Omni (omni_sama) wrote in lupin_snape, @ 2009-02-09 23:48:00 |
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Current mood: | sleepy |
Entry tags: | fic: nc17, fic: pg |
Fic: Maska Komodias (overall rating NC-17; part 2/?)
Title: Maska Komodias
Chapter: 2: Merely Players
Author: Omni (aka: rip_von_christ)
Rating: Overall= NC-17; current chapter= PG
Pairing: Lupin/Snape
Warnings: None for this chapter
Dislcaimer: I claim no rights to the characters, just the situations in which I'm placing them.
Summary: After the events of OotP and before HBP. Lupin is about to head out on a mission for which he is ill equipped. Severus, it seems, is the only one who can assist him. The last thing Severus needs at the moment is one more task to weigh him down, when he's already trying to cope with all that Albus is asking of him.
Go Back To:
Chapter 1
Go On To:
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
________________________________________
“I see why you have such problems with it,” Severus said with a scowl and nod, circling Lupin like a shark. “You’re trying to block me, as if you can mentally create a barrier.”
Lupin shifted, squirming under such intense scrutiny and tacking on a confused smile. “Isn’t that what Occlumency is, though? A shield? A barricade?”
Face twisting as if having just bitten into a lemon, Severus ceased his circling. “How positively juvenile. You really think that the mind is such a simple thing? And here you promised me that you’d be a better pupil than Potter.”
The smile vanished from Lupin’s face, and Severus felt one form on his own. He did not let it linger, however, squashing it and burying it beneath layers of cold condemnation.
“Are you familiar with Shakespeare, Lupin?”
Obviously the question threw the werewolf for a moment, as Lupin blinked at him uncomprehendingly. “Beg pardon?” he asked, tilting his head as if to better hear Severus.
“Shakespeare. He’s a muggle author, but I was inquiring as to whether or not you’ve heard of him, anyway.”
Again Lupin blinked, but then he slowly nodded. “Yes, I have. Though I think current wizarding scholarship agrees that he was probably a squib, not a muggle. His frequent use of magical beings and of magic in general does lend itself to the notion that he was familiar with such things. There’s also the negative representation of witches in Macbeth, which supports the theory that he is slightly embittered towards those who posses magic.”
Severus stared blankly at him. “Fascinating. But, I did not bring up the subject of Shakespeare in order to discuss current theories pertaining to his parentage. I was more concerned with an oft-quoted passage from the play As You Like It.” Pausing, Severus waited for Lupin’s acknowledging nod before continuing. “The line is ‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.’ You’ve heard it?” Another nod. “That is what you must take to heart, if you wish to become an effective spy and to master Occlumency.”
“How do you mean? I thought that passage was concerning the different stages of life…”
Heaving a sigh, Severus made his way over to his liquor cabinet—for, it seemed that the house elves had already moved all of his belongings to his new quarters—and removed a half-empty bottle of firewhisky. “Stop trying to turn this into a course on the blasted details of Shakespeare. Ignore the rest of the passage,” he commanded, opening the bottle and pouring three fingers into a glass. “The only relevant bit is what I just quoted. Consider the world to be your stage, and you are an actor upon it.” Severus set the bottle down and took a nice long sip of the biting alcohol, but made no offer to provide any for his new student.
“An actor.”
“Yes.” Glass left on the cabinet, Severus turned to face Lupin. “You’ve known me for a very long time, yes?” Lupin nodded. “Would you be able to tell anyone what’s most important to me? Could you identify any and all people for whom I care? Can you tell when I’m happy? When I’m angry?”
Lupin looked away, squirming a little once more. “Sometimes, I think I might be able…” He trailed off, eyebrows coming together as doubt wrote itself across his face.
“I seriously doubt it,” replied Severus with a scoff. “All that you think you see is only what I allow you to see. Sometimes I’ll allow you to see a true emotion, but usually everything is false. As a spy, you must never allow anyone to know the real you. You must mislead them, allowing them to believe only what you want them to believe. The same goes for Occlumency.”
Realization was beginning to dawn on Lupin’s face, which was gratifying for Severus to see. Pity was also showing, which Severus wanted to wipe away with a strong backhand. “How long have you been pretending?” Lupin asked, his eyes searching Severus’ face.
“That isn’t the topic at hand,” snapped Severus, lifting his glass again for another sip. “Also, that is privileged information to which you most certainly are not privy.”
“Sorry.” Lupin backed down, letting his gaze fall to the floor. “Please, continue.”
“As I was saying before,” drawled Severus with a bored tone, “you are going about everything all wrong.”
“The barrier?”
Severus nodded once, concurring, but frowned. “And everything else.”
“How do you mean?”
“You already do go through life as an actor on a stage, Lupin, but you lack the skill and subtlety of a contemporary artist. Instead you move awkwardly through the motions, wearing a mask reminiscent of something from Ancient Greece.”
Lupin gaped at him, caught between offence and utter confusion. “Pardon?”
Black eyes narrowed, and Severus took a final, long hit from his glass before setting it firmly on the wooden surface beside him. “You’re transparent, Lupin. Disgustingly so, actually. The smiles you insist on applying to your face are cheap facsimiles of the real thing.” Severus’ lip curled. “Your eyes give you away, every time.”
Those eyes were staring at him in fear and disbelief, as if Lupin never thought anyone would catch on to his act. “I… But no one else has ever…”
“I imagine not, no.” Again Severus nodded in concurrence. “Then again, they all want to be fooled. They want to believe that you’re happy, and that you like them, and that you truly find humor in their uninspired jests. Agents of the Dark Lord, however, do not want to be fooled. They will scrutinize you harshly and thoroughly, doubting you constantly. If they see even the slightest little thing to contradict what you’re trying to convey—a twitch of the eye, a cringe—they will see through your act and recognize you as false.”
The gravity of the situation seemed to slam suddenly into Lupin, and his breath came heavily. He staggered blindly backwards and fell into the nearest chair. “I didn’t think…but no one…how could…”
Severus ignored his mutterings and moved to take a seat in the chair facing Lupin’s. “I will teach you how to be an actor of the highest caliber,” he said, his black eyes earnest and cold and completely professional. “When I am through with you, the mask will be replaced by talent.” Eventually Lupin raised his eyes to meet Severus’, and there they caught, ensnared by their calculating depths. “And when I am through with you, any Legilimens who peers into your mind will see only what you wish him to see.”
He had pondered on which aspect he should approach first in Lupin’s lessons—the physical or the mental. Eventually Severus had decided that the physical would be better to start with, considering his student was not terribly experienced in such mental training. Considering the similarities in preparation for them both, he figured that the mastering of the physical would make the mental training easier.
“First we will work on your smile,” proclaimed Severus, sitting back in the chair and tenting his fingers. “I want you to smile for me, and actually look like you mean it. Now.”
Lupin stared at him for a few loudly-ticking seconds, then closed his eyes and seemed to compose himself. As he opened his eyes, a smile tugged easily up at his lips until he was positively beaming at Severus. Unimpressed, Severus shook his head.
“Your eyes still betray you. Tell me, what were you thinking just then?”
Suddenly the smile washed away and Lupin looked blankly back at him. “Thinking? I don’t know… I don’t think I really was thinking of anything much, other than that I had to smile.”
Severus gave a thoughtful little hum and tilted his head minutely. “And the problem reveals itself,” he said.
Lupin huffed and ran his hand back through his shaggy hair in frustration. “Well, let’s see you do it, then. I’ve never seen you smile, so how do I know you’re not just talking a lot of bunk, eh?”
What happened next struck Lupin dumb. Releasing a chuckle, Severus smiled, his black eyes glittering in the low light as if highly amused, and his whole demeanor seemed friendly and inviting. “Sorry, you’re right.” He laughed again, softly, reminiscent of Albus. With a fluid motion which completely clashed with his usual rigidly tense posture, Severus rose from his chair and walked towards the liquor cabinet again. “Perhaps I’m being a bit too hard on you too soon. Would you like a drink? Something to help you relax?”
Lupin’s jaw worked for a second before any sound came out. “Yes. Thank you, Severus.”
Giving a low nod, Severus smiled at Lupin with all the warmth and familiarity of an old friend as he poured a fresh glass of firewhisky. “It’s no problem at all, Remus. Forgive me for not offering you one sooner.” He maintained that friendly continence as he took the glass over to Lupin, holding it aloft as if to hand it to him. As Lupin reached for it, Severus snatched it back and walked over to his own chair, his usual scowl killing his friendly expression. “Idiot.”
Seemingly hurt, Lupin retracted his hand and slumped in his seat. “Point well received, Severus. I acknowledge your superior acting abilities.”
“Do you know how I did that?” he asked before taking a sip of his drink. Lupin shook his head, looking quite resigned and fully embarrassed. “The theory and practical aspect should prove quite easy for you, considering it’s a bit like summoning a patronus.”
That seemed to catch Lupin’s eager attention. The werewolf sat up in his seat and leaned forward a little. “How do you mean?”
“To make yourself appear happy—truly, and fully happy—you wrap your mind in a feeling grounded in experience. Trick yourself, in other words. Plug that emotion into your brain, telling yourself that it’s what you’re feeling right now. The same system can be applied to any emotion you’re portraying.” Another sip. “Give it a try. Summon a smile, Lupin.”
This attempt took longer, but the results were far more satisfactory. Unlike all his other smiles, this one looked almost passable. There was still room for improvement, of course, but that was to be expected. Acting was a difficult skill to learn, and Lupin had a lot of reprogramming to undergo, considering he’d been going about it all wrong for his entire life.
“Better. Now, let’s make it a tad more difficult for you.” Severus stood, and in one cobra-quick motion, had splashed the entire contents of his glass across Lupin’s chest and lap. “Now give us a big smile. Like you mean it. Like you enjoyed having me pour firewhisky all over you.”
Severus watched the muscles in Lupin’s cheek twitch as the werewolf clenched and unclenched his jaw. Then a slow breath leaked from Lupin’s lungs, and a smile bloomed on his face. He laughed, tossing his hair back and running fingers through the locks when he realized they’d also gotten damp. “Severus, you ol’ dog! If you’d wanted me out of my clothes, you only needed to ask. There’s no need to get them soaked like this.” When he looked up at Severus, those amber eyes were alight with mirth and affection and lust.
Frowning, Severus walked to the cabinet and set the glass down beside its mate. “Excellent job. An odd angle for you to work, but it was effective and satisfactorily convincing.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “That will be all for tonight, I think. Consider what I have taught you thus far and practice on it. I want you to identify suitable life experiences for every emotion you can possibly imagine. Tomorrow I will test you and your limits, seeing just how well you can maintain your act under certain amounts of pressure.”
“Sounds fine,” agreed Lupin, who remained sprawled languidly in his chair, smiling up at Severus with predatory eyes.
Severus nodded, pointedly not looking at Lupin and his shameful display, and headed for the door. “Until tomorrow, then.”
“Good-night, Severus. I look forward to seeing you again.” Lupin’s voice was honeyed and sultry, and Severus was confused and begrudgingly impressed that the man was catching on so quickly.
He was also morbidly curious about what life experience lent itself to such an act. Perhaps something to do with Black. Not that Severus actually cared about the inspiration. Or that it likely came from Black.
Because, of course, Severus didn’t care at all.
_______________
To be continued…