HP fic: Falling in Love? [Remus/Severus, adult]
Title: Falling in Love? Author: celandineb Fandom: HP Pairing: Remus/Severus Rating: adult (barely) Length: 1000 words Warnings: sexual references, nakedness, some angst Summary: Neither Remus nor Severus is quite willing to recognise what is happening between them. Note: Written for the Love/Not Love prompt at lupin_snape.
Beneath Remus's hands, Severus's skin was warm and slick with sweat as they moved together.
Their affair -- if that was the right word -- had been going on for three months. Remus had taken a break from his job washing up at the Leaky Cauldron, and had stepped outside for a cigarette, when Severus came up to him to ask after Lily.
His tone had been almost truculent, and Remus had retorted, "Ask her yourself."
"I can't." Severus's shoulders were slumped, and had Remus not known better, he might have thought Severus was ashamed. Despite himself Remus felt sympathetic.
"Lily's fine," he said, and took another drag on his cigarette. He offered the packet to Severus, who hesitated but accepted one, touching Remus's hand as he offered a light.
That touch had been the beginning, really. Remus's shift would be over at eight, and he asked if Severus would like to have a drink afterward. One thing had led to another and they had ended up in Remus's flat, in the narrow bed that they occupied now.
Bit by bit the unexpected desire that they had discovered for each other had led to sharing more of themselves. Severus had already known Remus's greatest secret, but Remus had told Severus something of how he had been bitten, and what it was like to be a werewolf and experience all of the prejudices that went along with his condition.
Severus in turn had revealed a little about his childhood, how he had always known he had magical ability but had been raised in a Muggle world, the only exception being his mother... and, later, Lily.
Remus knew Severus omitted much. Severus would disappear from time to time -- for an evening, a day, several days -- refusing to say where he had been, or what he had been doing, or with whom. Remus strongly suspected that Severus was a follower of the wizard styling himself Lord Voldemort, but when they were together, that didn't seem to matter. He could not believe that the Severus he was coming to know would participate in the atrocities that were rumoured, not when his own father was a Muggle. Severus never tried to intrude on Remus's secrets, and in return Remus respected Severus's.
He tightened his arms around Severus now, kissing his closed eyelids, tasting the metallic salt of their mingled sweat.
Was this love that he felt, this almost despairing longing to keep Severus from the harm he dreaded might come, to shut out the rest of the world and leave only the two of them, entwined in this tiny close room?
Remus didn't know. He only knew that if he were to say that word aloud, Severus would flee as if a Dementor were chasing him.
So he said nothing, as always, instead doing his best to demonstrate his feelings physically, using hands and lips and tongue and cock to bring them close, closer, until at the moment of orgasm he could pretend that they were one.
Severus didn't like to think about what it might mean that he had been seeing -- all right, shagging -- Remus for the past several months. On the physical side of things he had no complaints; they had remarkably compatible tastes in bed. It was how their interactions were developing outside the bedroom that made Severus uncomfortable.
He had originally approached Remus out of desperation to know how Lily was doing. Despite the quarrel that had ended their friendship, he still cared for her, still worried about her, and that she seemed to be serious about James Potter did not exactly reduce Severus's concern. The only person he could think of who would have reliable news of Lily and might be willing to share it was Remus, and he was right.
Somehow, Severus was never quite clear on just how talking with Remus had led to sharing a drink, then a few drinks, then bed. Severus had not been inexperienced, but he was gratified, even flattered, by the passion for him that Remus demonstrated.
Since that night they had spent increasing amounts of time together, both in and out of bed. The difficulty was that there was a great deal that Severus was reluctant to share with Remus, for now at any rate. He hoped eventually to recruit Remus to support Lord Voldemort, but their conversation had convinced Severus that Remus was not ripe yet for such conversion. Severus thought he would come around eventually, however; a werewolf could be a useful ally, and Remus would undoubtedly have a better time of it with Voldemort in power than he did under present restrictive Ministry policies.
Severus glanced at the sleeping Remus, and swallowed. The bedclothes were flung back, revealing the network of painful-looking scars that crisscrossed Remus's torso and arms. Severus touched his own left arm. He had already been asked to take the Dark Mark by which Voldemort identified his strongest and most trusted followers, but so far he had put it off. He would not be able to resist much longer, though, and despite having given Lord Voldemort his allegiance, he dreaded the pain, and, yes, the potential for a separation from Remus that he knew the Marking would bring.
His heart pounded as he laid his face against Remus's bare shoulder. Remus went through worse pain every month. That Remus was a werewolf no longer disgusted Severus in the way it once had, but it still frightened him: rationally so. Remus had confided that on the nights he was a wolf, he had no control of himself whatsoever, and retained only the haziest memory and awareness of his own humanity.
At other times, though, Remus was entirely human, and entirely male. Severus's cock stirred at the memory. He admonished himself that Remus would not thank him if his sleep was disturbed, and regretfully closed his eyes, feeling the pounding of Remus's heart, the rhythm of his breathing, which beat sometimes in counterpoint, sometimes synchronized with Severus's own.