With its high walls and cool silent interior, the room might almost have been taken for a broken-down and forgotten place of peace, Filius supposed, but for the horror of the floor.
The first paragraph had me hooked, but, man, that sentence set the tone for the rest of the fic. I read on with an anticipatory ache in my chest, and I had to stop once or twice when the words got blurry.
He picked up one foot and then the other to cross and look down, then hastily retreated back to the doorway, from where it looked only like a misshapen dark bundle with shoes and abstract white shapes that didn't resolve into hands and a nose until one looked a great deal more closely… The abstract shapes of death and hands were still all there
These descriptions are so reserved, and yet that very quietness and control make the ache worse. Also, I love the way you use the presence of the gold-pink dust to chart the passage of time and the privacy of Filius' communion with Severus' corpse.
It's worth noting that, because the fic takes their relationship in stride, without stopping to justify how two such strange bedfellows should come to pass, the reader does, too. And of course the ease and evident pleasure they take in each other's company, and the slightly acerbic teasing that's a natural part of their discourse, seduced me immediately. For one thing, it's a relief to know that Severus had somebody to actually talk to.
"Slytherins know better than to become despondent over knifework." Heh. Perfectly tailored line, there.
He feared that in his state, Evanesco performed directly on the corpse would clear away everything, up to and including the body. That's a succinct and cleverly magic-oriented way of conveying Filius' distress.
unwilling to dishonor this body any further than the many offenses already committed against it. Scenes like this always slay me. Ow, my heart.
He couldn't work out whether the notion of being posthumously soothed by Severus was comforting or not. This is just one of many examples - pretty nearly the entire fic, I must say - of beautifully crafted lines that don't shout their brilliance but are little gems of voice and wording.
"Oh, perfect. It isn't enough I've spent the day coping with the effects of those blasted twins' experimental pharmacopeia; now my own lover is dosing me." Have I said yet that I love your Severus? No, I don't think I have. His dark humor, his biting remarks, the fact that he cares enough to spend time creating an elaborate puzzle as a tribute to Filius and as a form of autobiography, his unstinting gratitude for physical affection: yes, he's lovely. Also your Filius: a charmer (in both senses of the word), as adept at the verbal as the magical kind of duel, and with a soul larger than his body.
As a reader, I rejoice in their version of pillow talk; the whole "tea theory" conversation, ending with, "But just think what it would do to the student population, if I were to be unusually grumpy tomorrow," is so teasing and affectionate, tinged with erotic innuendo. Also, there's something wistful about the calm acknowledgement, on more than one occasion, that both men are touch-starved and inordinately fond of simple physical contact.
It felt cool under his fingers, cool like Severus when he was hurt. Smooth like the fine soft skin above his hipbones. Soft like his chin deep in sleep. This is intimately beautiful - beautiful enough to hurt. "Soft like his chin" is especially affecting, because who else thinks of Snape that way?
The conversation between Filius and Severus' ghost over the mystery of the riddle box is masterful, picking a delicate path amongst all the emotions, the admissions, Severus' very moving desire that the truth of his life be eventually known, and his hope that Filius forgive him. And then for the ghost to vanish so suddenly, making Filius decide that he isn't ready yet to face the world, after all - that was a well-timed, excellent sleight-of-hand that balanced explanation with a sharp emotional wrench.