the doorway. He just hadn’t been ready to stand as of yet. “If you’re going back to your rooms, I’m coming with you.”
“I assumed as much. It’s Saturday by now though, I thought I’d stay here.”
“Good.”
“Okay.” Severus leaned against the doorway and stifled a yawn, “When do you think you’ll be getting off the floor?”
Remus ignored his question. He scrubbed at a tiny fleck of what may have been blood, but was more likely just imaginary. “What did Dumbledore have to say?”
“Nothing worth repeating.”
“And Poppy?”
“I’ve seen that woman reattach your limbs, she barely batted an eye. Honestly, I think she was a bit upset I woke her up for something so insignificant.”
Remus shrugged, “A finger hardly counts as a limb. How’d you get so cut up anyway?”
“Glass and the Cruciatus are an unfortunate combination.” He folded his arms across his chest, “So, off the floor sometime in the near future?”
“Uh, yeah. Okay.” He stood and stumbled on stiff knees. Severus grasped his arm to steady him. “You’re good?”
“Good enough.”
Because they’re never okay, but they’re always fine.
SEVENTEEN
“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Remus replied tersely.
“I couldn’t hazard a guess.”
Remus looked around the kitchen and gave a frustrated sigh, “I’m making dinner…”
Severus quirked an eyebrow, “And the pasta revolted?”
Remus threw the dirty rag in his hand at Severus’ face, “Not exactly. The chicken was being defiant, but I had things under control…” He continued despondently, “and then the bread caught on fire.”
“You’re a mess.” Severus surveyed the damage strewn across Remus’ kitchen, pasta sauce splatters, blackened bread, seemingly every pot and pan the small kitchen held. He reached across the counter and wiped the pasta sauce from Remus’ face. “How have you survived this long?”
Remus groaned, “Sheer force of will, I guess.” The kitchen timer went off and Remus turned to pull the chicken parmesan from the oven. He placed the dish onto the countertop gently.
Severus poked at the chicken suspiciously, “Shall I set the table?”
“I’ll get the wine.”
They sat across from one another, steaming plates of noodles, cheese, sauce, and chicken untouched on the cramped table.
Remus took a gulp of his wine. “How bad could it be?” He cut a sliver of chicken and placed it delicately in his mouth, “....Ahh,” He spit his food out into his napkin, “Raw. Not cooked.”
Severus scooped some of the concoction from his plate onto his fork. “The noodles are…” He offered at a loss for the proper adjective to describe the texture and taste currently assaulting his tongue.
Remus looked so distraught. His shoulders slumped as he stared out at the food as if it had betrayed him personally. Severus couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up in his chest. He laughed until tears ran down his cheeks, until Remus’ grimace morphed into a smile and he joined Severus in his laughter.
Remus’ felt the tension ease out of his body as he watched the man in front of him happily fall to pieces, “I can make eggs,” he offered.
“No!” Severus sputtered through his laughter, “I’ll make eggs. You can be in charge of the toast.”
They ate their eggs and, only slightly, burnt toast on the mattress in the living room.
EIGHTEEN
"It's like before it rains. You know it's going to happen. The sky darkens to grey and all the animals skitter away. You can feel the pressure against your skin. You can smell it, hell, you can even taste it. But, you can't touch it. Not yet. You know it's going to happen, but you still have to wait. Wait until the sky decides it's time to break; wait until everything starts tumbling down...I hate waiting." Remus lay propped against Severus thigh. Severus' fingers were tangled in his hair.
"It'll all be over soon."
Morning came too quickly. The dressed and tried to eat. They never said goodbye. If this was it, their last moment, it would be a quiet one. No rushed declarations or exclamations. No promises that could not be kept. They stood face to face, the heat of Severus' dark mark radiating through his robes, the taste of the moon pulling at Remus' blood, and Dumbledore's orders running on repeat, the master of each man calling.
NINETEEN
"He thought he was a god in a godless world. I started to think that maybe he was right. Maybe he was more than flesh." Remus leaned against Severus' shoulder.
"He was just man."
"More monster than man."
"But, still just flesh."
Remus rested his head in his hands. Severus placed his hand on the back of the other man's neck and looked out across the ruined grounds of Hogwarts. He smiled as the sun set and the smoke cleared.
THE END.