Work Text:
A noisy clock was ticking on the mantle, its rhythm offset by the inaccurate taps of the grandfather clock in the hall. Remus Lupin had reset the old clock three times, and each time it stubbornly careened back off track.
"Any minute now," he mumbled to himself.
The moon would rise when did, the hands on a clock be damned, but Snape always came by 5:00 p.m. Lupin's eyes stayed on the clock.
At 4:59 by the mantle clock (and who knows when by the grandfather), a sudden flame burst in the grate. Warmth swelled in Lupin's chest as a familiar scowling visage spun around.
"Severus," Lupin breathed, feeling a smile stretch his face.
"Lupin." The voice from the fireplace was cold and flat.
"Come in," Lupin beckoned, standing in a rush of bustling hospitality.
Snape gained his footing just in time to see Lupin leave the room. He opened his mouth to keep the other man in place, but he was seconds too late.
"Would you like a scotch?" called Lupin from beyond the room, his hoarse voice strained with uncertain cheer.
Snape pressed his lips together in grim annoyance and silently shook his head. Erratic ticking filled the quiet as he stood, waiting, holding a gently covered goblet in his hands.
A rush of rustling robes announced Lupin, who swept in holding two crystal tumblers. A swift smile took his tired face, and when he met Snape's eyes, he lingered a second too long. Desperate to be liked, Snape thought. Desperate to confirm that a person can't possibly dislike the congenial Remus Lupin. His lip curled.
"I didn't hear you," Lupin said, "so I brought you drink just in case. Is neat all right?"
He stepped up to Snape, a few steps closer than necessary, holding out one of the crystal glasses. Snape's black eyes flicked down to the drink and away. With exaggerated care, he set down the covered goblet on a small table near the armchairs.
"A bit of whisky won't alter its effects, right?" asked Lupin pleasantly, still holding out the glass.
"Hardly," Snape muttered. He was quite certain Lupin already knew this, and after a decade of teaching adolescents, his tolerance for unnecessary questions had run dry.
He turned back to Lupin, whose smile had diffused into a tenderly grateful expression. His gaze wavered on Snape, grazing his plain black robes and his sour face. In the fading light, Lupin's eyes were light brown, a plain and gentle color, but Snape had seen them take another shade. They were that peculiar light brown that, in certain moods and lights, sharpened into goldish green unpredictably.
Snape finally accepted the offered glass, and the two men each took a seat. The covered goblet sat between them on the tiny, polished table, little tendrils of steam now escaping from under its dragonhide cover.
"I didn't wish to linger and share a drink with you, Lupin," Snape explained, and the other man's soft smile flickered. "I came only because I must – surely you know this."
An embarrassed laugh escaped from Lupin. "I know," he admitted, reinforcing his smile. "But..." He became unfocused again, looking around nervously. "If you must know, I've been terribly lonely this past week."
Snape held his face impassive and lifted an eyebrow. "That must be awful."
"It's like losing him again," Lupin continued, ignoring his companion's dryness. Sighing, he ran a hand through his shaggy hair, and when he spoke again, his voice was raw and quiet. "So, I appreciate you sitting with me, Severus. Even if it's just for a moment."
Snape took a small sip of his drink, and Lupin did the same.
"Speaking of Black," Snape spoke, his voice growing stronger. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind you wasting his aged Scotch whisky on the likes of me."
As Lupin coughed out a laugh, Snape's face suddenly darkened. What are you doing? he inwardly scolded himself. Are we going to play into Lupin's hand? It was far from his duty to cheer the other man up.
"It wasn't his," Lupin clarified, the glow of happy memory dimly lighting his face. "I assume it belonged to his mother. As such, he would've loved nothing more than to waste it."
Snape scowled, setting the crystal down beside the pewter goblet. "And tell me, Lupin," he began, and the other man's eyebrows lifted at his suddenly savage tone. "Why am I your choice of company? I'm sure someone else from the Order would be overjoyed coddle you in your grief." He might have left it there, but he wanted to see Lupin squirm. "Nymphadora Tonks, perhaps?"
Lupin briefly closed his eyes and took a large gulp of whisky. "Nymphadora's too young," he said, quickly and quietly. "She hasn't seen the things we have – although if things continue this way, it won't be very long before she has." He shook his head as if to clear it.
"So," Snape pressed. "You'd rather have someone to share your misery with than to cheer you up?”
Lupin's mournful eyes looked up, his lips slightly parted, waiting for something.
Snape hissed. "Somehow I doubt you, Remus Lupin."
He wished the other man would cover the undisguised hurt on his face. As the flickering fire became the room's brightest light, the whisky shone golden, and Lupin's eyes glowed large and amber. Despite the light, Snape caught a hint of green in those eyes, and a dangerous wanting started to worm its way into his heart.
"Drink this," he rasped, pulling the dragonhide cloth off the tall goblet. Pent-up steam billowed forth, and Lupin winced.
Dutifully, Lupin placed down his empty glass and reached for the goblet. His pale hands shook as he brought the potion to his lips, taking several shuddering gulps before he was finished.
Snape swallowed, squeezing his empty hand into a bony fist. In two quick sips, he drained his glass of whisky and set it down with finality.
"I'll go now," he announced, his voice still barely above a whisper. He snatched the goblet and its cover and stood. He envisioned himself sweeping to the fireplace without a backward glance, but Lupin caught his empty hand and pulled him back.
"Severus, wait."
He turned, and Lupin stepped closer – too close, and Snape felt his warm breath brush his face.
"No!" Snape spat, jerking his arm away and stepping back. "What is the matter with you, Lupin? Have you finally lost your addled mind?"
Lupin's hand fell to his side, and for the first time, he refused to meet Snape's eyes.
"What did you expect?" Snape asked viciously. "Did you want me to spend the evening with you?"
He let the question linger before going in for the kill.
"In another hour, you won't even be human."
Lupin's face was unbearable, so Snape hurriedly turned and Disapparated with a light snap. In the twilight nothing between Grimmauld Place and his own home, he tried to dispel the sight of that tortured face, but it lingered.
Back in the sitting room, Lupin stood alone in the dark and firelight. He remained still and numb until a familiar hot anxiety pricked his skin, and he knew that his hour was almost up.