fanofthefic

Sat, 16 Sep 2006 12:39:46 GMT

Title: Realisations
Rating: R
Word count: 2600 ish
Summary: Severus learns of Remus’ true feelings from an unlikely source.Angst
Warnings: Torture,character death
Author Notes: Sequel toShould I love you?
This is written in a different style. Not Beta'd tho I will be posting the proper version (I’m a comment tart) All errors are my fault entirely.Sorry for the awful title.
All Belong to JK Rowling.

Part One
Part Two
Part Three

He’s going to kill me, thought Remus Lupin, and I’m glad it’s him. He lay on the hard cold floor, the pain of transformation , torture and the Unforgivable thrown by Bellatrix Lestrange sending him to the edge of collapse. He didn’t doubt Snape’s loyalty to The Order, despite Voldemort’s belief of the contrary; Lupin knew that Severus would do anything to keep his place within the Death Eaters, including, it would seem, sleeping with someone he considered less than human. “My Lord, it would give me great satisfaction to be rid of the animal, but it has proved a useful tool.” That had hurt more than anything he had endured over the previous few hours because he had foolishly allowed himself to hope that Snape finally saw him as a man and not a monster. It had all been a lie, Remus realised, just a lie to appease Voldemort, and to Severus their time together meant nothing. For Remus, though, it had meant everything, those precious few hours in the arms of the man he loved, so much so that he had planned on telling Severus everything that he felt when he had asked if he could come back to the hut during the day. Of course fate had stepped in and had saved Remus from anymore false hope. As the world faded, Lupin could imagine Snape’s reaction to his declaration. He would tell Lupin what he wanted to hear, perhaps even pretend to return the feelings. It would be a lie of course, all for the sake of keeping his link to The Order. The last thing he saw were Snape’s eyes. The last thought he had was relief that he could die knowing Snape knew how he felt.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He felt safe. And young. He didn’t know where he was but he knew almost without thought that he had a decision to make. Two paths lay before him; one way led to his family and friends and a life free of the wolf. The other led to war and pain… and Severus. He stood for a seemingly endless time, every moment and memory of his entire life passing through his mind. He felt every feeling that he had ever experienced, from anger to happiness and hate to love. He took a hesitant step forward and chose his path.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“It’s too late for Fawkes to save him.”
Snape didn’t reply. Instead he gently whispered next to the Phoenix’s head then watched as the bird stretched his new adult wings and disappeared. He strode from the secret room in the hut and back into the living quarters almost feeling Harry Potter’s gaze burning holes into his back. Determinedly not looking in the direction of the unmade bed, he walked across the room to the front door. He would not, could not think of Remus now. Maybe later, if he survived Potter’s attack on the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, he would allow himself to fall apart and grieve, but not now. Not while Lestrange and Greyback still lived. A large part of his heart hoped he didn’t survive.
He was at the front door, his hand surprisingly steady on the handle.
“ I wondered why he was starting to look so sick before the full moon.” Snape turned back to see the other man glaring at the bed. “What information was so important that he would stoop so low as to touch you?”

“We do not have time for this Potter. The Dark Lord is aware of the existence of this place.”

Potter remained still. “You’re not denying it then? You forced him to.. to go with you?”

Snape turned away, knowing his lack of a denial had confirmed Potter’s partly true suspicion. He drew deep breaths trying desperately to keep thoughts of Remus from his mind. Wrenching the door open he was half way through it when he was dragged back into the hut and pushed against the wall. Potter stood inches from him, eyes blazing in a face twisted in revulsion and his wand digging into Snape’s throat.

“WAS IT THE IMPERIUS CURSE? IS THAT HOW YOU GOT HIM INTO BED? OR WAS IT ONE OF THOSE POTIONS YOU ARE SO FOND OF ?”
Snape could feel the wand being pushed harder against his neck and the burn from an increasing number of red sparks that burst from the tip as Potter lost control of his anger.
“OR DID YOU…”

“I did not force him into anything.” Snape choked out.

“YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE THAT ?” Potter lowered his wand and laughed, his voice changing from disgust to amused sarcasm. “ As if he would willingly want to touch you. Dirty, greasy, murdering, Death Eater scum. You’re a liar Snivellus.”

It was the old insult that caused Snape to snap. It wasn’t just Harry Potter taunting him, it was Sirius Black. His hatred for the man was no less than when he had thought Remus and he were lovers, if anything it had grown because he had got the relationship between the two so wrong and wasted so many years. Seeing red, he grabbed the other man by the collar of his shirt and roughly shook him.

“HE LOVED ME!,” he shouted as he shook the man, not caring if the Dark Lord and all his minions turned up “ IT WASN’T AN UNFORGIVABLE OR A POTION. IT WASN’T EVEN PITY! IT WAS LOVE!” He pushed the man away from him and collapsed against the wall of the hut. And I had to destroy that to save him. He could feel his eyes sting as he realised that for the first time he had allowed himself to believe that Remus did truly love him.

Potter sneered.
“You are deluded to think he would love you.”

Not caring about the danger of staying too long, he dragged the other man towards him leaving only inches between them. He locked his eyes with Potter’s and pushed his memories into the other man’s mind.

Remus lay blooded and broken at his feet.
The Dark Lord’s taunting hiss.
“The creature loves you, its death by your hands will be all the sweeter for it.”
Having to pretend to be disgusted.
“Do you really?”
Remus’ eyes full of heartbreak and love.

He broke eye contact but nether moved until the younger man straightened this spine and gave Snape a vicious glare.

“I hope he di-”

They both turned at the distinctive sound of apparation. With lightning reflexes, Potter grabbed Snape’s arm and both disappeared with a crack.

They appeared in a seemingly empty field that was bathed in the light of breaking dawn. Snape immediately recognised the place. He roughly pushed Potter away from him, the force of the shove sending the green eyed man to the floor, not trusting himself not to use the Killing Curse after guessing what the man had been about to say. Anger boiled away in his stomach, and white fury clouded his vision so, when Potter spoke, his hand curled immediately around the wand in his pocket and his fingers twitched at the effort of restraint.

“You do love him don’t you?” The voice was quiet, curious rather than scornful.

“I don’t wish to discuss the matter with you.”

“Please. It.. it helps keep him away.”
Snape turned to the other man who lay curled up on the ground pulling handfuls of grass out of the earth. He looked smaller and younger than his years.
“Please. I can’t. It hurts.

The green eyes were wide and beseeching but Snape was not a man who gave comfort easily.

“Get up and lets be done with it.”

The entrance to Voldemort’s lair was only visible to those who knew of its existence. A simple wooden trapdoor in the middle of a field that, when opened, revealed steep stone steps and a tunnel leading to a huge cavern. Snape stood outside, the unfamiliar wand in his hand felt not quite wrong but uncomfortable. It was old, with deep scratches and the initials F.W carved roughly into the handle.

“Surely you have some happy memories Snape. Your first murder? The time you got that thing burned into your arm?”

Snape lifted the wand and concentrated but for the forth time he still couldn’t conjure a patronus. He had, up until Dumbledore’s death used the memory of his branding with the Dark Mark as his happiest memory. It always made him feel ashamed afterwards, but the feeling of acceptance was the only thing that helped shape a faint, undistinguishable Patronus, that circled his head before delivering his messages to the Order. But now acceptance had been replaced by betrayal, he didn’t even have that memory to use. He bared his teeth in frustration and whirled round to face Potter.
“Im not the only one here with a wand.”
The sarcastic look fell from Potter’s face and was replaced with pure venom.

“I might have had happy memories if it wasn’t for you and your beloved master. What happy memories I did have I can’t reach.”

Snape closed his eyes for a brief moment. He did not want to be reminded of what he had lost but he had no choice. It was the only way of letting The Order know where they were and asking for help.

He held Remus, looking down at his peaceful sleeping face. The shadow of stubble on his chin and his forehead half obscured by his fringe. A small contented smile played on his lips as Severus leaned down and kissed his ear.
“I love you Remus.”
“I love you too.”

A large silver eagle erupted from the wand and circled Snape’s head whose eyes were wide in wonder.

“Of course.” he whispered in awe as he looked upon his Patronus for the first time. It flew south before disappearing over the horizon.

The tunnel was lit by the occasional burning torch, the flames sending their shadows flickering before them. Potter strode confidently ahead despite Snape’s words of caution. Snape knew that the tunnel would not be without at least one guard so it was no surprise when they came face to face with Wormtail. Perhaps he could sense the same dark magic upon Potter that Snape could, or perhaps he was just a coward but whatever it was Wormtail immediately dropped to his knees at the sight of Harry Potter and begged forgiveness promising that he would let them pass without alerting his master. Snape, who didn’t believe a word, heard something about a wizard dept among all the begging and started to formulate plans on how it could be best used to their advantage. So it was to his horror and not inconsiderable anger that Potter, who Snape thought was at times almost fatally trusting, had stepped aside and let Wormtail pass without a word. He raised the borrowed wand, ready to deal with the situation himself, just as the tunnel blazed a blinding green. Potter stood, a cruel smile twisting his face as he lowered his arm. His eyes snapped to Snape’s.

“All traitor’s get what they deserve eventually Snape.” he said in a voice that was laced with undisguised hatred.

For an instant, Snape thought the green eyes had flashed red, but Potter had turned away too quickly for him to be sure.

The cavern was lit with a handful of torches, leaving parts of the cave in darkness and others brightly lit. Voldemort stood in the middle surrounded by two dozen or more Death Eaters.

“Hello Harry,” Voldemort greeted him , his words pleasant, his tone amused. “I see you have decided at last to embrace your fate.”

“You are correct, Voldemort. I am fated to kill you.”

“Ahh, I see you are not alone. Severus, my lost little soul, it isn’t to late for you. Beg me for your forgiveness and I may be merciful.”
Snape could feel the dark magic that had flowed through his veins ever since he took the Dark Mark weakening his resolve. It would be easy to fall to his knees, beg to be allowed to join his former comrades and embrace the beliefs that he had turned his back on all those years ago. He wanted it. The acceptance and the power. It was too difficult to walk the path of the righteous, not when he didn’t belong on it in the first place. “ Come back to me Severus. You belong with your master.” He was being consumed by the dark, the light in his soul being pushed away but his eye caught the gloating manic face of Bellatrix Lestange and the light flared bright.

“NO!” he screamed and before he knew what he had done, Bellatrix Lestrange lay dead on the floor. It wasn’t how he had planned it. His idea of vengeance involved days of relentless torture, not quick painless death, but there was still something satisfying to be found as he looked at her still gloating face.

That was how the final battle began. Snape heard Voldemort’s enraged screaming and the order that he was to be captured alive but it didn’t register. He was too busy dodging hexes and trying to find Greyback. Then the cavern seemed to echo with voices that he recognised as belonging to members of The Order. If anything they added to the chaos; killing curses ricocheted from the walls and the floor soon became slippy with blood. A high pitched wail caused him to stop just as he killed a masked Death Eater. He turned to see Harry Potter being crushed in the arms of Voldemort, his skin blistering where it came into contact with the Dark Lord. Not knowing why but knowing he had to, Snape fought to get as near as he could, noting the two broken wands that lay at their feet. He could see the look of resignation in the green eyes as he slowly became consumed by the dark. His body becoming limp and his breathing slowing down.

“POTTER! POTTER LOOK AT ME!” Snape yelled and when the eyes finally lifted to find his, he shoved all his feelings for Remus into the other mans mind. Potter convulsed once, his eyes sliding shut. “NO!” Snape sank to his knees. As much as he hated Potter, his death meant the victory of the Dark Lord and the triumph of evil.
Albus, I failed you.
Then his arm began to burn. His eyes snapped back up and his heart rose into his throat. Potter was stood with his hands on either side of Voldemort’s head, green eyes meeting red. The Dark Lord began to scream and tried to push Potter away but the man wouldn’t let go. The burning in his arm intensified before spreading to his whole body and he scratched desperately at his skin. In the corner of his vision he could see other black robed figures doing the same. The pain reached a crescendo before stopping abruptly. He just had time to see Harry Potter standing over a pile of bones before darkness washed over him.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

His vision cleared slowly, like mist slowly disappearing on an autumn morning. There was a strange smell that assaulted his nose and made his eyes sting. It was familiar and strange all at the same time. He moved slowly and gave a start of surprise when he felt a thick chain tighten around his ankle and all at once he knew where he was. The smell wasn’t strange now, it was the scent of the sea. He looked at the robes somebody had put him into, grey and white stripes merged together as he fought against a scream of panic. He was in Azkaban.

Wed, 28 Jun 2006 18:41:02 GMT

Sun, 30 Apr 2006 14:02:54 GMT

Title: Realisations
Rating: R
Word count: 2600 ish
Summary: Severus learns of Remus’ true feelings from an unlikely source.Angst
Warnings: Torture,character death
Author Notes: Sequel toShould I love you?
This is written in a different style. Huge thanks to my beta vibishan who cleaned up my grammar and pointed out some awful clichés. All further errors are my fault entirely.Sorry for the awful title.
All Belong to JK Rowling.

Part One

“Petrificus Totalus!”
The spell hit Snape on his left shoulder and he fell heavily, taking Remus’s already battered body with him. He seemed to fall in slow motion and tried desperately, despite his inability to move, to keep Remus from any further injuries. The witch gasped as her mind finally caught up with her instinctive actions and she wrenched Remus from his immobile arms. If Snape could have, he would have hexed the clumsy woman into a thousand pieces, but instead he had no option but to glare at the ceiling.
“Oh God! Moody! It’s Remus! Moody get out here now!”
The portrait that had been wailing since Snape entered the house, was suddenly silenced as a second person joined Nymphadora Tonks in the hallway.
“We need a portkey to St Mungo’s.
“Merlin! Is that Snape?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry, he isn’t going anywhere. Remus is my biggest concern. We need that portkey now.”
“We can’t send him to Mungo’s, you know that Tonks. He won’t make it out of
that place alive, whatever his condition.”  It was Bill Weasley’s voice, soft, yet with an unmistakable edge of bitterness to it. Tonks opened her mouth and started to protest, but Bill interrupted. “You know the werewolves are classed as loyal to Voldemort. I’ll take him to the spare room and call Madame Pomfrey. Will you be ok watching that ?”
Tonks must have nodded because Snape only heard footsteps walking away. Without warning, he lost both his vision and his hearing and, if it hadn’t been for the feeling of his body being dragged across the floor, he would have wondered if he was dead. Then someone lifted him on to what he presumed was a chair and his immobile limbs were moulded so that they could easily be tied down. Abruptly his senses came back and he would have fallen forward to the floor if it not for the ropes around his chest keeping him in place. Lifting his chin, Snape stared at the man in front of him. Alastor Moody stared back, his wand pointing directly at Snape’s heart.
“Why are you here, Snape?”
He didn’t answer, choosing instead to stare defiantly back. He had done what he had meant to do. He had taken Remus to the place that would give him the best chance to save his life and he didn’t have any new information about the Death Eaters to impart. So instead he kept quiet hoping that his silence would give him some small amount of dignity as he waited for the killing curse to hit him. He knew that Moody was capable of it, that all Aurors were trained and permitted to use all three Unforgivables. A Muggle born student once described it as having a licence to kill and at this moment he could understand what they meant. As the minutes grew, his eyes left Moody and slowly took in his surroundings. Grimmauld Place wasn’t a location where he had spent much time; he hadn’t trusted his self discipline enough not to hex the life out of Sirius Black, If he was forced to spend any length of time in the place, then he would usually wait in the library. His gaze travelled to the table in the far corner of the library and, unbidden, a memory of Lupin entered his mind.
Black and Remus were playing Muggle snap with an old set of playing cards that Remus had brought from his flat. Snape’s face was buried behind a book, but every now and then he would risk a quick glance. Remus’ face was a picture of concentration but Black was leaning back in his chair and throwing down cards without really looking. Snape looked down at his book again but jerked his head up at the loud “SNAP”  His felt a sharp stab of jealousy when he saw Remus’ hand lying on top of Black’s.
“You win again Sirius! Perhaps you need a better opponent than me?” Remus turned and smiled at Snape. “Would you like to join us Severus? It will help pass the time until Dumbledore arrives.”
“I don’t think so Lupin.” The sentence was short but the jealousy that was flowing through Snape gave it an edge of disgust. Remus turned from him and gathered the cards into a pile
It had been the last time Remus ever spoke to Snape about anything other than the war or the Wolfsbane potion. Snape was aware of Moody’s harsh voice and he couldn’t get images of Remus from his mind. Remus was screaming and convulsing in his head, and he felt echos of Remus’ still body in his arms. The metallic smell of blood invaded his nose; it wasn’t a smell that disturbed him, even as a small boy and when his own blood had been spilt. It had always held him in a kind of awe, the red liquid that he was certain held the secret of life and magic. But this wasn’t his blood that was soaked through his robes, nor was it some nameless Muggle’s blood drying on his face and hands. Without indication, he vomited down his chest and onto his lap. Moody cursed loudly and the library door burst open. Bill, Arthur, George and Molly Weasley rushed in with their wands drawn.
“What happened to Lupin?” Snape asked Bill, his voice choked and urgent. When he didn’t answer, Snape locked his eyes with the man and pushed into his thoughts. However, he didn’t have time to find what he needed before Moody wrenched his head up by his hair.
“None of your tricks or you will be back in the dark.”
Snape could feel the bile rising again in his throat.
“Tell me!”
Moody gave a mirthless laugh and waved a hand at the ropes that bound Snape.
“I think you will find you are in no position to be issuing orders. Now I will ask you again, why are you here?”
“Answer my question first and then I’ll talk. So I ask you again,
what has happened to Remus?”
“Oh it’s Remus is it ?”
Severus felt his face heat at the obvious implication of the words.
“It is no business of yours what I choose to call the man.”
Moody’s face twisted in anger and he jabbed his wand into Snape’s chest.
“Dumbledore died to guarantee your place in the Death Eaters and you have just thrown his sacrifice away.”
Snape was too angry to realise the significance of Moody’s words and he replied in a low, dangerous voice.
“You would rather Remus had died tonight?”
Moody didn’t flinch as he answered.
“Yes. Quickly and cleanly. Instead you have given up our biggest chance of winning this war for somebody who is going to die anyway. And for what? Love? Despite what Dumbledore thought, I don’t believe for one second that you are capable of it.”
Snape could not help but shut his eyes as he replied.
“To satisfy the Dark Lord, his death would not have been quick or clean. I had no choice.” he kept his eyes shut as Moody continued to rant. It was only when Arthur Weasley interrupted, did Snape open his eyes.
“Snape’s not a traitor? I don’t understand, he murdered Dumbledore. Half the ministry is after him. You have been chasing him. ”
Moody answered slowly and almost reluctantly.
“Dumbledore was dying and thought using Snape would secure his place as a loyal Death Eater. Potter and I were the only ones who knew. We found out just after the funeral. Dumbledore knew Potter would hate Snape just as much as Voldemort and that he would go looking for revenge. He also knew I wouldn’t rest until the traitor was brought to justice. I had to give the impression I was after him, it would have been too suspicious otherwise.”
“Did Remus know?” asked Molly, her voice quiet, and all eyes turned to Snape who nodded before settling his gaze on the floor. A soft hand tipped up his chin and he found himself staring at Mrs Weasley. “He’s lost a lot of blood,” she said, not taking her hand from Snape’s face. “and he is still seriously ill but Madam Pomfrey is with him.” He could see a flicker of understanding in the woman’s eyes. “It was you, wasn’t it?” she said. “It was you who sent the warning about...” her voice became choked and she nodded her head towards George who had moved to stand next to his mother. He looked so different now, thought Snape. His face was pale with large, haunted eyes which had lost their twinkle of mischievousness. Snape suspected that the devil may care attitude and the ability to find the good in any situation was long gone.
“I’m sorry I was too late.” was all Snape could manage to say. He had known of the plan to attack the joke shop an hour before it was to take place, yet it had took him most of that time to decide to send Fawkes. The loss of the twins would be a sad loss, he had debated to himself, but they weren’t an integral part of the order It would have been extremely foolhardy to risk arousing suspicion that there was a traitor in the Death Eaters unless it was absolutely necessary. However, as the hour of the attack approached he grew restless and, cursing himself for being a reckless fool, he sent Fawkes to the Order with the hope that the Aurors’s intervention in the attack would be seen only as bad luck. That was what Voldemort believed, and Snape thanked whatever higher power had granted him that bit of luck, although the Dark Lord’s temper lasted for weeks after and he found himself suffering the effects of prolonged Cruciatus more than once.
Arthur Weasley walked across the room, his face determined as he pointed his wand at Snape. Seconds later, the filth covering Snape was wiped away and the ropes binding him fell to the floor.
“What in Merlin’s name are you doing, Arthur?” screamed Moody.
“He isn’t the traitor we thought he was, Alastor, you have just told us that,” Arthur replied calmly. “We can’t treat him like one just for doing what any one of us would have done for someone we love.” Immediately Snape’s emotional barriers caused him to splutter a denial, but no one heard him because all attention was on the two men who had their wands drawn against each other.
“How dare you! I was an Auror before you were even born Weasley! What gives you the right to-
“HE SAVED MY SON! That’s what right I have.” Arthur turned to Bill.
“Go and explain the situation to Tonks.” he then turned a bright shade of red and gave Snape an apologetic glance “About Dumbledore’s death I mean; no need to mention, er, Snape and, er, Remus.”
“Alright dad, but give me five minutes ok? This is going to take quite a bit of explaining.”
Snape rubbed at his sore wrists as he watched Bill, then George, leave the room. He felt emotionally stretched; one wrong word and he knew he would snap. Fortunately, Moody only glared at him before leaving the room while Molly and Arthur spoke in hushed whispers. However, Snape couldn’t’t help but notice the amount of time that Tonks’ name seemed to be mentioned. It was common knowledge that the girl had a crush on Remus but surely, thought Snape, it was one sided. The longer he listened to snatches of the conversation, however, the more he began to doubt the love he had seen in Lupin’s eyes.
He loves me, but what if it is just love borne of respect and familiarity?  He isn’t in love with me. The Dark Lord classes love the same, it’s all a weakness to him. How could Remus Lupin want someone like me when he could have that girl who would be open and honest about her feelings and who would never, ever hurt him as I already have? How could one week a month of emotionless sex compete with that?
Unable to wait any longer, he walked from the library.
Nymphadora Tonks was holding Remus’ hand when Snape barged into the room but he refused to look at that and concentrated on Remus instead. He looked like he was sleeping, his eyes shut and his breathing regular. A clean white sheet covered him to the top of his chest, leaving only his head, neck, arms and hands exposed. Snape had an almost uncontrollable urge to stroke the man’s face, but instead he sat in the free chair and looked at the sleeping man.
“Madame Pomfrey has just left. Bill told me what you did for him. I don’t know what I would have done if he had died. Thank you.”
Snape didn’t’t answer, he couldn’t. His eyes didn’t seem to be able to leave their entwined fingers. He hadn’t planned to do it, but when he looked up, he slipped effortlessly into the woman’s mind.
“I love you Remus, you do believe me don’t you? This isn’t some teenage crush, I know what I feel.”  Despite the presence of the other mourners, she kissed Remus passionately. He kissed her back, tears streaming down his face but then he broke away abruptly.
“I can’t do this , it’s not right.”
“Dumbledore wouldn’t have-”
“This isn’t about Dumbledore! I…I don’t love you Tonks, I would be using you.” Remus’ breath came in gasps and he ran a hand across his face. “ I love someone else. A man. I can’t be with him but I can‘t just switch off my feelings.”
“Its Sirius Black isn’t it?” she asked. He opened his mouth but she cut him off. “He’s dead Remus.”
Remus shook his head and gave a small smile.
“It’s not Sirius. He was straight for a start. I loved him but not like I love-” Remus’ face twisted in pain and he buried his face in his hands. “It doesn’t matter now anyway.”
   “Then have me! I know you’ll forget about him one day and I will be here for you.”
“I wont forget about him! Ever! You have to understand that, Nymphadora. I will love him until I take my last breath.”

Snape was forced from the memory and found him self staring at the shocked face of the witch who dropped Remus’ hand as if burnt before fleeing from the room. Snape looked down at the sleeping man and felt an aching sense of lost time and wasted opportunities.
You weren’t in love with Black. Im so sorry.
Gently he lifted the man’s hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers.
“I should have told you.” he whispered “I should have told you that I lo-”
Snape didn’t get to finish the sentence. He hadn’t seen the wand being drawn. He didn’t hear the hissed “Crucio,” until it was too late.

Realistations

Tue, 18 Apr 2006 20:17:31 GMT

Title: Realisations
Rating: R
Word count: 2600 ish
Summary: Severus learns of Remus’ true feelings from an unlikely source.Angst
Warnings: Torture
Author Notes: Sequel toShould I love you?
This is written in a different style. Huge thanks to my beta vibishan who cleaned up my grammar and pointed out some awful clichés. All further errors are my fault entirely.

“Severus…Severus, are you awake?”
Of course he was, he had been for the last hour. Holding Lupin, watching him get dressed through cracked eyelids. This morning had been the same as the previous six and would be the last one like it for three weeks.
“The Wolfsbane is on the table.” He wrapped the blanket around himself and
turned away from Remus, worried that this disruption in the routine signalled the end of things. For a year now there had been no change in either of their actions. From the very first time that Lupin stumbled into the wooden hut hidden deep in the Welsh mountains and stuttered the password that Dumbledore’s portrait had given him, they had followed strict guidelines. Everyday of the week that Remus needed to take the potion that let him keep
his mind, he would visit Severus, and together they would work late into the night on Order business. Severus was still unsure how, even as early as that first meeting, they had ended up sleeping together. The event, however, was burned into his memory. The way Lupin had gone to leave only to stop and turn back suddenly. He remembered the way the candle light picked out the grey in Lupin’s hair and the way his eyes held a feverish glint. Being pushed to the floor, two sets of robes being torn away and Lupin repeating over and over “ I knew you were innocent, I knew, I knew.” In that moment Snape realised with a jolt that Lupin was thinking of Black but he wouldn’t stop what was happening, so instead he kissed Lupin just to shut him up. It was their first, and only, kiss. As always, Lupin would leave at dawn
without a word only to return in the evening. They only ever spoke about the war. Never anything else.
“No, it’s not about that, I…”
Scowling to cover his uncertainty and mounting dread, Severus turned to the
other man.
“Whatever you are going to say, just say it” Instinctively his fingers tightened on the blankets as if he would find some comfort from them.
“Tomorrow can I, that is if you don’t mind, can I come back?”
Severus answered with another question laden with deeply ingrained suspicion.
“Why?” He saw Lupin’s shoulders set, could see he was on the verge of telling him to forget it, so he spoke again, this time the tone a little softer. “Wouldn’t you rather be in more comfortable surroundings to recuperate after tonight’s full moon?”
“Grimmauld Place is hardly the most comfortable of houses Severus, and I just can’t face being there tomorrow.” Remus looked over at Severus who seemed to be waiting for more. He lowered his eyes as he spoke. “It will be two years tomorrow since Sirius fell and that place as good as pushed him.”
Please say yes. Tomorrow more than ever I need to know you are safe.
“Is there nowhere else you could be?” Remus shook his head even though it was a lie and Severus considered him carefully, studying the surface emotions, not wanting to look any deeper. His pride was at war with his heart. He’s using you, fool. Do you think he would be here if his beloved Black was still alive? “If you cannot find somewhere else to be, then you may spend some time here. I, however, wont be arriving until noon. Perhaps you could clean the place up, then at least it wont be a completely useless visit.” He watched as the other man slowly nodded and walked away.
Go Lupin. Go and wash my touch from your skin before you weep for your lost love. I will be here, your distraction, waiting for you.
He stared down at the empty space in his bed and gently ran his hand over the pillow that Lupin’s head had been lying on. It was cold under Snape’s fingers as he moved his hand over the slight indent. What he had with Lupin was so unexpected and so close to his dreams that he had been content, at first, with purely physical satisfaction, but now he was left feeling empty. He had Lupin’s body but he would never have his heart.
******************
Snape stalked back and forth, his irritation growing with every step. The sun was slowly sinking and still the werewolf hadn’t arrived. He berated himself for allowing that small glimmer of anticipation, for forgetting who he was, that his company was not desired, only used.
How easy it should be to hate you.
He heard a soft, low whistle, and turned just as Fawkes settled upon his shoulder. It was several days after Dumbledore’s death when the phoenix had come gliding through the window and settled on the distraught mans knee. Moments earlier he had been about to give up, the horror of what he had done had finally ripped through the haze of adrenalin, and now that Draco was safely in hiding he felt he couldn’t go on. Then, as the bird began to sing, he heard Dumbledore’s voice giving him words of comfort and suddenly he saw Lupin in his mind, smiling at him, and he remembered just who had turned him from darkness all those years ago.
“You look terrible, Fawkes,” he said as he carried the bird to his perch in a secret room at the back of the hut. No one, not even Remus, knew that the phoenix had come to him. He had used him mostly to carry messages warning about imminent Death Eater raids to the Order, hoping that the members would be more inclined to believe the anonymous sender if they knew that he or she had the trust of Dumbledore’s loyal bird. He knew that he had prevented deaths on more than one occasion; he also knew that sometimes he had been too late. As he watched the bird burst into flames he thought again of Remus and how he could never hate him.
The sharp stabbing pain in his arm drove all thoughts of the other man out of his mind. The summons was not totally unexpected but as ever he felt a rush of fear, followed by a numb sense of calm. Moments later he found himself kneeling before The Dark Lord in a cold damp room.
“Stand, my loyal follower. I have a small task for you.” Snape got slowly to his feet, keeping all feelings of guilt deeply buried. “It is one I am sure you will find most enjoyable. Bella, bring in the prisoner.” Snape heard the witch give a small excited laugh before leaving the room, only to return moments later dragging, with the aid of Greyback, the bruised and bloody form of Remus Lupin. Only his rigid self control prevented Snape from giving a gasp of horror, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the man at his feet. He was aware of Greyback explaining how Remus had been caught spying on the pack the previous evening and how he had tried to stop the mauling of a Muggle family, but the voice seemed distant and somehow unreal. His eyes took in every visible injury on the naked man. Bruises covered most of his face, but they could be easily healed. What terrified him most was the ragged bite mark at Remus’ waist and the deep straight cuts to his chest and stomach which were obviously made by a wand or a weapon.
“Time to wake up, half breed,” the witch said as she pointed her wand at the prone man. He awoke with a gasp, blood trickling slowly from his mouth, his unfocused eyes fearful. When his sight fell on Snape, he struggled wildly against his bonds, but weak from blood loss and transformation, he soon stilled. He tried to speak but all that came was a hoarse whisper and his eyes, which never left Snape’s, widened even further in horror.
Run Severus, he knows! He knows that I love you, he knows what we did!
Voldemort laughed as he walked in front of Lupin.
“He wants you to run Severus, he thinks that I was unaware of your involvement.” Voldemort knelt in front of Lupin and caressed his cheek in some twisted parody of tenderness. “ Do you believe that he would willingly touch you if it wasn’t on my orders? How easy it was to continue gathering information on the Order, even after Severus could not do so directly. Oh my poor misguided creature, I have known from the beginning. ” Lupin shook and Voldemort laughed again. “ Love really is a weakness.” He rose and turned to Severus. “The creature loves you, its death by your hands will be all the sweeter for it.” Severus’ mind reeled; surely his Lord was mistaken about Remus’ feelings? He looked down at the broken man who bowed his head before him. He had to know. Whatever he heard from Remus would not change his own feelings, but he needed confirmation.
“Do you really?” The words were spat out with false disgust. Remus slowly raised his head and locked his eyes with the dark haired man. In that instant, even before Remus nodded, Severus knew the answer. He could read the hurt of betrayal in Remus’s eyes and the love that was still present in spite of it. Once, he had dreamt that Remus loved him, but that only happened when he was asleep and such thoughts could not be blocked out. In his waking hours he sometimes pretended that it could be true, but his mind knew it was only a fantasy. He had never allowed himself to believe that Remus harboured the same feelings, had never considered it as a possibility. But now….
He longed to sweep the man into his arms and pour out his feelings of love. Instead he knew he had to do the opposite and it burned his heart to think he had come so close to the one thing he truly wanted, only to destroy it. Time seemed to stretch out, silence punctuated by frequent cracks as more Death Eater’s arrived. Abruptly, he came to a decision and, pushing a look of revulsion on to his face, turned to Voldemort.
“My Lord, it would give me great satisfaction to be rid of the animal, but it has proved a useful tool. Perhaps it would be wise to modify its memory instead ?” Severus forced himself not to hold his breath and instead concentrated on allowing feelings of loyalty to rise to the surface of his mind.
“Are you questioning my judgment Severus? I want it destroyed. I thought you would want rid of it too, yet you want it spared. Maybe your reluctance is less about your loyalty to me and more about him. Tell me, am I to believe that you have grown attached to the creature?”
“It is a werewolf my Lord, it is less than human. It, along with its lover Sirius Black, tried to kill me when I was at school. How could I ever feel anything other than revulsion and hate?” He kept his eyes upon Voldemort, the memories of that fateful night replaying over and over in his head as he blocked out the faint whimpering from Remus who lay heartbroken on the floor.
“My cousin? You dare to touch a pureblood with your filthy half breed flesh? Crucio!”
It seemed to take an age for Severus to turn and draw his wand, and all the while he could hear Remus screaming and see, from the corner of his vision, his body convulsing on the floor.
“NO! HE IS MINE!” The force of the nonverbal spell sent the witch staggering into the wall of Death Eaters and her wand skittering across the floor. She glared at Snape and was just about to retaliate when Voldemort laughed.
“Bella, you must learn to share, you have had all morning with the creature. Severus, get rid of it now.”
“As you wish my Lord.”
He walked over to Remus, his steps echoing as the room became silent. He could feel the excitement and expectation in the air and in some ways that comforted him because it felt the same every time a prisoner was put to death. He roughly pulled Remus to his feet, which was awkward as the man was bound hand and foot and barely able to support his own weight. Severus quickly and quietly mouthed the counter curse to lift the anti apparition spell placed upon the man in his arms but it did not go unnoticed by an eagle eyed Death Eater whose hastily thrown expelliarmus only caught him a glancing blow. He disapparated without his wand but with Remus safely in his arms.
He stumbled a little when he reappeared on the dark misty street but he kept a firm grip on the other man. He had done it, had snatched Remus to safety. All he had to do now was declare his true feelings and make the man believe what he said was only uttered out of necessity.
“Remus, you are safe now. What I said, I…I didn’t mean any of it.” There was no answer, and when Severus looked down his heart nearly stopped. Remus was deathly pale, his eyes glassy and unfocused. Severus had seen people on the edge of death many times and he couldn’t fail to recognise it now. Gently he lowered the man to the ground and wrapped the still form in his Cloak before lifting him onto his lap. The pavement was painfully hard beneath his knees but he paid no heed to that. Instead his concentration was fixed solely upon the man in his arms from whom blood dripped slowly to the concrete. Even in the dim orange glow of the Muggle street light, he could see the path becoming stained a sickening black. “Not now, not like this.” he whispered as he rocked the unconscious form in his arms. “Please.” He pulled the man nearer and buried his face into the matted hair. “You need to know it was all lies” but the man remained oblivious.
He’s dying. He will never know.
The thought came unasked for into his mind and he was almost sick. He didn’t know how long he sat on that cold street until he heard a gasp as Remus inhaled. It broke him out of his stupor and, without consciously thinking about it, he stood lifting Remus in his arms as if he weighed next to nothing.
I will not let him go.
“Damm you Lupin, fight.”
Severus crossed the road to the place he thought would never again be visible to his supposedly traitorous eyes. He knew setting foot in the place would bring an end to his freedom, perhaps even his life, but to give Remus a chance he would pay that price a thousand times over. He stood at the door now and, unwilling to put Remus on the ground, he kicked at it with a heavy boot. Severus seemed to wait forever for the door of twelve Grimmauld Place to open, but when it did his ears filled with the noise of a wailing portrait and his eyes met the bloodshot gaze of Nymphadora Tonks.

Realistations

Tue, 18 Apr 2006 20:13:41 GMT

Title: Realisations
Rating: R
Word count: 2600 ish
Summary: Severus learns of Remus’ true feelings from an unlikely source.
Warnings: Torture
Author Notes: Sequel toShould I love you?
This is written in a different style. Huge thanks to my beta vibishan who cleaned up my grammar and pointed out some awful clichés. All further errors are my fault entirely.

“Severus…Severus, are you awake?”
Of course he was, he had been for the last hour. Holding Lupin, watching him get dressed through cracked eyelids. This morning had been the same as the previous six and would be the last one like it for three weeks.
“The Wolfsbane is on the table.” He wrapped the blanket around himself and
turned away from Remus, worried that this disruption in the routine signalled the end of things. For a year now there had been no change in either of their actions. From the very first time that Lupin stumbled into the wooden hut hidden deep in the Welsh mountains and stuttered the password that Dumbledore’s portrait had given him, they had followed strict guidelines. Everyday of the week that Remus needed to take the potion that let him keep
his mind, he would visit Severus, and together they would work late into the night on Order business. Severus was still unsure how, even as early as that first meeting, they had ended up sleeping together. The event, however, was burned into his memory. The way Lupin had gone to leave only to stop and turn back suddenly. He remembered the way the candle light picked out the grey in Lupin’s hair and the way his eyes held a feverish glint. Being pushed to the floor, two sets of robes being torn away and Lupin repeating over and over “ I knew you were innocent, I knew, I knew.” In that moment Snape realised with a jolt that Lupin was thinking of Black but he wouldn’t stop what was happening, so instead he kissed Lupin just to shut him up. It was their first, and only, kiss. As always, Lupin would leave at dawn
without a word only to return in the evening. They only ever spoke about the war. Never anything else.
“No, it’s not about that, I…”
Scowling to cover his uncertainty and mounting dread, Severus turned to the
other man.
“Whatever you are going to say, just say it” Instinctively his fingers tightened on the blankets as if he would find some comfort from them.
“Tomorrow can I, that is if you don’t mind, can I come back?”
Severus answered with another question laden with deeply ingrained suspicion.
“Why?” He saw Lupin’s shoulders set, could see he was on the verge of telling him to forget it, so he spoke again, this time the tone a little softer. “Wouldn’t you rather be in more comfortable surroundings to recuperate after tonight’s full moon?”
“Grimmauld Place is hardly the most comfortable of houses Severus, and I just can’t face being there tomorrow.” Remus looked over at Severus who seemed to be waiting for more. He lowered his eyes as he spoke. “It will be two years tomorrow since Sirius fell and that place as good as pushed him.”
Please say yes. Tomorrow more than ever I need to know you are safe.
“Is there nowhere else you could be?” Remus shook his head even though it was a lie and Severus considered him carefully, studying the surface emotions, not wanting to look any deeper. His pride was at war with his heart. He’s using you, fool. Do you think he would be here if his beloved Black was still alive? “If you cannot find somewhere else to be, then you may spend some time here. I, however, wont be arriving until noon. Perhaps you could clean the place up, then at least it wont be a completely useless visit.” He watched as the other man slowly nodded and walked away.
Go Lupin. Go and wash my touch from your skin before you weep for your lost love. I will be here, your distraction, waiting for you.
He stared down at the empty space in his bed and gently ran his hand over the pillow that Lupin’s head had been lying on. It was cold under Snape’s fingers as he moved his hand over the slight indent. What he had with Lupin was so unexpected and so close to his dreams that he had been content, at first, with purely physical satisfaction, but now he was left feeling empty. He had Lupin’s body but he would never have his heart.
******************
Snape stalked back and forth, his irritation growing with every step. The sun was slowly sinking and still the werewolf hadn’t arrived. He berated himself for allowing that small glimmer of anticipation, for forgetting who he was, that his company was not desired, only used.
How easy it should be to hate you.
He heard a soft, low whistle, and turned just as Fawkes settled upon his shoulder. It was several days after Dumbledore’s death when the phoenix had come gliding through the window and settled on the distraught mans knee. Moments earlier he had been about to give up, the horror of what he had done had finally ripped through the haze of adrenalin, and now that Draco was safely in hiding he felt he couldn’t go on. Then, as the bird began to sing, he heard Dumbledore’s voice giving him words of comfort and suddenly he saw Lupin in his mind, smiling at him, and he remembered just who had turned him from darkness all those years ago.
“You look terrible, Fawkes,” he said as he carried the bird to his perch in a secret room at the back of the hut. No one, not even Remus, knew that the phoenix had come to him. He had used him mostly to carry messages warning about imminent Death Eater raids to the Order, hoping that the members would be more inclined to believe the anonymous sender if they knew that he or she had the trust of Dumbledore’s loyal bird. He knew that he had prevented deaths on more than one occasion; he also knew that sometimes he had been too late. As he watched the bird burst into flames he thought again of Remus and how he could never hate him.
The sharp stabbing pain in his arm drove all thoughts of the other man out of his mind. The summons was not totally unexpected but as ever he felt a rush of fear, followed by a numb sense of calm. Moments later he found himself kneeling before The Dark Lord in a cold damp room.
“Stand, my loyal follower. I have a small task for you.” Snape got slowly to his feet, keeping all feelings of guilt deeply buried. “It is one I am sure you will find most enjoyable. Bella, bring in the prisoner.” Snape heard the witch give a small excited laugh before leaving the room, only to return moments later dragging, with the aid of Greyback, the bruised and bloody form of Remus Lupin. Only his rigid self control prevented Snape from giving a gasp of horror, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the man at his feet. He was aware of Greyback explaining how Remus had been caught spying on the pack the previous evening and how he had tried to stop the mauling of a Muggle family, but the voice seemed distant and somehow unreal. His eyes took in every visible injury on the naked man. Bruises covered most of his face, but they could be easily healed. What terrified him most was the ragged bite mark at Remus’ waist and the deep straight cuts to his chest and stomach which were obviously made by a wand or a weapon.
“Time to wake up, half breed,” the witch said as she pointed her wand at the prone man. He awoke with a gasp, blood trickling slowly from his mouth, his unfocused eyes fearful. When his sight fell on Snape, he struggled wildly against his bonds, but weak from blood loss and transformation, he soon stilled. He tried to speak but all that came was a hoarse whisper and his eyes, which never left Snape’s, widened even further in horror.
Run Severus, he knows! He knows that I love you, he knows what we did!
Voldemort laughed as he walked in front of Lupin.
“He wants you to run Severus, he thinks that I was unaware of your involvement.” Voldemort knelt in front of Lupin and caressed his cheek in some twisted parody of tenderness. “ Do you believe that he would willingly touch you if it wasn’t on my orders? How easy it was to continue gathering information on the Order, even after Severus could not do so directly. Oh my poor misguided creature, I have known from the beginning. ” Lupin shook and Voldemort laughed again. “ Love really is a weakness.” He rose and turned to Severus. “The creature loves you, its death by your hands will be all the sweeter for it.” Severus’ mind reeled; surely his Lord was mistaken about Remus’ feelings? He looked down at the broken man who bowed his head before him. He had to know. Whatever he heard from Remus would not change his own feelings, but he needed confirmation.
“Do you really?” The words were spat out with false disgust. Remus slowly raised his head and locked his eyes with the dark haired man. In that instant, even before Remus nodded, Severus knew the answer. He could read the hurt of betrayal in Remus’s eyes and the love that was still present in spite of it. Once, he had dreamt that Remus loved him, but that only happened when he was asleep and such thoughts could not be blocked out. In his waking hours he sometimes pretended that it could be true, but his mind knew it was only a fantasy. He had never allowed himself to believe that Remus harboured the same feelings, had never considered it as a possibility. But now….
He longed to sweep the man into his arms and pour out his feelings of love. Instead he knew he had to do the opposite and it burned his heart to think he had come so close to the one thing he truly wanted, only to destroy it. Time seemed to stretch out, silence punctuated by frequent cracks as more Death Eater’s arrived. Abruptly, he came to a decision and, pushing a look of revulsion on to his face, turned to Voldemort.
“My Lord, it would give me great satisfaction to be rid of the animal, but it has proved a useful tool. Perhaps it would be wise to modify its memory instead ?” Severus forced himself not to hold his breath and instead concentrated on allowing feelings of loyalty to rise to the surface of his mind.
“Are you questioning my judgment Severus? I want it destroyed. I thought you would want rid of it too, yet you want it spared. Maybe your reluctance is less about your loyalty to me and more about him. Tell me, am I to believe that you have grown attached to the creature?”
“It is a werewolf my Lord, it is less than human. It, along with its lover Sirius Black, tried to kill me when I was at school. How could I ever feel anything other than revulsion and hate?” He kept his eyes upon Voldemort, the memories of that fateful night replaying over and over in his head as he blocked out the faint whimpering from Remus who lay heartbroken on the floor.
“My cousin? You dare to touch a pureblood with your filthy half breed flesh? Crucio!”
It seemed to take an age for Severus to turn and draw his wand, and all the while he could hear Remus screaming and see, from the corner of his vision, his body convulsing on the floor.
“NO! HE IS MINE!” The force of the nonverbal spell sent the witch staggering into the wall of Death Eaters and her wand skittering across the floor. She glared at Snape and was just about to retaliate when Voldemort laughed.
“Bella, you must learn to share, you have had all morning with the creature. Severus, get rid of it now.”
“As you wish my Lord.”
He walked over to Remus, his steps echoing as the room became silent. He could feel the excitement and expectation in the air and in some ways that comforted him because it felt the same every time a prisoner was put to death. He roughly pulled Remus to his feet, which was awkward as the man was bound hand and foot and barely able to support his own weight. Severus quickly and quietly mouthed the counter curse to lift the anti apparition spell placed upon the man in his arms but it did not go unnoticed by an eagle eyed Death Eater whose hastily thrown expelliarmus only caught him a glancing blow. He disapparated without his wand but with Remus safely in his arms.
He stumbled a little when he reappeared on the dark misty street but he kept a firm grip on the other man. He had done it, had snatched Remus to safety. All he had to do now was declare his true feelings and make the man believe what he said was only uttered out of necessity.
“Remus, you are safe now. What I said, I…I didn’t mean any of it.” There was no answer, and when Severus looked down his heart nearly stopped. Remus was deathly pale, his eyes glassy and unfocused. Severus had seen people on the edge of death many times and he couldn’t fail to recognise it now. Gently he lowered the man to the ground and wrapped the still form in his Cloak before lifting him onto his lap. The pavement was painfully hard beneath his knees but he paid no heed to that. Instead his concentration was fixed solely upon the man in his arms from whom blood dripped slowly to the concrete. Even in the dim orange glow of the Muggle street light, he could see the path becoming stained a sickening black. “Not now, not like this.” he whispered as he rocked the unconscious form in his arms. “Please.” He pulled the man nearer and buried his face into the matted hair. “You need to know it was all lies” but the man remained oblivious.
He’s dying. He will never know.
The thought came unasked for into his mind and he was almost sick. He didn’t know how long he sat on that cold street until he heard a gasp as Remus inhaled. It broke him out of his stupor and, without consciously thinking about it, he stood lifting Remus in his arms as if he weighed next to nothing.
I will not let him go.
“Damm you Lupin, fight.”
Severus crossed the road to the place he thought would never again be visible to his supposedly traitorous eyes. He knew setting foot in the place would bring an end to his freedom, perhaps even his life, but to give Remus a chance he would pay that price a thousand times over. He stood at the door now and, unwilling to put Remus on the ground, he kicked at it with a heavy boot. Severus seemed to wait forever for the door of twelve Grimmauld Place to open, but when it did his ears filled with the noise of a wailing portrait and his eyes met the bloodshot gaze of Nymphadora Tonks.

Sat, 11 Mar 2006 00:59:15 GMT

Wrote this original story months and months ago.Its a bit rough.

Sleeping Beauty

You’ve been asleep since the age of eighteen and you know it, yet you are powerless to wake up. The world at your feet; daddies little princess. You should have gone far. Beautiful, though you don’t know it, you have a kind, placid nature. Your mind, once so sharp, is now blunted after long years of inactivity and mental lethargy. Nine years ago you fell asleep.
Sometimes, when at last you catch the physical sleep that has for dark hours out run you, the dreams you have are so vivid with colour and life and energy that your mind never wants to wake up. You wake anyway.
You never remember your dreams which is a blessing. For though they would make you smile, the fact that they are only dreams and in reality you don’t feel the wind bite at your face with such force and you don’t smell a strange leatherpetrolcigarette mix surround you and make you feel safe, would only torment you with false promises of adventure. Your dull house on a dull, grey, rain soaked street would become even more colourless and you would slip further into the coma you are in. Your dreams would kill you faster than your life is.
For nine years, three hundred and sixty four days, you have been asleep. Its your birthday, not something you like to celebrate. You received a card and a pair of earrings from your parents along with a promise that they would come and visit soon. You roll the earrings around your hand and wonder if they have by now realised that you don’t have your ears pieced, since from birth you have had an irrational fear of needles and pins. Setting the jewellery aside, you get to your feet, pull on your coat and step out into the rain to catch the 8:15 bus to work.
Despite your best efforts, the girls in the office have remembered it is your birthday and set about you with questions on which pub you all will be celebrating in later. You weakly protest, say you don’t want to celebrate, you have things to do. The look of absolute condescension almost makes you flinch and when they ask “just what is so important that you have to give up a birthday drink?” you feel so unimportant and ashamed that all you can do is shrug and agree to meet them in the pub by seven. You are not stupid; you know that they want to get you in the pub not to make you happy, but for the money in your purse. It is, after all, your birthday, so you should buy the drinks.
Twenty minutes you have been sitting at the table. The half drunk coke is surrounded by your hands and you nervously tap at the glass with a fingernail. It is getting busy, you hate crowds and the noise from the jukebox is giving you a headache. Taking a deep breath of smoke filled air, you decide you are going home no matter what the girls say. Craning your neck, you locate your colleagues at the bar. It doesn’t surprise you. They are flirting with a good looking tall man and his shorter, rotund friend who both seem to be enjoying the attention, in fact the short man looks like all his birthdays and Christmases have come at once. You watch the scene and feel a small stab of pity before returning your gaze to your work mates. ‘The Three Witches’ you call them in your head but by nature you would never speak the thought aloud. They are not an ugly trio, that you admit to yourself, and have been blessed with no small measure of beauty but, like many with the gift of good looks, they are vain.
“Are these chairs free?” The sentence snaps your eyes from the witches and to the woman stood before you. Feeling extremely awkward you nod without looking at her companions. You look down at the table, at the floor, at your drink, before returning your eyes to the table. Wanting nothing more than to get home, you take an over large gulp of the drink; it’s not quite lost its fizz and the bubbles make you cough. With streaming eyes, you feel like an idiot.
“Gone down the wrong way?” Biting your lip, you look at the woman. Her tone is friendly; she isn’t mocking you. Pasting on a smile, you cough, nod and roll your eyes to the ceiling before taking a look at the woman. She has a friendly open face with large eyes heavily lined in black. Her, you guess at boyfriend, has his arm around her shoulder. You drop your eyes back to your drink.
Hours disguised as seconds go by and you again start to feel awkward. You look towards the bar and see the short man nursing his pint and looking glum. Realising the witches have left, you relax. The crowds don’t seem as oppressive and the smoke less choking. You decide to be sociable and make conversation so you look up at the three. The woman you have seen, her boyfriend as well. Then you see the third. His fingers are tracing the patterns of the wooden table top and when he looks up you have to swallow to stop the gasp escaping your throat. His eyes are a piercing, almost unnatural blue which contrast with his jet black hair that brushes the collar of his leather jacket. You gulp. He turns in your direction and your stomach knots but you realise he is not looking at you, but past, you. Berating yourself for being so stupid you take another mouthful of your drink. The woman and her boyfriend get up and turn to the man with the unnatural eyes and ask him if he wants a game of pool. To your surprise he shakes his head and stretches back in his seat. You can’t leave now, you tell yourself, because it would be rude to leave him on his own.
“Would you like a drink?” You know the sensible thing would be to say no, but his voice is so deep that it seems to roll through you before settling in your stomach. Finding your voice you tell him yes you would like a drink and, when he grins at you before standing and walking to the bar, his smile has joined his voice in your stomach. You watch him fight his way to the bar; he isn’t tall but his broad shoulders make up for that. Minutes later he is walking back to your table with two drinks; he is forced to take a zig zag path as the pub is so crowded and it seems like he is battling through a dense forest of human trees. Placing the two drinks on the table, he stretches back and tells you his name is Paul. When you tell him yours he merely raises an eyebrow. You don’t feel offended, you know your name is unusual and his response is one of the better that you have received. You find him surprisingly easy to talk to and when he tells you a joke you can’t help but laugh, the sound seems alien to your ears. You are still laughing when he asks you what you do for a living but he must notice your rapid change of demeanour, because he asks if you enjoy your job. Without hesitation you tell him you hate it.
“ Well, what do you want to be doing then?”
You redden slightly before answering that you always wanted to be a teacher.
“So why aren’t you a teacher then?”
“I don’t deserve to be.” The answer is from your lips before you even have chance to think and to your surprise you can’t stop talking. Everything comes pouring out. Ten years ago, a disgruntled employee at your parents clothing firm, the fire. Your parents never blamed you but that didn’t matter; you blamed yourself enough for the both of them. It was you who gave him the keys to the factory, it was you who trusted him. The family lost everything. The insurance firm wouldn’t pay out. One hundred and seven people lost their jobs but three men died. You fall quiet, lost to the recollections. They were good men, like family. You knew them since birth and you killed them.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Of course it was my fault!” Your voice is raised, the first time in years.
“Don’t be stupid, you were what, eighteen? You fell for the poison dripped in your ear by some charmer. Ok, so you were naïve, but you weren’t the first and you certainly wont be the last. What you need to decide is if you are going to keep acting the martyr, because if you are you might as well have died along with those men.”
You are shocked beyond words but you feel something, deep inside, beginning to awaken.
“ I’m sorry if I upset you.”
You look up at him and for the first time you make eye contact. You smile and then, without warning, yawn.
“Do you want a lift home?”
You know you should be cautious, but you don’t want to be. He jumps to his feet and you copy and follow him out of the pub.
You gasp as he leads you to a black motorbike. Even though its dark, you can tell that it is beautiful. He hands you the spare helmet and hops on to the bike, you get on behind him and, however much you want to grasp him around the waist, you hold on to the bar behind you. The journey is short, barely ten minutes and you soon find yourself handing him back the helmet. It is him that seems shy now and you are about to walk back into the house when he calls you back. He takes out a card and a pen and he scribbles something on it before handing it to you. He smiles, flips down his visor, then drives off. You walk under a street lamp and look at the card. P. Charming: Mechanic and under that a phone number. There is a message too, written in untidy biro. You deserve to be whatever you want to be. This is followed by an X. You look up just in time to see him turning a corner, riding away on his trusty steed.
The house seems warmer somehow when you finally get in. You are tired and fight the urge to fall asleep on the sofa. The next morning, when you rub sleep from your eyes, you cannot help but smile at the dreams you had last night. You are filled with a spark of something you guess to be hope and when you reach for the phone on your bedside table and resign from work, it makes you feel so giddy that you laugh until your stomach hurts. You feel reckless and daring and without thinking, you reach under your pillow for the card you got last night. As you listen to the dialling tone you realise something; you have been asleep for ten years, today you have woken up.

Happy Birthday Remus

Fri, 10 Mar 2006 21:52:30 GMT

Title: Happy Birthday Remus Lupin.
Rating: pg 13 ish
Word Count: 676
Summery: Remus receives a birthday card. Angst
Notes: Very rough fic that I wanted finished in time for Lupin’s birthday. Most likely packed full of grammatical errors. Tut!
All belong to JK Rowling.

It was his 15th birthday when he got the first card. It was a plain design with a simple message. Happy Birthday Remus Lupin.
Curious, he used what spells he knew to find out who had sent it, but whoever it was wanted to remain anonymous.
On his 16th he received another, slightly fancier card. Inside was a hand drawn picture of himself smiling and looking healthy. Beautiful. This is how you look to me. Happy Birthday Remus Lupin.
Again he tried the identification spells, and again he found no answers. He didn’t show his friends because he knew that they wouldn’t rest until the sender was found, and he was satisfied (and a little bewildered) that someone thought that much of him. The only worry that he had was how he would let the girl down gently without hurting her feelings.
The 16th year of his life was not one of the best. First a persistent (and truthful) rumour of his preference for males spread throughout the school. Sirius was convinced that it was all the doing of the Slytherins, which led to many messy incidents. It was later discovered that the culprit was a perceptive, if rather cruel, Ravenclaw.
Secondly was the prank that Sirius played on Severus Snape. Remus was devastated and didn’t talk to Sirius for weeks. He tried to apologise to Snape, but all he got was furious glares and cold contempt. The only upside was that Remus finally realised his feelings for the Slytherin, even if they were unrequited.
He didn’t receive a card for his 17th, instead a school owl delivered a folded piece of parchment.
Happy Birthday Remus Lupin. I hate you.
Well, he thought, at least I don’t have to worry about letting her down gently anymore.
At 25 he received only one card. His parents and friends gone. Sirius as good as dead.
Happy Birthday Remus Lupin. I’m Sorry.
For some reason the words made him cry.
Each birthday that passed would bring with it a card, each a replica of the first, right down to the message written inside. Nothing more was ever written.
The card he received for his 37th was hand made and smelt of chocolate.
Happy Birthday Remus Lupin. How the memory of you haunts me.
He put it with the others and tried to forget about it, he had bigger things to worry about. Sirius Black was on the run and was certainly after Harry. Snape kept glaring at him, causing his heart to fall to his knees. After all these years, he thought, I still want him.
Three years later, and after not receiving a card from the mystery person in all that time, it came as an unexpected surprise when a large owl dropped a package at his feet. Unwrapping it, Remus was astounded to find dozens of drawings of himself, each one dated at yearly intervals.
Happy Birthday Remus Lupin. I’ve hated you, and loved you, always. Goodbye.
Not long after that, Severus Snape killed Dumbledore and broke Remus Lupin’s heart.
There was no time for thoughts of cards or birthday wishes on Remus’ 41st. The final battle was won and, as he stood exhausted in the ruins of the Riddle house, his eye was drawn to a cellar door. Down the stairs he went, lighting the way with his wand, and there he found Severus, broken and chained, taking shallow breaths. It didn’t look good for the Potions Master who’s life was so close to leaving him. With fumbling fingers, Remus worked at setting Severus free, all the while talking about the war being over and Voldemort gone and then he spoke words of love and longing. He stopped abruptly when a thin hand cupped his cheek and he found himself looking into the eyes of the other man. Even though he was gravely hurt, his eyes were at peace and he smiled at Remus before speaking in a voice barely a whisper.
“Happy Birthday Remus Lupin.”

First Fic!

Fri, 03 Mar 2006 23:33:17 GMT

Title: Should I Love You?
Rating: Pg 13
Summery: Snape and Lupin think things over.
All characters belong to JK Rowling.

They lay together, both lost and quiet. Both deep in thought.
He reaches out to caress the brown, silver flecked hair, certain that his companion is asleep, but the breaths are coming too fast and too regular for someone slumbering. He lets his hand drop.

Should I love you Remus when you can barely look at me? When I have just given myself to you, you turn your back.

I should hate you Severus. The things you have done. Dumbledore. James. Lily. Gone because of you.

I know that you hate me and I don’t expect you not to. I have killed both for good and for bad. For whatever reason though, I still have blood on my hands. You know what I am and that’s why you cannot look me in the eye.

I hate myself and how weak I am. I fear to look at you because I am terrified that you will be able to read the emotion that lies behind my eyes and all this, whatever we have, will end.

You loved Black and he loved you. It must be loneliness or pity that brings you into my arms. Once my pride would have refused me any part of this, however much I would have wanted it, but now I am worn down and, pride be dammed, I need you.

Harry blames you for Sirius’ death. I wonder what my friend, my brother, would have made of this? He would laugh I’m sure, though through mirth or derision I’m not certain. He would ask when your hate turned to love and how would I answer that? How could I explain that your feelings for me have never changed? That for you, this is purely physical.

The way I feel about you has never altered. Even through all the scowls and sneers that I threw your way, the time I betrayed you and sent you back to poverty, my feelings never, never changed. I just had no hope.

I used to dream about you and the things I would say to you if given the chance. Now I have that chance but I can’t, I wont speak. How brave you are Severus, and how pathetic you would think me that I cannot find the courage to utter the words that I have long held close. You risk your life and I cannot even risk my heart. You must have loved her greatly.

It was you, Remus, that brought me back from the dark. The thought that you would be caught up in the horror I had brought upon your friends. You are who I fight for. You are worth my life.

The pair wake at dawn tangled in each others limbs. The brown haired wizard lays still and allows himself these few moments to pretend the other man is aware and consciously holding him. He can’t do this for long before the empty feeling returns double fold so he quickly removes the arm from around his waist, gets dressed and walks away.

Could I hate you Severus? Never, never, never.

The dark haired wizard watches the other leave without looking back. How good it had been to hold him this past hour and pretend it was real. How heartbreaking it had been to realise it never could be so.

Should I love you Remus? Always, always, always.