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It was cold. Too cold for a night in June. His cloak wasn’t good enough at keeping him warm, though the problem wasn’t cloak at all. He was shivering, shaking with cold and fear and sorrow. Severus couldn’t feel his fingers, his eyes were burning from crying so much.
He killed him. He killed him willingly, and his hand hadn’t shaken a bit, his voice hadn’t trembled when he uttered an Avada. He had never had to kill before. He wondered if he could but never had a chance to prove any point. Severus thought of himself as a man who is too weak to kill. And now he was there, a murderer. What was even worse, a murderer of a friend.
He had never particularly liked Albus, yet they were sort of friends. Severus didn’t want to think about Albus as a master of his, so he has chosen to call him friend. And they were friends, they had tea together, and they talked about things, small and silly and big and serious, they shared secrets. Too many secrets.
Snape looked up at the ceiling. The paint was chipped and dirty from decades of cigarette smoke. There were multiple cracks and a few spots of mold. Severus wondered if he looked as bad as the place if not worse. He was sitting on the floor leaning his back against the wall. The hem of his cloak was covered in dirt and dust. The books were all over the floor. He remembered overturning the bookcase in rage. He remembered screaming, pulling his hair and having an urge to cut himself.
He hasn’t done it for years but now had this nagging thought in the back of his mind. He dissociated. He wanted to take that shiny blade on the lowest shelf in his bathroom cabinet and cut. He wanted to see the blood, to feel the pain just to assure himself he hasn’t disappeared yet.
Severus’ face and hands were unusually white even considering his pale skin. He chuckled at the thought he was turning to a ghost. What a pathetic ending to his pathetic life.
Only he couldn’t die yet. There were too many things to do left. The mission that wasn’t fulfilled yet. The mad bastard that wasn’t dead. Severus couldn’t leave now, no matter how much he wanted to.
There was a knock on the door.
Snape wasn’t ready for any guests, from any side. He braced himself and made his body move. He still was shaking from the cold. His vision was blurry from all the tears. A few steps to the door felt like torture, his legs were numb, he wasn’t sure if he was moving at all. The doorknob felt freezing to the touch, Severus turned it to the left.
When the door opened, he was met with a familiar gaze of blue eyes.
“Lupin”, Severus said, more like a statement rather than a question.
“Snape”, answered Lupin.
Severus hated when Lupin called him by his last name. It sounded an awful lot like a flashback from their teenage years. The first name, on the other hand, Remus pronounced it right, soft and nice to one’s ear.
“Come in”.
Lupin wasn’t sad or angry. If any, he seemed confused and tired. He was moving without his usual grace. It seemed like he forgot how to handle his big and broad (and so beautiful) body.
“You did it then”, Lupin said. There was a dash of accusation in his voice.
“I did. Is it everything you’ve come for?”
Severus couldn’t quite understand the feeling he had. He was used to seeing Lupin next to himself and in his house, he was used to talking to the man. This time something was off, but Severus couldn’t grasp it, couldn't define the sensation.
“Wanted to know why you would do that.”
Of course. The question that annoyed Severus all his life, the why of it all. People always want to know why that and why this. The funny thing is that even when they have an answer, most of the time they refuse to believe it. They refuse to accept the answer as a valid one. They want to hear something different, something they’ve already come up with in their own head.
“I cannot tell you.”
Severus wanted to, oh he wanted to. He wanted to burst into crying once more, he wanted to fall to his knees and he wanted to grasp and pull on the fabric of Lupin’s cloak while screaming and begging for forgiveness. He wouldn’t do it.
“We were lovers, Snape. I deserve to know.”
This bloody last name again. And without the usual smile, that meant Lupin was messing with him. Without any hint of a joke. Without the warmth in his gaze. His voice was steady and silky, without the usual harshness that was a sign of his constant tiredness.
“I cannot tell you.”
The room was dim, almost fully dark, yellow rays from a streetlight being the only source of light. They were standing in front of each other. Severus couldn’t help but think about the last time they stood that far from each other when being alone. It never lasted long. They usually rushed to each other, to finally hold hands and give each other a welcoming kiss. It was ages ago, felt like ages, when in reality only a few months have passed. A few long and lonely months as cold as this night in June.
“You just don’t want to, right?”
Lupin stepped closer. His moves were awkward and hesitant. Again, Severus caught a weird feeling. Perhaps, he hasn’t seen Lupin for too long. He had replayed the same memories in his head so many times, he thought, that maybe they lost the truth, lost the sharpness. Could he remember his lover wrong?
“I’ve already told you - I simply cannot tell you”.
Lupin crossed the empty space between two of them. Severus now could feel the warmth of his body in front of his own. He could touch Lupin’s hand with a small move of his own. He needed the touch like a thirsty human needs a sip of water. He wanted to intertwine their fingers and let the warmth linger itself all over his body and revive the cells. Severus didn’t do that.
“I can ask better”, Lupin said and kissed him.
Lupin’s lips were soft and hot, just as good as Severus remembered, though there was a faint taste of coffee. Lupin didn’t like coffee. The kiss was heated and insistent. Lupin’s fingers slid into Severus’ hair, his left hand was pushing the man onto the sofa. They fell on it.
“It’s good, but I still cannot.”
Severus didn’t like that. It wasn’t good at all. It was almost cruel, vile, and felt wrong. The Lupin he remembered would never kiss him like that. He would be gentle and slow, he would slightly bite into his lower lip, he would place one hand on his waist and another on his cheek. He would let Severus be in lead.
“Tell me”, Lupin murmured in his ear.
Severus opened his eyes with realisation. It wasn’t Lupin’s voice, it wasn’t Remus’ voice, it wasn’t his intonation. Severus tried to see in the dark, trying to look for any clues in Lupin’s appearance. The odd feeling, the clumsiness that was never inherent to the werewolf, the taste of coffee… It all made sense now.
“Tell me.”
Severus had his wand in his hand in a second. Lupin’s brown locks started to look silver. Severus knew he had to wait a little longer, he had to play this game to win it.
“Show me how bad you want to know.”
Lupin met his gaze with his now gray eyes.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Anything you’re willing to do.”
Lupin started to kiss and lick his neck, while unbuttoning his coat. Severus made an effort to utter some sounds that would convince Lupin he was enjoying whatever the latter was doing to him. Moans sounded terribly fake to his own ears but seemed to be enough for the other man.
A few long moments passed by. Severus thought about the memories he had, about soft husky voice, about blue eyes with a hint of hazel in them. He has always admired this bizarre combination. Two colours seemed to not fit together, but they did in this only one example he has ever seen.
“Tell me”, Lupin repeated once more, now sucking on Severus’ nipples.
Snape lowered his gaze to make sure he wasn’t wrong. The man before him wasn’t Remus Lupin, the one particular werewolf he has been in love with for so many years.
“I won’t tell you anything”, Severus said, pointing his wand right in the man’s abdomen ready to cast a curse, “I won’t tell you anything, Lucius”.
Bright red sparkle left the end of his wand right when Lucius looked him in the eyes, terrified. Malfoy’s head dropped. Severus stood up pushing the body off of himself. Lucius was lying there still in a brown shabby suit that looked ridiculous on him.
Severus took a deep breath. It was a game and he won. He didn’t tell anything important, in fact, didn’t tell anything at all. However, he still felt awful, even worse than before. The weight of everything he has already gone through and everything he had yet to experience was pushing him to the ground. He was cold and the tears started running down his cheeks again.
There was another knock on the door. Severus wondered if it was another Death Eater ordered to check on Lucius. To be precise, ordered to check if Lucius was alive and Severus - dead.
The second knock came short after the first one. Severus squeezed his wand and turned to the door. The doorknob still felt freezing to the touch, leaving an unpleasant feeling on the skin.
When the door opened, he was met with a familiar gaze of blue eyes. Blue eyes with a hint of hazel in them. Thin lips pursed together in a tight line. Brown locks with a golden shine to them and a few strands of gray.
“Remus”, Severus breathed out.
“Severus”, the right sound, the right amount of warmth and softness.
Remus came in, moving graciously, smoothly, soundlessly. He threw a look at unconscious Lucius on the floor and turned to meet Severus’ eyes.
“Tell me everything I need to know”, he said, placing his big and hot hand over Severus’ freezing fingers. Severus closed remaining space between them and buried his face in Remus’ neck, letting the tears fall and wet his jacket that smelled like grass, chamomile tea, rain and chocolate. Remus stroked his back, making his body wake up and revive.
There were too many things to do left. He needed to remain a spy, he needed to save Harry, he needed to end Voldemort. And most importantly, he needed to let this man, Remus Lupin, this particular werewolf he has been in love with for ages, Severus needed to let Remus make him happy.