nehalenia (nehalenia) wrote in lupin_snape, @ 2008-09-02 04:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic: nc17, prompt: fantasy fest 08 |
Fantasy Fest Fic: Dark Creatures -- Chapter 3
Title: Dark Creatures -- Chapter 3
Author:nehalenia
Rating:NC17 overall/PG-13 for this part
Pairing: Lupin/Snape, Sirius/Snape, Lupin/Snape/Sirius
Word Count: 1793 (this chapter)
Challenge: Fantasy Fest 2008
Prompt: Snape has been cursed by Death Eaters and to avoid horrible pain, must be taken by a Dark Creature every day.
Warnings: AU (There will be more later. ^___^)
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of JK Rowling and are most definitely not mine. This is for entertainment purposes only and no profit is being sought.
Author's notes: Blessings on ships_harry for her awesome beta skillz and blpaintchart for her equally awesome Brit-picking! To my 'unknown' promptee, I will keep posting chapters until this is done. Shouldn't be too terribly long. Let this stand as a promise that, yes, your prompt will actually (finally) get written. ;-) And WOOO Chaptered Fics! Why didn't I think of this before?
Chapter 1, Chapter 2
Remus Lupin slammed his hands down flat on the parchment strewn table with a growl of deep frustration.
“Sirius, if you don’t stop doing that, you are going to drive me mad!”
“Doing what?” Sirius asked, a moment after he transformed from Padfoot.
“That!” Remus said, exasperated, shaking his hair out of his face. “The changing! One moment you’re standing on two legs offering me tea, and when I turn and ask where the sugar is, you’re a dog! Then three minutes later you come up behind me and ask what I’m reading, and I nearly jump out of my skin.”
“Really?” Sirius asked, peering at his old friend. Remus’ hair was so much greyer than he remembered it being, his face more drawn, and the old scars across his nose and cheek more noticeable. Time had not stood still in the months – no, the years – he had been gone; only he had. Everyone else had moved on, while he’d spun about in place behind the Veil. Even the most familiar things, like Remus’ face, had changed.
“Yes, really,” Remus insisted, falling into a chair and propping his elbows on the table, displacing some of the parchments. The largest one was unrolled on top of the others, its moving sepia lines showing the devastation of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Sirius didn’t quite see the purpose in that since he and Remus were currently in that classroom surrounded by said devastation. Tables had been overturned, skeletons and specimens thrown about in confusion, and desks blasted to pieces. The stone walls were scorched from floor to ceiling, some truly grisly portraits showing the effects of Dark curses had not been damaged nearly enough, and all but two of the tall, leaded glass windows had been smashed. Remus had been trying all day to get it sorted, and Sirius had been trying – albeit not with much success – to help him.
“Sorry, Remus,” Sirius frowned, shifting his shoulders and scratching at his upper arm. “Didn’t know it was bothering you. Truth is,” he admitted reluctantly, “I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”
Remus gazed at him, looking as if he would have been happier not knowing that last part, then sighed and began to massage his temples.
“I’m sorry, Sirius,” Remus said wearily. “I know this must be difficult for you, but... as grateful as I am to have you back, it’s—it’s difficult for me, too.” He pushed a hand through his forelock and leaned back in the hard, wooden chair. “It’s just—I’m not used to having you around again. It still doesn’t seem quite real.”
“Well, you’re not alone there,” Sirius said quietly. “Doesn’t seem quite real to me, either.”
He stepped away from Remus to stare out one of the broken windows. It was high summer and actually looked it for a change, the previous day’s forbidding clouds having given way to a clear sky.
“I’m just restless,” he offered, squinting into the sunlight. “Not quite comfortable in my own skin yet, right? Either one of them, I suppose,” he added.
“Yes, I imagine it feels quite strange,” Remus agreed, his eyes following Sirius’ gaze out the window. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “it really is a beautiful day out there, and who knows how many more of them we’re going to get? If you’re feeling unsettled, why don’t you go out and enjoy it? I expect it would do you good.”
“You sure you don’t need my help?” Sirius asked, glancing back at Remus.
“Not much you can do about the larger stuff without a wand,” Remus said, gesturing around. “I’ll clear out the better part of this mess. Once that’s done, you can help set the room to rights, yes? Much easier that way, I think.”
“You’re sure?” Sirius asked.
“Positive,” Remus insisted, waving him away. “Go out and get some sun. Somebody ought to.”
“Mad dogs and Englishmen, eh?” Sirius grinned.
“Absolutely,” Remus smiled, his eyes crinkling. He still looked tired to Sirius, but less worried now.
“Right,” Sirius nodded. “I’ll get out of your hair for a bit, then.” He briefly considered going straight out the window, but reckoned he’d done enough to Remus’ nerves for the day, so he headed for the door. He made it all the way out of the classroom on two legs, but before the heavy door had even swung closed behind him, he was trotting down the hallway on four.
The only problem was, he didn’t really know where he was going.
Outside, was where Remus had suggested, and where Sirius no doubt should have gone. Outside was sunshine and fresh air, but somehow he knew that being outside the castle wouldn’t feel any different to him than being inside, just like being in the classroom felt no different than being in Remus’ office, or Remus’ quarters, or even in the sprawling Great Hall, or on the Astronomy Tower. Just like being in Padfoot’s skin felt no different than being in his own.
It all felt wrong.
He had the strange sensation that he didn’t quite fit inside the world anymore – that this time around, it simply hadn’t made room for him – or that perhaps everything inside him didn’t quite fit. Sirius had no other explanation for his growing sense of disquiet, for his agitation, for whatever it was that tugged and twisted at his centre and wouldn’t give him any rest.
It didn’t matter where he went, or how many times he transformed, he couldn’t seem to escape it. It had only been a small twinge at first, and easily ignored when there were so many other distractions – disbelief, reunions, the questions he couldn’t answer, the ones Harry wouldn’t. Sirius had thought it would go away once his body sorted itself out. Instead, the feeling grew stronger. It spread from his gut to the bottom of his heart, to the back of his throat, and all the way down to his bollocks, leaving him fitful and edgy, unable to truly relax. It wasn’t pain – nothing so concrete as that – but it was relentless, and it kept getting stronger, and harder to ignore.
His deepest worry – the one Sirius couldn’t even admit to Remus; the one he didn’t want to admit to himself – was that this uneasiness had a purpose; that it wasn’t merely tugging at him, but tugging him somewhere.
Worse, Sirius suspected he knew where this strange force was trying to draw him. He fought against the idea, refused to think about it, but in the shadowy moments before he fell asleep at night, a small voice whispered what he didn’t want to hear.
The Veil, it murmured. It wants you back.
The very thought of it made Sirius whine, and he stopped in the middle of the corridor, panting in distress. Thinking about it had done him no good, for the feeling was stronger than ever. He could feel it tightening like a collar, but inside him instead of around his throat. He wanted to call out for Remus, for anyone, but the vaulted corridors were empty and echoing, and the only movement was the torchlight dancing on the walls.
Torches. Lost in thought, his feet had led him deep into the Hogwarts dungeons. He lifted his nose and pricked his ears, but nothing moved in these dank stone halls: no students because it was summer, no workmen because this area had been relatively undamaged in the final battle. The subterranean air was damp and chill, and there were no sounds but for the flicker of torchlight and his own panting. Even the Slytherin ghost seemed to have abandoned the place.
Sirius resolved to abandon it as well, but when he tried to turn and go, he nearly yelped at the sudden constriction on his heart. Whatever had been twisting inside him since he’d stumbled out of the Veil now clamped down on his insides like the iron jaws of a trap and wouldn’t let him move. He experienced a moment of panic that nearly sent him into his dog-mind – that place of pure instinct and response – but Sirius pushed it down and stood there, hackles raised, heart pounding.
This was where the feeling had been pulling him – not to the Veil, but here. His relief at that was swiftly replaced by an growing urge to find what was drawing him and why. There was no question of turning back now, and he moved without thinking, springing forward and bounding down the wide corridor. He let his instincts lead, racing past stone walls until they were broken by wooden doors, then slowing because here, here somewhere was the thing he had to find, had to...
The pain stopped him dead in his tracks beside one iron-bound door. Not his own pain, but someone else’s; pain so fierce it had a scent, so powerful it echoed inside him, throbbing like a second heart, drawing him, tugging him, this—yes—here! He leapt up, placing both front paws on the door and scratching wildly until he remembered he needed his hands and transformed, gripping the handle and hauling back on it.
Sirius could smell the desperation as he stumbled inside, and even before he recognized the unchanged Potions classroom, he knew what he was going to find. He charged past the rows of desks, grabbing the lectern at the front of the room as he lurched to a halt and hung there, staring down at the anchor on the end of his unforgiving chain.
Severus Snape. Sprawled on the floor and panting like a wounded dog, shivering in every limb; a tangle of black robes and stringy hair trying to push himself up on his hands and failing. His face was a white mask of agony, and his black eyes burned through lank strands of hair. Sirius stood there stunned, unable to move, unable to speak, watching mutely as Snape struggled to lift his head, to meet his gaze.
“Black.” Snape said his name through gritted teeth. His eyes were just as dark and limitless as they had been before, but now they were losing focus, and Sirius could see something unravelling behind them. Snape’s face contorted as he tried to speak again. “Get—Lupin,” he choked out, just before his back arched in a convulsion and he buried his face in his sleeve.
Get Lupin.
As if those words had freed him from a spell, Sirius staggered back, gasping, then spun away, transforming in mid-stride and tearing through the room and out the door. An anguished cry echoed behind him as he raced down the corridors, heart hammering, his brain repeating over and over what he’d heard in his mind when he met Snape’s eyes:
Make it stop. .
Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.
Chapter 4