|undunoops (undunoops) wrote in lupin_snape,|
@ 2008-04-29 21:01:00
|Entry tags:||family fest|
Family Fest Fic: Love and a Hard Place - R, Parts 11 and 12
Title: Love and a Hard Place
Rating: R (mature/adult content)
Pairing(s)/character(s): Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, Nymphadora Tonks, Hermione Granger, et al.
Challenge: lupin_snape's Family Fest
Summary: Remus would do anything to be a father.
Disclaimer: Not-for-profit fan creation.
Warnings: I hate warnings. I don’t think anyone dies…
Notes: This story was started before the release of Deathly Hallows and is therefore non-compliant with that storyline. I leave it to the reader whether they judge it to be AU. Beta was gifted to me by the extraordinary Dillis. Thanks to lore for running the fest!
Remus lowered himself carefully onto the bed, groaning at the pain that shot through his back as he straightened his spine. “I think I’m too old for this,” he whined.
Snape snorted without looking up from his book.
“You’re supposed to make sympathetic noises,” Remus whined again.
Snape looked up from his book and curled his lip.
“That’s not sympathetic and it wasn’t even a noise, Severus,” he complained. “And you haven’t offered me a back rub or anything!”
“Merlin’s man boobs, you do go on,” muttered Snape, dropping his book on the bedside table. “Turn over then,” he commanded.
Remus did so, groaning piteously.
“Without the clothes, you idiot.”
Remus struggled out of his clothing, the socks eliciting much grunting and soft swearing as he bent his aching back to reach them. He flopped back on the bed with a huff of exhaustion.
He felt Snape’s hands stroking over his back, not pressing yet, but he hummed happily in anticipation.
“You need to name our daughter,” Snape commented as he attacked the knotted muscles in Remus’ shoulders.
“Ah, fuck! Yes, I know. I have a short list. You?” he asked.
“Augustine, Boadicea, Cleopatra.” Snape drove his fingers into the corded muscles along Remus’ spine.
“Ah – fuckfuckfuck!” Remus squirmed like a fish on a hook. “And that’s… just… the first three letters.”
“I have more,” Snape offered.
“I’m sure you do,” Remus panted. Snape’s hands had dropped to his buttocks, pressing in on the bunched muscles. “Are they all so… weighty?”
“Weighty, hmm?” Snape ran his fingers lightly over Remus’ bottom then along the inside of his thighs. “What would you choose then?”
Remus twitched and moaned as Snape’s fingers traced along the cleft. Bloody tease!
“I thought maybe Annie, or Bobby, or what about Cassie?”
Snape’s hands dug back into his shoulders. It didn’t make him swear this time; he must be loosening up at last.
“I’m fairly certain that Bobby is a boy’s name,” Snape stated in apparent bewilderment.
“Short for Roberta,” he wheezed out. Snape was leaning over him and pressing on the middle of his back; it felt wonderful but he couldn’t breathe.
Snape sounded as impressed with Remus’ list as Remus was with Snape’s list.
“Maybe we could find something that complements Darius,” he suggested after Snape lifted his weight off Remus’ back.
“Starting with D, do you mean?” Snape had moved his attention to Remus’ legs.
“Yes, or something with a similar… oh, bloody…”
“That, there… aah!”
“It sounds like you’re in the middle of orgasm, Lupin. Positively obscene,” Snape hissed in his ear. He moved to straddle Remus’ hips.
Remus couldn’t move. He was too relaxed; the endorphins released during Snape’s brutal massage had robbed him of all muscle tension. He could breathe, and he was sure he could open his eyes with enough forward planning. But nothing else.
There was only one thing better than this feeling.
He heard Snape cast a silencing charm on the door.
"Donata," Remus said breathlessly. He picked up his wand from the floor and took down Snape's silencing charm. He would have to get up and check on the children: he wouldn't sleep until he did so.
"Donata," Snape repeated slowly. "A gift."
"Yes." She was their beautiful gift. He made a move towards sitting up.
“Stay. I’ll go and check on them,” Snape said as he stood up.
“Severus, I could kiss you,” he sighed.
“You’ve just done a damn sight more than that, you silly creature.”
“Mmm.” Remus waggled his eyebrows at Snape.
Snape snorted and left the room quietly.
Remus’ mind turned to their troubled son. Darius had returned an hour after fleeing Remus’ company earlier in the day. It had been relief beyond all measure: he’d been on the verge of calling up a search party.
With careful self-restraint he had avoided making a big deal out of the boy’s absence, keeping his comments to a quick apology for his sharp words and a promise not to shout at Darius again. Darius had nodded his understanding without meeting his eyes and spent the rest of the day in his room stacking his bookshelf with all the toys their friends had been leaving for him.
The situation had seemingly been resolved, but Remus knew that Darius was going to take a long time to heal from whatever horrors had been visited upon him.
Snape slipped back through the door, interrupting his anxious thoughts and providing much filthier ones. He watched as the man took off his robe and climbed back into bed. He sighed; the spirit was most certainly willing but the body was out for the count. He contented himself with wrapping his arms about an unresisting Snape, wriggling until they were comfortably spooned.
It was some time later that he heard a sneeze and a juicy sniffle. They spent the rest of the night with enough clothing for decency, and a small girl dribbling between them in the bed.
Remus was expanding the bed first thing in the morning.
“Do you trust me?” Remus asked.
Snape’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Not under certain circumstances,” he drawled.
“Oh?” Remus prompted.
“If there were only one chocolate frog left in the house I wouldn’t trust you not to eat it when my back was turned.”
“Ah. That would be wise,” Remus agreed with a smile. “But under other circumstances, perhaps?” He held up a handful of white rope.
Snape put down his book. “Lupin. You do surprise me.”
Remus walked towards the bed. “So what do you think? Would you trust me enough to let me tie you, Severus?”
Snape held his gaze, reaching with his hand to stroke one finger along a loop of rope. Heat crawled up Remus’ spine, perspiration tickled under his moustache. He held his breath.
Remus released his breath in a sigh. “Tonight?”
“You’re quite sure the children are asleep?”
“Dead to the world,” Remus answered, then grimaced slightly at the morbid phrase.
“Very well then.” Snape turned back the bedcovers and stood. He’d worn a nightshirt to bed, as he had done ever since Donata’s cold had forced them to adopt decent attire for the night. He slipped the garment over his head and stood facing Remus. “How do you want me?”
“On your back, please,” Remus answered without hesitation.
He’d been picturing this in his mind for a few weeks, wondering if he dare suggest it. Remus dropped the towel he’d had wrapped around his waist after his shower, watching as Snape folded his frame back onto the bed, arms spread towards the top corner posts. Remus stepped forward to tenderly wrap the soft rope around Snape’s right wrist then around the bedpost, and proceeded to tie his other wrist to the opposite bedpost. His lustful feelings were held in check while he concentrated on looping and knotting. He wriggled a finger into the bindings without any trouble: not too constricting. Remus stepped back to admire the picture Snape made. He was hard in moments. Snape, who had been eyeing his bound wrists, dropped his gaze to Remus’ crotch and smirked.
Remus was quite sure that he would be the one smirking shortly.
After torturing Snape with licks, bites and pinches, he finally fell to preparing him for invasion. Snape had steadily become more vocal throughout their lovemaking, and was now sounding a little desperate. Remus arranged the man’s legs over his shoulders, noticing a fine tremble in the limbs, and slid home with a cry of intense pleasure.
Snape gasped and, gripping the ropes, pulled them taut; his wiry muscles bunched with tension. “I won’t last,” he ground out.
Every hair on Remus’ body was standing up and he could feel climax clawing at him. Still, he kept the pace of his thrusts painfully slow, long years spent in rigid self-control aiding him in overriding his instinct to pound mindlessly into Snape. “I…” he began.
“Stop it! STOP IT! Let him go!”
Their movements froze with a look of horror at each other.
“Get off him!” Darius screamed.
Remus turned to look at the doorway where their son was standing tense and white. He could see the boy trembling.
“Darius,” he started, gasping slightly as he pulled out of Snape and scrabbled for the bedcovers to cover Snape and himself.
“Take those off him, you fucking bastard!” Darius was pointed to Snape’s bound hands.
Mortified, Remus groped for the bedside table and used his wand to undo the knots. He stared at Darius in confusion. What had prompted such an extreme reaction? Surely he knew how things stood between his two fathers. “He’s not hurt, Darius,” he said gently. Remus glanced at Snape but he was gazing at the boy with a blank expression, taking the rope slowly off his wrists.
“I believe you forgot the silencing charm, Lupin,” he commented blandly.
Oh, shite – I did!
“Sorry,” Remus murmured.
“You animal! You bloody bastard! I hate you!”
“Darius!” He quite literally didn’t know what to say. How could one explain to a child the erotic nature of a bit of bondage with the one you love? “It was harmless fun, nothing more.”
“That’s not fun!” The boy screamed, “That’s what they did to my Mum, and she fucking died!”
Remus felt his skin goose bump. Things were starting to make a horrid kind of sense, including Darius’ familiarity with verbal obscenities. “That must have been a terrible thing for you, to lose your mother that way,” he choked out, “but that wasn’t what I was doing to Severus.”
“Come with me,” Darius stared at Snape. Tears rolled down his face, yet he hadn’t sobbed.
Wordlessly Snape reached for his nightshirt beside the bed, slipping it on over his head before sliding out from under the covers.
The man glanced back at him for a moment – Remus saw an odd light of triumph in his eyes – then he turned and walked to where Darius stood, pale and shaking but resolute, in the doorway of the bedroom.
They left together, Darius’ hand clutching at Snape’s. Remus stared at the empty doorway in disbelief.
An hour later he ventured out to use the bathroom and, leaving the light on, peeked into Darius’ room. The boy was asleep in his bed with Snape curled around one side; his hands firmly clasped around one of Snape’s. Black eyes gleamed at Remus in the reflected light from the hallway.
“Everything alright?” he whispered.
“Fine. Go to sleep, Lupin.”
Dismissed, he headed back to bed alone. It was a long time before he could put the events of the evening behind him long enough to find sleep.
Snape had a shadow. It was short and sombre-eyed and stared at Remus with unnerving mix of fear and hatred. They had to do something about Darius.
The boy had been attached to Snape for a week, unresponsive to all Remus’ attempts to resolve the issues of his lingering fear of Remus and the underlying trauma Darius carried from witnessing his mother’s murder. Snape had neither helped nor hindered, taking the view that he represented neutral territory for the boy, a safe harbour in a stormy sea. Remus felt stretched to breaking: he tried not to feel regret for taking Darius on, for thinking he could help him. Kids always gave their parents challenges – it was part of the parenting role – but something had to give.
Remus tucked Donata into the high chair and placed her dish on the little table in front. “There you go, sweetheart . Some yummy sandwiches.”
Donata peered at the bread with deep suspicion.
“It’s cheese, darling,” he sighed. Any more criticism and he was going to leave home.
“Eeez!” the toddler squealed, and fell upon the sandwiches, pulling the bread apart to devour the slices of cheese hidden therein.
Remus sighed again as he fumbled mentally to add more fibre to the evening’s prospective menu. He heard footsteps ascending from the laboratory: Severus and Son coming up for lunch. He could feel the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing to a rock-like solidity. He took a bite from his own sandwich for distraction and starting chewing busily. He bit his tongue. “Ow, shi…”
He clapped a hand over his mouth, to avoid both the spilling of a mouthful of half-masticated cheese sandwich and the finishing of a Bad Word. He looked up at Severus as he entered the kitchen to see the man smirking in amusement at his almost-lapse.
“Cheese sandwiches all round, with the addition of pickle for us,” Remus informed him.
“I like pickle,” Darius said quietly. He looked at Snape expectantly.
“No use telling me that, Remus made the sandwiches,” Snape responded, gesturing in Remus’ direction.
Remus stopped chewing the better to follow the exchange. Darius flicked a brief look in his direction, his eyes for once devoid of the usual anger and hatred. He looked wary more than anything else. “I like pickle,” he repeated, eyes downcast.
Remus swallowed. “How about I put some on your sandwiches then?”
Darius nodded jerkily, looking down at the table.
“Pass me your plate, please?”
Darius picked up his plate and held it towards Remus. His hand shook slightly. Remus took it and pushed himself up and out of his chair. He couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face once he was shielded from view. He took the jar of pickle down from the shelf, spreading some over Darius’ cheese and put the sandwiches back together, all the while aware that he probably looked like a lunatic with his face pulled into an expression of such vapid happiness. He took a second to school his expression, turning it down from maniacal to pleasantly friendly.
“Cheese with pickle for the young man at table one,” he quipped, placing the plate down in front of Darius.
The boy reached out slowly and picked up a sandwich, hesitating briefly before taking a bite. Remus watched him out of the corner of his eye as he took up his own lunch once more. He held his smile in check, glancing at Snape to gauge his reaction. He saw that same light of triumph behind Snape’s eyes, that odd glow that had been there after Darius had discovered Remus and Snape indulging in a spot of bondage a week previously. At that time it had made Remus anxious and confused: on top of everything else it had seemed like a betrayal of some kind. Just what kind he couldn’t fathom.
Remus felt the space behind his own eyes illuminate in sudden understanding. Snape had been happy that night, despite the circumstances of its occurrence, about the crack that had opened in the walls Darius had erected around himself. Unlike Remus, Snape had anticipated this moment.
He honestly didn’t know which he wanted to do more, snog the man senseless, or slap him senseless. Snape had demonstrated a certainty and faith in Darius where Remus had struggled and worried. It was galling. It was a little humiliating. And it was Snape.
“Just a little bit of bread now, sweetheart?” he tried to coax Donata.
The little girl held up her plate with its unwanted pieces of bread.
“Your mistress commands you, Lupin. Hop to it.”
Remus swung his eyes round to Snape. The man was damn well smirking at him again. He rose to retrieve another slice of cheese for Donata, plotting ways to get back at his lover.
No doubt about it – Snape was going to suffer. And this time he wouldn’t forget the silencing charm.
Remus stood in the doorway of Snape’s laboratory watching Darius taking dusty jars out of a wooden crate and carefully handing them up to Snape who stood on a short ladder. The boy struggled to read the labels on each jar as he lifted them into the light.
That’s pronounced aspodel,” Snape corrected mildly, taking the jar from Darius’ outstretched hand.
“You should spell it properly then.”
“Impertinent brat, there’s nothing wrong with my spelling,” Snape responded, scrutinizing the label of the jar he held. “Hmf.”
“Made you look!” Darius crowed and did a little hop.
Remus heard a muffled chuckle from the ladder and Snape placed the jar with its companions high upon the newly installed storage shelves.
“Watch where you’re prancing, clod!” he said over his shoulder, glancing up to meet Remus’ eyes.
“Am not a clot!” Darius objected, pulling another jar carefully out of the crate and frowning quizzically at the label.
“I said clod, not clot, although there isn’t much to choose between the two I suppose, you cloddish clot,” Snape remarked as he held a hand out for the next jar.
“What’s Wolf Bane?”
Remus felt his heart speed up in contradiction to the way his blood seemed to stop flowing. He stared at Snape’s back waiting to hear what he would say, wondering what he might have been about to say if he hadn’t happened to see Remus standing in the doorway.
“Perhaps Remus could tell you about that one, hmm?”
Bloody hell, Severus!
He cleared his throat and Darius’ head whipped around at the sound, his eyes instantly wide.
“Er, hello,” Remus ventured, waving a hand in vague salutation and feeling like a complete twit. “I came to see if you wanted some hot chocolate.”
Darius continued to stare at him as Severus answered without looking at him. “I could certainly use some refreshment. What about you, Darius?”
“Um…” The boy’s eyes flickered from Severus to Remus. “Yeah.”
“Yes, what?” Snape prompted.
“Um, yes, please?”
“Right. Two hot chocolates coming up,” Remus said. “Oh, and Wolfsbane is a plant used in the brewing of the devilishly difficult Wolfsbane Potion, which your father there…” He gestured at Severus, “Is able to brew for me once a month, as he’s about the best damned potions master in Britain.”
He fled back up to the kitchen and put a saucepan of milk on the stove.