jolly_old_elf (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} jolly_old_elf) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} dearsanta,@ 2008-01-02 11:30:00 |
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Why Severus Snape Might Have to Shout 'Yoda' in the Midst of Battle" for bronze_ribbons
Title: Why Severus Snape Might Have to Shout 'Yoda' in the Midst of Battle
For:bronze_ribbons
Prompt: Snape and Lupin kicking ass and defying the odds.
Summary: What do you do when the one you love is fighting against you in a war? Well, you plan ahead, just in case.
Rated: PG-15
A/N: Many thinks to my mysterious beta. I hope you enjoy this Mechaieh!
Dead End, he realized, and the irony of that name was not lost on Remus in the moment.
He eyed the walls closing him in, panting for air. This near the full moon, his adrenaline was flowing at twice that of his new moon level, enhancing his ability to leap and climb. These walls were twenty feet high, however, and of flat concrete. He could identify neither foothold nor hiding place as his desperate eyes raked the walls. He glanced behind himself down the alley as the first masked figure raced around the corner towards him, shouting, and flinging curses.
Remus dodged and cast a Protego. One of the Death Eaters had hit him with an anti-disapparition charm while they were still on the street, and it had not worn off. He was trapped.
Remus spun and faced the on-coming men with his back to the wall and only a few straggly bins behind which to duck. There appeared to be four of them, hooded and masked and able to move shockingly fast in so much draping fabric. Four against one.
He had no idea how the men had spotted him. His assignment had been to eavesdrop on their meeting at the little cafe and report back to Order. It had been a simple job, with little danger involved, but somehow they had discovered he was there, and had taken him by surprise as they walked out onto the pavement.
“Circle behind him!” shouted one of the masks, in a high whiny tone. “Crucio!”
Remus slammed his body to the ground and avoided the curse, crawling behind the bins. Letting his eyes dart around the area, he identified an angle at which he could escape, if he could conjure a rope. His grip on his wand tightened as he started to murmur the incantation needed to conjure such a large item.
“Don’t kill him.” That was a deeper, stern voice, from a tall figure just rounding the corner. “I’m sure we can convince him to provide information on Dumbledore’s little resistance, with a bit of…persuasion.”
“He looks disposable to me,” said a cool, hard voice. The latest speaker had come around the bins and his wand was pointed right between Remus’s eyes. “There you are, little sneak. Stand up.” Remus rose slowly, eyes alert for a chance at escape. “This is just a junior nobody. Probably doesn’t even know why he was sent here. I say we do him and get this over with. He has heard too much.” The wand pointed at Remus’s face stilled with a chilling resolve.
Remus dared a look up at the corner of the building. If he could time conjuring a rope with a lashing movement of his wand, he could affix the rope to the distant corner of the building and swing out of this trap. He emptied his mind, preparing for the burst of magic, his entire body tensed and alert.
That deep, stern voice spoke again. “Even the lowliest goons know something useful. The Dark Lord will not want to miss the opportunity to question him. You wouldn’t want to go down like Grand Moff Tarkin, would you, killed by your own arrogance?”
Remus froze, recognizing this nonsensical reference, which was not nonsense to him at all, merely horrifying (and a bit funny), and hoped his sudden panic was not registered by the other men in the alley. His eyes rose to the man who had spoken. He was standing a step behind all of the others. In perfect defensive position, of course, Remus thought.
The confused eyes of the other Death Eaters all turned on the tall man for a moment. “What does that mean? Who or what is Grand Moff Tarkin?” asked the smooth, cold voice of the man holding Remus at wand-point.
In the pause, Remus regained his composure enough to look closely at the tall Death Eater’s gloved hands. The index finger on his right hand was pointed out. One, thought Remus. His left hand was splayed out, showing all five long, thin fingers. Five. One-Five. Fifteen. Remus instantly started to count backwards in his head. Fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven…
“Isn’t that from a Muggle film?” asked the little one with the squeaky voice.
Nine, eight, seven… Remus eyes never left the tall man and the hand holding his wand was locked as if made of iron. He tried to breathe, keeping his counting at a measured pace. He needed patience. His odds had just improved, if he could stay calm.
“You’ve been keeping tabs on Muggle cinema, have you?” asked the smooth voiced man, taunting.
Five, four…
“Can we just kill this idiot spy and get back? We’ll be missed.” That was new voice Remus had not heard before.
Two… Remus closed his eyes and lifted his wand to shield his face.
One.
It all happened so quickly, Remus could not have said afterwards what happened first. He shouted, “Protego” just as a bright blast ricocheted through the alleyway, the light blinding him for a moment, even with his eyes closed. The thick odor of magic, herbal and sharp, filled his nose.
Remus kept his body stiff, anticipating an attack that did not come. Seconds ticked by in terrible silence. Finally, he dared crack open his eyes, and at the same moment he felt himself shoved back against the wall, his arms pinned and his wand dropped. A heavy body was pressing into him, into every inch of his body, collapsing his lungs. Hot breath warmed his neck and shoulder. He opened his eyes.
The bodies of three of the Death Eaters were strewn about the alley. He could see them just above the black shoulder that was crushing into him and threatening to cut off his air.
“You liar…you promised you would be careful…you liar.” Remus realized the breath on his neck was resolving into these words, repeated over and over.
“I…can’t…” Remus huffed, trying to inhale, “…breathe.”
The body pinning him to the wall moved back a fraction at this statement, but then Remus found his mouth covered by the hot, seeking lips of the man in front of him, stealing his opportunity to regain his breath. His kisses were wet and needy. Remus was desperate to return them, but couldn’t get any air.
“Severus…stop…get…off…” Remus sputtered into the kiss and shoved at the figure suffocating him. The man in front of him pulled away a few inches, and allowed Remus to inhale deeply, filling his lungs for this first time since he had been spotted outside the cafe.
“Insufferable Gryffindor,” sniped Severus, “You would be dead if I wasn’t here.” He was being scolded. Remus had no patience for that, not when adrenaline was still racing through his oxygen-starved blood.
“But you are here, you arse. You are here, aren’t you? I was about to make a spectacular escape. You and your bloody subterfuge and heroics.” Remus knew he had no reason to be angry. Severus had saved his life. But his tensed and shaking body would not relax without letting some of the anger and pain out, and there was no one else to shout at.
“My apologies. Next time I will sit back and allow you to save yourself,” said Severus in his most cutting tone.
“Are they dead?” asked Remus, looking at the men on the ground.
“No, stunned. Quite effectively stunned,” replied Severus, looking over his shoulder. His head then snapped back towards Remus. “That had to have been simply the most immature code word ever invented. Grand Moff Tarkin, indeed. Why did I ever agree to it? You and your pitiful taste in entertainment. I despise that bloody film.” Severus had leaned his head in and pressed it against Remus’s forehead. Remus could feel some of the tension easing out of the body in front of him. He took a few deep breaths, wishing each intake of air could cleanse him of the panic of his near death.
“Well, it worked. I knew it was you,” Remus replied. “Your countdown idea worked as well. We were able to time it perfectly. All of that practice was worth it. You know I thought you were daft at the time.” He closed his eyes, chest heaving in swells like a stormy ocean. He could not enjoy breathing enough. He also could not help adding, “And Severus, you saw that film eight times.”
Severus snorted and rolled to the side collapsing his weight up against the wall next to Remus, shoulder to shoulder. Sometime during the chaos of his attack, he had pulled his mask back, and Remus took a moment to inhale the sharp and angry angles of Severus’s face, which he had not seen for a fortnight.
“I appreciated the visuals,” Severus said in a sullen tone.
“I’ve missed you,” Remus said without thinking, and was rewarded with a searing glare.
“Not enough to keep your sorry self at home and safe with your little resistance club, as we agreed.”
“This was not a dangerous assignment. I don’t know how I was seen,” Remus said, as he pulled one hand up to brush the tangle of black hair out of Severus’s eyes.
Severus sighed and leaned more weight into Remus’s shoulder. “Because you are a miserable spy, and I spotted you instantly. I did not realize it was you until I had alerted the others and it was too late.”
“Oh,” Remus said, leaning his weight towards Severus so that they were holding each other up. “Fabulous. Now you are creating situations from which to save me. That is hardly fair.” Remus looked over at Severus with a raised brow.
“This is not a humorous situation, Lupin. You were almost killed. I almost caused your death.” Severus was pale and the hollow of his cheek was deeply shadowed.
“Almost and almost. We planned ahead. We knew this might happen, and now it has, and we survived it, Severus.” Remus dragged his hand down Severus’s cheek. “I think that is remarkable. And possibly romantic.”
Severus’s sneering lips were reduced to a pencil line in width. “Shut it, Lupin.”
Remus leaned over and kissed Severus’s cheek, rough with stubble. “Next month, when it is your turn to attempt to ‘stay at home, safe with your little resistance club’, perhaps I will be arrange to rescue you from a gang of terrifying Gryffindors. What do you say?”
Instead of answering, Severus rolled back over onto Remus, pressing him once again into the concrete of the alley wall. “May I presume, by this lax, inappropriate humor, that you have regained the ability to breathe properly?” he asked.
Remus took an experimental deep breath. “It seems so,” he replied, and immediately found his lips smothered by Severus’s hot, demanding mouth, and Remus let his hands curl up in Severus’s hair, hanging lank and uncared for around his hard face. He pulled Severus close, and inhaled him, tangy boyish sweat, stale fags, and damp wool. He could feel the pressing bulge of Severus’s erection pressed against his own, and he pulled out of the depths of their kiss like a diver surfacing.
“How much time do we have?” he asked, running his hands down Severus’s chest and wrapping around to cradle his arse.
As if in answer, a low groan was uttered by one of the prone men in the alley, who stirred. Severus turned his head and muttered a short spell that lowered him back to the ground.
“None,” he murmured into Remus’s cheek. “They will wake up at any moment, and you need to be gone, and I need to appear to have been stunned as well.”
“I need…” murmured Remus, brushing hot lips over Severus’s flushed neck.
“As do I,” said Severus, “but not now.” His voice was curt.
There was the subtle sound of movement in the alley and Remus peered over Severus’s shoulder at the men on the ground, two of whom were starting to twitch.
“When can you meet me?” Remus asked, suddenly afraid for the first time since Severus had stunned his fellow Death Eaters. His body did not want to go, but his mind had started to scream at him to run.
“Tomorrow, perhaps, if you can,” Severus replied.
“You know, there is a sequel. To that film you hate so much you saw it eight times. It’s just opened,” Remus said, fast and low. “We could meet at the theatre in Leicester Square. Six o’clock?”
“A sequel?”
“Yes. We do need a new code word, so perhaps there will be something in this film that we can use…I believe it is called ‘Empire Something,’” said Remus. “Will you meet me?”
“Will this theatre be darkened?” Severus asked.
“Yes.”
Severus’s black eyes shimmered and he aggressively brushed his aroused body against Remus one last time. “That will be acceptable.”
“We really do kick arse as a team, Severus,” Remus whispered. He wished, not for the first time, that they were somehow kicking arse for the same bloody side.
“I hope that kicking arse is not what you had in mind for tomorrow, Lupin,” said Severus.
Remus smiled and bit back a groan. “I have to get out of here.”
“Yes.”
Their kiss was quick and hard and deep, and not remotely enough. Thank yous were unnecessary between them, and had been for a long time, but Remus let his hand linger on Severus’s cheek for a moment longer than was necessary before he turned and ran out of the alley, not daring to look back.
bronze_ribbonsTitle: Why Severus Snape Might Have to Shout 'Yoda' in the Midst of Battle
For:
bronze_ribbonsPrompt: Snape and Lupin kicking ass and defying the odds.
Summary: What do you do when the one you love is fighting against you in a war? Well, you plan ahead, just in case.
Rated: PG-15
A/N: Many thinks to my mysterious beta. I hope you enjoy this Mechaieh!
Dead End, he realized, and the irony of that name was not lost on Remus in the moment.
He eyed the walls closing him in, panting for air. This near the full moon, his adrenaline was flowing at twice that of his new moon level, enhancing his ability to leap and climb. These walls were twenty feet high, however, and of flat concrete. He could identify neither foothold nor hiding place as his desperate eyes raked the walls. He glanced behind himself down the alley as the first masked figure raced around the corner towards him, shouting, and flinging curses.
Remus dodged and cast a Protego. One of the Death Eaters had hit him with an anti-disapparition charm while they were still on the street, and it had not worn off. He was trapped.
Remus spun and faced the on-coming men with his back to the wall and only a few straggly bins behind which to duck. There appeared to be four of them, hooded and masked and able to move shockingly fast in so much draping fabric. Four against one.
He had no idea how the men had spotted him. His assignment had been to eavesdrop on their meeting at the little cafe and report back to Order. It had been a simple job, with little danger involved, but somehow they had discovered he was there, and had taken him by surprise as they walked out onto the pavement.
“Circle behind him!” shouted one of the masks, in a high whiny tone. “Crucio!”
Remus slammed his body to the ground and avoided the curse, crawling behind the bins. Letting his eyes dart around the area, he identified an angle at which he could escape, if he could conjure a rope. His grip on his wand tightened as he started to murmur the incantation needed to conjure such a large item.
“Don’t kill him.” That was a deeper, stern voice, from a tall figure just rounding the corner. “I’m sure we can convince him to provide information on Dumbledore’s little resistance, with a bit of…persuasion.”
“He looks disposable to me,” said a cool, hard voice. The latest speaker had come around the bins and his wand was pointed right between Remus’s eyes. “There you are, little sneak. Stand up.” Remus rose slowly, eyes alert for a chance at escape. “This is just a junior nobody. Probably doesn’t even know why he was sent here. I say we do him and get this over with. He has heard too much.” The wand pointed at Remus’s face stilled with a chilling resolve.
Remus dared a look up at the corner of the building. If he could time conjuring a rope with a lashing movement of his wand, he could affix the rope to the distant corner of the building and swing out of this trap. He emptied his mind, preparing for the burst of magic, his entire body tensed and alert.
That deep, stern voice spoke again. “Even the lowliest goons know something useful. The Dark Lord will not want to miss the opportunity to question him. You wouldn’t want to go down like Grand Moff Tarkin, would you, killed by your own arrogance?”
Remus froze, recognizing this nonsensical reference, which was not nonsense to him at all, merely horrifying (and a bit funny), and hoped his sudden panic was not registered by the other men in the alley. His eyes rose to the man who had spoken. He was standing a step behind all of the others. In perfect defensive position, of course, Remus thought.
The confused eyes of the other Death Eaters all turned on the tall man for a moment. “What does that mean? Who or what is Grand Moff Tarkin?” asked the smooth, cold voice of the man holding Remus at wand-point.
In the pause, Remus regained his composure enough to look closely at the tall Death Eater’s gloved hands. The index finger on his right hand was pointed out. One, thought Remus. His left hand was splayed out, showing all five long, thin fingers. Five. One-Five. Fifteen. Remus instantly started to count backwards in his head. Fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven…
“Isn’t that from a Muggle film?” asked the little one with the squeaky voice.
Nine, eight, seven… Remus eyes never left the tall man and the hand holding his wand was locked as if made of iron. He tried to breathe, keeping his counting at a measured pace. He needed patience. His odds had just improved, if he could stay calm.
“You’ve been keeping tabs on Muggle cinema, have you?” asked the smooth voiced man, taunting.
Five, four…
“Can we just kill this idiot spy and get back? We’ll be missed.” That was new voice Remus had not heard before.
Two… Remus closed his eyes and lifted his wand to shield his face.
One.
It all happened so quickly, Remus could not have said afterwards what happened first. He shouted, “Protego” just as a bright blast ricocheted through the alleyway, the light blinding him for a moment, even with his eyes closed. The thick odor of magic, herbal and sharp, filled his nose.
Remus kept his body stiff, anticipating an attack that did not come. Seconds ticked by in terrible silence. Finally, he dared crack open his eyes, and at the same moment he felt himself shoved back against the wall, his arms pinned and his wand dropped. A heavy body was pressing into him, into every inch of his body, collapsing his lungs. Hot breath warmed his neck and shoulder. He opened his eyes.
The bodies of three of the Death Eaters were strewn about the alley. He could see them just above the black shoulder that was crushing into him and threatening to cut off his air.
“You liar…you promised you would be careful…you liar.” Remus realized the breath on his neck was resolving into these words, repeated over and over.
“I…can’t…” Remus huffed, trying to inhale, “…breathe.”
The body pinning him to the wall moved back a fraction at this statement, but then Remus found his mouth covered by the hot, seeking lips of the man in front of him, stealing his opportunity to regain his breath. His kisses were wet and needy. Remus was desperate to return them, but couldn’t get any air.
“Severus…stop…get…off…” Remus sputtered into the kiss and shoved at the figure suffocating him. The man in front of him pulled away a few inches, and allowed Remus to inhale deeply, filling his lungs for this first time since he had been spotted outside the cafe.
“Insufferable Gryffindor,” sniped Severus, “You would be dead if I wasn’t here.” He was being scolded. Remus had no patience for that, not when adrenaline was still racing through his oxygen-starved blood.
“But you are here, you arse. You are here, aren’t you? I was about to make a spectacular escape. You and your bloody subterfuge and heroics.” Remus knew he had no reason to be angry. Severus had saved his life. But his tensed and shaking body would not relax without letting some of the anger and pain out, and there was no one else to shout at.
“My apologies. Next time I will sit back and allow you to save yourself,” said Severus in his most cutting tone.
“Are they dead?” asked Remus, looking at the men on the ground.
“No, stunned. Quite effectively stunned,” replied Severus, looking over his shoulder. His head then snapped back towards Remus. “That had to have been simply the most immature code word ever invented. Grand Moff Tarkin, indeed. Why did I ever agree to it? You and your pitiful taste in entertainment. I despise that bloody film.” Severus had leaned his head in and pressed it against Remus’s forehead. Remus could feel some of the tension easing out of the body in front of him. He took a few deep breaths, wishing each intake of air could cleanse him of the panic of his near death.
“Well, it worked. I knew it was you,” Remus replied. “Your countdown idea worked as well. We were able to time it perfectly. All of that practice was worth it. You know I thought you were daft at the time.” He closed his eyes, chest heaving in swells like a stormy ocean. He could not enjoy breathing enough. He also could not help adding, “And Severus, you saw that film eight times.”
Severus snorted and rolled to the side collapsing his weight up against the wall next to Remus, shoulder to shoulder. Sometime during the chaos of his attack, he had pulled his mask back, and Remus took a moment to inhale the sharp and angry angles of Severus’s face, which he had not seen for a fortnight.
“I appreciated the visuals,” Severus said in a sullen tone.
“I’ve missed you,” Remus said without thinking, and was rewarded with a searing glare.
“Not enough to keep your sorry self at home and safe with your little resistance club, as we agreed.”
“This was not a dangerous assignment. I don’t know how I was seen,” Remus said, as he pulled one hand up to brush the tangle of black hair out of Severus’s eyes.
Severus sighed and leaned more weight into Remus’s shoulder. “Because you are a miserable spy, and I spotted you instantly. I did not realize it was you until I had alerted the others and it was too late.”
“Oh,” Remus said, leaning his weight towards Severus so that they were holding each other up. “Fabulous. Now you are creating situations from which to save me. That is hardly fair.” Remus looked over at Severus with a raised brow.
“This is not a humorous situation, Lupin. You were almost killed. I almost caused your death.” Severus was pale and the hollow of his cheek was deeply shadowed.
“Almost and almost. We planned ahead. We knew this might happen, and now it has, and we survived it, Severus.” Remus dragged his hand down Severus’s cheek. “I think that is remarkable. And possibly romantic.”
Severus’s sneering lips were reduced to a pencil line in width. “Shut it, Lupin.”
Remus leaned over and kissed Severus’s cheek, rough with stubble. “Next month, when it is your turn to attempt to ‘stay at home, safe with your little resistance club’, perhaps I will be arrange to rescue you from a gang of terrifying Gryffindors. What do you say?”
Instead of answering, Severus rolled back over onto Remus, pressing him once again into the concrete of the alley wall. “May I presume, by this lax, inappropriate humor, that you have regained the ability to breathe properly?” he asked.
Remus took an experimental deep breath. “It seems so,” he replied, and immediately found his lips smothered by Severus’s hot, demanding mouth, and Remus let his hands curl up in Severus’s hair, hanging lank and uncared for around his hard face. He pulled Severus close, and inhaled him, tangy boyish sweat, stale fags, and damp wool. He could feel the pressing bulge of Severus’s erection pressed against his own, and he pulled out of the depths of their kiss like a diver surfacing.
“How much time do we have?” he asked, running his hands down Severus’s chest and wrapping around to cradle his arse.
As if in answer, a low groan was uttered by one of the prone men in the alley, who stirred. Severus turned his head and muttered a short spell that lowered him back to the ground.
“None,” he murmured into Remus’s cheek. “They will wake up at any moment, and you need to be gone, and I need to appear to have been stunned as well.”
“I need…” murmured Remus, brushing hot lips over Severus’s flushed neck.
“As do I,” said Severus, “but not now.” His voice was curt.
There was the subtle sound of movement in the alley and Remus peered over Severus’s shoulder at the men on the ground, two of whom were starting to twitch.
“When can you meet me?” Remus asked, suddenly afraid for the first time since Severus had stunned his fellow Death Eaters. His body did not want to go, but his mind had started to scream at him to run.
“Tomorrow, perhaps, if you can,” Severus replied.
“You know, there is a sequel. To that film you hate so much you saw it eight times. It’s just opened,” Remus said, fast and low. “We could meet at the theatre in Leicester Square. Six o’clock?”
“A sequel?”
“Yes. We do need a new code word, so perhaps there will be something in this film that we can use…I believe it is called ‘Empire Something,’” said Remus. “Will you meet me?”
“Will this theatre be darkened?” Severus asked.
“Yes.”
Severus’s black eyes shimmered and he aggressively brushed his aroused body against Remus one last time. “That will be acceptable.”
“We really do kick arse as a team, Severus,” Remus whispered. He wished, not for the first time, that they were somehow kicking arse for the same bloody side.
“I hope that kicking arse is not what you had in mind for tomorrow, Lupin,” said Severus.
Remus smiled and bit back a groan. “I have to get out of here.”
“Yes.”
Their kiss was quick and hard and deep, and not remotely enough. Thank yous were unnecessary between them, and had been for a long time, but Remus let his hand linger on Severus’s cheek for a moment longer than was necessary before he turned and ran out of the alley, not daring to look back.