Refocus -- A Meta Adventure Title: Refocus Author: Irena Candy Pairing: SS/RL Word Count: 1687 Rating: G Completed: Yes Summary: Severus and Remus write a story. Disclaimer: Anything that you recognize is the property of J.K. Rowling. Everything else is the product of this fan's imagination. Warning(s): None A/N: A meta-fiction adventure -- especially for lore.
"This is going to be great!" Remy said enthusiastically, his quill traveling rapidly over the parchment.
Sev, leaning back in his chair with his long legs stretched out to the Three Broomstick's cozy fire, sighed at his friend's exuberance. "Slow down. We need a plot first. You can't just start scribbling."
"Plot, schmot!" Remy retorted, reaching for his mug of butter beer and taking a healthy swallow. "It's just for the Yule Feast, isn't it? It only has to be fun, with lots of characters in it that people can recognize. and laugh over. It's going to be a hoot!"
"So, what have you got in mind?" Sev asked, pondering the toes of his shiny, black, dragon-hide boots.
"I want it to be a magical adventure story, with lots of danger and plot twists and interesting people. Most of the action should take place at Hogwarts."
"That's stuffing a lot into it," Sev said, sounding dubious. "We only get fifteen minutes to read it to the audience, you know."
"Sure, sure. No problem." Remy scribbled away, tongue clamped between his teeth and brow furrowed in concentration.
After a while Sev got up and moved around the table to read what his lover was writing. He leaned over the other boy's shoulder, pausing to kiss the side of his throat, and scanned Remy's neatly formed handwriting.
"James marries Lily Evans? You've got to be kidding!" He hooted with derisive laughter.
"Right!" Remy said, brushing back his thick brown hair. "That's what makes it funny, see!"
"Sirius will have a fit," Sev said flatly. "You know how jealous he gets if James even looks at anyone else, male OR female."
"Lighten up, Sev! It's just for laughs."
"And you've paired Narcissa up with Lucius Malfoy? She'll have your bollocks for breakfast!"
"I'm relying on you to protect me," Remy said complacently.
Sev draped his arms over Remy's shoulders and rubbed his fingers in delicate circles, tracing the other's nipples through the cloth on his chest. "I never have understood what she sees in Alastor Moody, to be honest."
"Me neither," Remy admitted. "I'm going to write him up as something really bizarre. That will get up her nose."
"You'll be lucky if you don't get hexed by both of them."
"Hey, it's got to be strange or it won't be funny. That's the whole point!" Remy swiveled around in his chair and hauled Sev down for a quick, enthusiastic kiss.
* * *
Severus's thin lips quirked in a slight smile as pondered what he'd just read. "Not bad," he said after a moment, staring pensively into the fireplace, where the flickering flames were burning low in the Hog's Head tap room. "I think writing ourselves into the plot as a pair of enthusiastic teenagers is a clever idea. Everyone will get a kick out of that. Why did you set it in the Three Broomsticks?"
"Well, we can't use either of the common rooms. I mean, if I went into the Slytherin common room when I was a teenager your crowd would have jinxed me to bits."
"Good point. I like it. I like the kiss too," he added in a dark-chocolate baritone purr.
"I always like a kiss. More than one, actually," Remus said, considering his dark-haired lover. "Other things beyond kisses, too."
"Watch it!" Severus said, with a hint of laughter in his obsidian-black eyes. "This is for the Yule Feast, remember? It's for a general audience, so no smut."
"Damn! I was looking forward to writing a nice steamy sex scene."
"We could do more research for that," Severus said, considering.
"Lots of research," Remus agreed, "by moonlight."
"You mean you want to take notes next time we're in bed?" Severus asked, quirking an eyebrow as he reached for his glass of fire whiskey.
"As long as we don't get ink on the sheets."
Severus shrugged. "That's what house elves are for." He considered the work in progress again. "We need a villain."
"A villain?" Remus looked doubtful.
"We've got to have someone for the Good Guys to fight and we're the Good Guys." He nodded. "Definitely! We need a villain."
There was silence for a moment while they both thought about that.
"I know!" Remus said, starting to laugh. "Let's use old Tom Riddle!"
"Riddle!" Severus rolled his eyes. "As a villain? Oh, really! All that old buffer ever does is show up at the alumni reunions, bore everyone in sight about his billywig collection, and proposition all the cute seventh-years."
Remus wiped his eyes, still chuckling. "Sure! That's what makes it a laugh. We can write him up as this psychopathic killer with nut-case parents and delusions about some kind of omen or prediction."
"All right, write that it was Sibyll Trelawny who made the prediction," Severus said, entering into the spirit of the idea. "She can be a weird sort of comic fraud who's hooked on divination."
Remus whooped with laughter and scribbled some more. "Sibyll will have hysterics! She thinks divination is a pile of thestral droppings. I'll make her a lush with a taste for cooking sherry too."
Severus snickered. "She's going to hate us for that!" He bent a little further down to nibble on Remus's earlobe. "Can I be a spy? "I've always wanted to be one of those mysterious characters swirling around in a black cloak." He nibbled a little lower.
"Hey! Don't do that! You know I can't concentrate when you do that."
"So don't concentrate," Severus said, blowing gently into his ear. "Forget the story and let's go play."
"Nope," Remus said, shaking his head resolutely. "It's only three days until the Yule Feast and we have to get this done."
"Spoil sport." His partner sighed and walked back over to the fireplace, holding his hands out to the warmth. "Riddle has to have a gang of some kind. All master criminals have gangs."
"You're right. We can call them the Death Dealers."
"That sounds like card sharks, or maybe used car salesmen."
"Death Eaters?"
"You mean they're all suicidal?"
"Picky, picky, picky!"
* * *
Lupin, swirling the brandy in the bottom of the snifter he was holding, looked over Snape's shoulder and grinned. "I like it so far! Writing ourselves into it as budding young authors writing about themselves as teenagers is a funny idea, and lampooning the rest of the staff will be good for a few laughs,. I can't wait to see Riddle's face when he hears it."
Snape grinned complacently and laid down his quill for a moment to stretch. It was warm and comfortable in the Hogwarts staff room, and for the moment the two professors were the only ones there.
"But since this is a Yule roast in honor of Dumbledore's retirement we really need to work him into it somehow," Remus continued, lifting his glass to his lips and sipping at the fine old liquor.
Snape rubbed the side of his nose with the end of the quill. "How about making him a strange old codger with a murky past?"
"Who's always on a sugar high."
"And has an erotic fixation on a terrorist!"
"Love it!"
"Minerva will have a fit," Snape said. "You know how she is about upholding the honor and dignity of the Headmaster's position!"
"Screw Minerva!"
"Please!" Snape said, with a theatrical shudder. "Since he's retiring, we ought to kill him off -- as a literary metaphor. How about shoving him off of the top of the Astronomy Tower?"
"I like that! You're succeeding him as Headmaster, so you should be the one to do it."
"Sure, why not!" Snape said, jotting down rapid notes.
"If we're going to be in this ourselves, we both need to be weirder," Lupin commented, idly stroking the back of his lover's neck.
"Ummm, keep doing that!"
"Only if you keep writing."
"That's composing under difficulties," the hook-nosed professor protested. "Okay, I'll make myself snarly and snarky, with bad teeth, a fish-belly complexion, and terminally-greasy hair."
Lupin snickered. "Great! And I can be a tortured soul with some kind of terminal disease."
"Are we into pathos here?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Okay, then I'll write you into a torrid but shallow romance with a sexy young witch--Nymphadora Tonks!"
"Wow, you really know how to hurt a guy!"
"But you die tragically at the end," Snape amended. "In fact, I think we should both die tragically."
"Well, that's one way to end it, I guess. Is that all?"
Snape shuffled the pages and took another sip of brandy. "It's enough for a fifteen minute presentation. Too much more and we might as well write a seven-book saga."
"It still sort of needs something," Lupin said, musing. "Something that's really off-the-wall and gives it that last little bit of flash and flare." He paced around for a bit, while Snape fiddled with his quill and watched.
"I know! We need to write a Muggle into it!"
"Oh, come on now! That's too bizarre even for a lampoon."
"No, no! Look, we can put the Muggle into a frame."
"A frame?" Snape asked, narrowing his eyes. "You mean where someone at the beginning of the story finds the main story in a bottle, or buried in an old trunk in the cellar?"
"Right; that's the idea." Lupin tossed down the rest of his brandy.
"I guess we could say that we found it in some deserted storeroom, but that sort of rules out a Muggle."
"Not if it was some Muggle woman who wrote the whole thing. A sixth-year could have found the story on a seat in a pub, brought it to school, and hid it in the the Room of Requirement."
Snape chuckled. "You're weird. What do you want to call the writer? Something typically Muggle, I suppose. How about Joanne?"
Lupin laughed. "That's perfect!" He poured out another couple of fingers of brandy for each of them and lifted his glass. "Here's Evanesco to our enemies and Confundo to our friends!"