Omni (omni_sama) wrote in lupin_snape, @ 2010-01-13 20:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic: pg13 |
Fic: Silvery Revelations (PG-13; part of the Patronus Series)
I think...my laptop's virus may be gone...! In celebration (and as a belated birthday present to Severus), here's another installment of the Patronus Series! Been saving it for when my laptop lets me safely get online. :)
Title: Silvery Revelations
Author: Omni (aka rip_von_christ...ME)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Lupin/Snape (Harry+Snape?)
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, just the situations in which I'm placing them.
Warning: None, really. Aside from it being like most of my fics, and un-betaed. ;)
Series: The Patronus Series
Story 1: Expecto Patronum!
Story 2: Not a Wolf
Story 3: Symbols of Rome
Story 4: Points of Contact
Story 5: A Reunion of Sorts
______________________________
Albus had pleaded with him. Looked him right in the eye and begged for it. Severus had stood there, wand at the ready, his mind a rushed jumble of thoughts.
He had to focus on everything that Albus ever did to anger him. The curse would never work unless he meant it.
There was no denying that Severus, in that moment, rather hated Albus. Hated him for forcing Severus’ hand like this, for never taking into consideration what he was asking Severus to sacrifice.
Fenrir Greyback snarled, urging Severus to hurry. Fenrir. Not his Fenrir, though. No, that wolf was somewhere else in the castle, trying to minimize the casualties and damage. Wasn’t Odin supposed to be the good guy, though? Wasn’t the giant wolf meant to be a villain? Something was wrong. Everything was wrong.
As the green light washed over Albus, Severus wondered with a morbid hopefulness if Lupin would be the one to get revenge. His eyes followed the old man’s descent, but his mind was envisioning a giant wolf’s maw opening wider and wider until it was his entire world.
---
Much later, while Severus sat in a dark room and fought back images of fire and curses, his own words came back to him.
Lupin wasn’t a wolf. He couldn’t be the Fenrir to Severus’ Odin.
He closed his eyes against the darkness, and wondered if they could ever be anything to each other. No archetypal figures from any myths could match them in analogy, which led him to one bleak conclusion: they were nothing. There was no “they,” and it had been a fool’s dream to imagine there ever had been. Or ever could be.
Severus was not Odin. Such pompous presumption on his part to have said so. Of everything represented by the raven, he had arrogantly claimed the most grand, the least sullied. In truth, he knew he was a tainted, dark thing, and not a wise war god. He was Death and Darkness and Despair.
And Lupin? How cruel for him to have associated that man with the ravaging wolf of Ragnarök. Lupin was more controlled, more sharp and dangerous and beautiful. He was meant for the sunlight, while Severus was destined to dwell in the moon’s shadow.
---
Severus’ patronus had been the same for over seventeen years. In fact, it was the first patronus he had ever had. They didn’t teach that spell in school, and he had learned it from watching someone else perform it.
From watching Lily perform it.
Of course, she hadn’t any clue that he had seen her. He’d been wearing a hood and a mask, and doing his best to keep back and away from her. That wasn’t the first time he started to have second thoughts about following the Dark Lord, but it was the first time he seriously considered doing something to change things. It was also the first time he’d ever seen dementors repelled by silver animals.
That night he had researched the spell extensively, and had worked secretly at it until he’d had it perfected. It never surprised him that his patronus matched Lily’s. She was, after all, the source of his happiest memory.
Over seventeen years later, he found himself staring in shock at an alien patronus flying from his wand.
It had been the day he’d learned that Remus Lupin had survived. The Prophet told all about Lupin’s coma, and eventual revival. Being foolish in his relief, Severus had gotten the silly idea to send Lupin a message via patronus (for that was surely much quicker than by owl). He hadn’t even paused to consider the ramifications of Lupin seeing a silver doe sent from him. All that had been on Severus’ mind was…well…really, he can’t claim he had anything in particular in his head, and fully admits to behaving like an irrational idiot.
It was a bit sobering, however, to see an eagle soar about the room and land on the back of a chair. The patronus, by necessity, was silver, but the species of the eagle was golden. Symbol of the Roman Empire, not to mention several other nations since and currently. But in that moment, Severus wasn’t thinking about empires or flags. He was remembering reading about hunters using golden eagles to pin down wolves for them to kill. He was remembering images of those eagles, with their brown and grey feathering, highlighted with a crown of gold. He remembered amber eyes.
He laughed, because Severus Snape was not a man who made a habit of breaking down and crying.
He laughed as he realized that somehow he could think of Lupin without the twisted bitterness and pain that had accompanied every memory since learning of his lover’s marriage.
He laughed because he didn’t know why he was laughing.
When finally he was composed, he sent the eagle out to find Lupin, with instructions to only deliver the message if Lupin was alone. Really, it was a good thing that the patronus had found Lupin entertaining guests, because—as mentioned—it was a very silly thing indeed for Severus to send such soppy greetings. Really, he hadn’t been in his right mind. That’ll happen when someone you care for returns from the dead, though, so he could be forgiven this lapse of judgment.
It wasn’t until he was returning from the glassblower’s shop, crystalline, custom bottle in hand, that Severus realized he was still acting like a fool. Lupin didn’t hold any lingering feelings for him. That was made quite obvious by the unavoidable fact that Lupin had married not too long after Severus’ staged betrayal. It was then underscored and done up in giant, glaring letters when Lupin had a son.
It was insensitive and stupid to try to pursue something so soon after his wife’s death. He knew that. Of course he knew that. So, he wasn’t going to propose anything, or even suggest that he’d even consider proposing anything. No, he’d simply offer the Wolfsbane to Lupin as a friend.
Perhaps even that would be too presumptuous, though. He’d offer it as a former colleague. No, best add more distance, just in case. As a concerned, responsible wizard, who has it within his power to see to it that a potentially dangerous threat is handled with the highest caliber of precaution.
Ah, yes, that would do nicely.
Of course, just as with most of Severus’ life, things did not go quite as planned. That was how he found himself sitting down for supper at Lupin’s for the eighth time in two weeks. It was also how he found himself looking down at a teal-haired toddler who had just succeeded in rolling into his foot.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was marveling at how he could possibly look at the child and not still feel that raw, core-deep pain that had been there at the start. It had faded to a dull ache, and occasional twinge of sharp, flickering pain.
Teddy giggled madly, rolling back and forth on and off Severus’ booted foot. Lupin tutted and apologized, and Severus saw concern hiding behind the other man’s smile. He knew why there was concern, of course. Ever since their tentative attempts at—whatever this was—Lupin had tried his best to keep Teddy a respectable distance from Severus. It was, quite frankly, rather awkward.
“It’s fine,” Severus assured, reaching down to pick the child up. Teddy wobbled a bit in his hold, but that only seemed to entertain the boy even more, and his giggles grew louder. “He has your eyes, you know.”
Lupin chuckled, and turned to retrieve a basket of dinner rolls to bring to the table. “He has whatever eyes he wants.”
“How do you know? I’ve only seen him change his hair color, nothing else. Who’s to say that’s not the extent of his powers? Perhaps he just naturally has your eyes.” He looked at those eyes, which stared back at him all scrunched up with delight. They tilted the same way, and were the same rich amber tone. “It’s a sign he’ll be handsome, I’d say.”
Setting the rolls down, Lupin gave him a startled glance and a shaky smile. “Careful, Severus. I’d almost think you were trying to give me a compliment.”
“Almost? Well then, I should perhaps be more overt. Your son has inherited your looks, thus guaranteeing he’ll be quite handsome when he’s older. Make the obvious deduction from my statement, and I assure you it shall be the accurate one.”
Lupin laughed at this, and Severus felt a smile tug at his lips. “I hadn’t realized you were such a charmer, Severus! You’re bound to turn my head with such excessive flattery.”
“I should hope so, else what on earth am I doing here?” He really rather enjoyed the sort of smile that Lupin expressed in that moment. In all the time Severus had known the man—and really, it was quite a long time—he could recall very few instances where he’d seen such a smile. Usually Lupin’s eyes would be haunted by shadows that would taint any attempts at expressions of joy. Lupin was far more attractive without those shadows.
Silently Severus rose and sat Teddy in his highchair, and then turned to face the father. Lupin was watching him, curiosity and hope unable to hide themselves from where they peeked out of the man’s eyes. This could work, Severus thought with a rush of some unknown, beautifully pleasant emotion. For once in his life, something could actually turn out well.
“We should tuck in,” said Lupin, though his eyes were locked with Severus’. “Food will get cold.”
“Of course,” Severus agreed, stepping away from the table and closer to Lupin.
They hadn’t kissed since their reunion. Severus suspected Lupin was holding back from making a move until Severus made one of his own. The dolt probably thought he’d scare Severus away if he tried anything “too soon.” Idiot.
Severus would show him that there was no “too soon,” just “not soon enough.” Lupin’s breath against his lips was familiar, but long-missed. His scent wasn’t quite the same as Severus remembered it, but he attributed the difference to being in close proximity to a baby. Beneath the scent of talcum powder and milk and spit-up, however, was the earthy, spicy scent of Remus Lupin. Pulling Lupin close, Severus inhaled the scent greedily, conjuring up memories and wishes he’d thought were murdered.
They still fit together just as perfectly as Severus remembered. Lupin’s mouth worked at his in the same wonderful way, and Severus wanted to never have to miss the sensation again.
It was indeed shaping up to be a very promising evening. That was, however, until someone began banging insistently at the door.
“Damn,” Lupin growled, which was so unexpected that Severus found it fascinating, and started thinking up different things he’d like to hear Lupin growl.
Lupin barely had time to open the door, before a petite whirlwind of frizzy hair burst into the room. Hermione Granger was rambling a mile a minute, in an uncharacteristically incoherent fashion. As soon as she spotted Severus, her words came to an abrupt halt, followed one step later by her feet. The respite from her rambling was unfortunately quite brief. “Mr. Snape! Oh! Oh, Remus, I didn’t mean to—am I interrupting? I could come back, but…no! No, I’m sorry, but I really must speak to you right away. You, too, Mr. Snape. It’s actually quite fortunate you’re here, because this matter pertains to you, as well, and it’s perhaps best if you both find out now before tomorrow’s paper comes out.”
“Hermione. Take a breath.” Lupin seemed amused by the never-ending stream of prattle falling from her mouth in unnecessarily high-pitched tones. Mostly, Severus just wanted her to get on with it and get out so he could enjoy the rest of his evening.
“Yes. Yes, of course. Sorry. It’s just… Well, you’ll understand in a moment, I’m sure.”
Smiling indulgently, Lupin nodded and directed her to sit down. She waved the offer away, and remained standing in the middle of the kitchen with a rigid posture and agitated hand wringing. All the excitement had, of course, gotten Teddy excited, so Severus turned away from her to find one of the toys he’d seen lying about.
“You see, Harry was granting some interviews—he’s been avoiding them for as long as possible, really—and someone brought up some of his achievements prior to the Final Battle. By now everyone already knows he can cast a full patronus, so I’ve no idea why that reporter thought it would even be news-worthy, but suddenly everyone wanted him to cast it so they could take photos and who knows what. So, he did. Naturally.”
“Naturally.” Even though he still sounded somewhat humoring, Lupin’s voice also started to take on a puzzled tone.
“Well, it seemed that the patronus was news-worthy, after all, since it wasn’t what anyone was expecting. I don’t even think Harry expected it, really, judging by the dumbstruck expression on his face. Then he was blushing like mad, and ducking out with a choked ‘no further questions.’ Ron, poor dear, didn’t know what to make of it, and I imagine he’s still trying to puzzle it out. No doubt he’s going to discuss it with Ginny, and the two of them are going to be trying to figure out a correlation that quite frankly does not seem to exist.”
“Hermione, dear, you’ll have to elaborate. I gather his patronus has changed?”
“Yes. Yes, it has. It… Well, it’s a… Oh, Remus, really, I think your representation is far more flattering and true to form.”
Severus’ hand stilled in the process of jiggling a jingly plush bear for Teddy. He did not turn around to face the other two, even when he heard Lupin’s voice suddenly grow hollow.
“What are you talking about, Hermione?”
Granger’s breath hitched a bit as she inhaled deeply, trying to collect herself to say what she had to say. “Harry’s patronus is a bat.”
“A bat.” There was a touch of denial in the forced tone of ignorance.
“Yes. Well, you see… Ever since we started school, that’s sort of been…what Harry called Mr. Snape. A bat.”
“What he called Severus.” There was a pause, and Severus set the toy down on Teddy’s tray, but still did not turn around. “But Harry barely even likes Severus.”
A pained little whine came from Granger, short and reflexive. “Ever since what happened at the Shack, Harry’s opinion has been different, really. And, after Mr. Snape disappeared, Harry was practically mad in his attempts to track him down. All he ever seemed to want to talk about was Mr. Snape, it seemed. I should have suspected something earlier, but honestly I just thought it was hero worship or—”
“It is.” Severus finally seemed to find his voice to speak, as well as his strength to turn around and face Granger’s apologetic gaze and Lupin’s blank stare. “He’s mistaking respect for something more, most likely because he has so little experience at it.”
Lupin barely blinked, staring at Severus with such a strangely devoid expression that Severus felt he’d prefer accusation or anger. “He respected Albus, but I don’t recall ever seeing a phoenix sprout from his wand.” Even Lupin’s voice seemed disturbingly empty.
Severus sneered. “Because Albus was more like a father to him.”
“You’re old enough to be his father,” Lupin seemed compelled to point out.
“And I taught your wife Potions, starting from when she was eleven. Do you really want to get into a discussion about age differences?”
Granger began edging her way back towards the door. “I should probably go. Sorry again for interrupting your dinner. I just thought you’d want to be prepared before getting the paper tomorrow, and…well…yes. So. Good-night.”
Lupin’s farewell was weak and late, and Severus didn’t bother offering one at all. The two of them stood there staring at each other while the baby cooed and smacked at the bear to hear it jingle. Eventually, Severus sighed and broke eye contact, glancing at the food. He absently wondered if he should cast a stasis charm on it. Then again, he wasn’t entirely certain he’d be staying long enough for it to matter.
“Is that what you two were discussing over dinner at his place?”
Severus closed his eyes, having no desire to look back and see that empty stare. “It was, yes. I made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he was being stupid.”
“No uncertain terms? Obviously there was still some uncertainty, Severus, or else he wouldn’t be harboring enough hope to… Jesus, this can’t be seriously happening, can it? Tell me you haven’t been seeing him.”
At that, Severus turned a fierce, indignant glare on him. “Unlike some, I’ve no interest in bedding children.”
“But you certainly seem to enjoy bringing my wife up quite a bit in this conversation. So, no desire to bed children, even in the name of revenge?”
“Revenge? What the hell are you—”
“Revenge for marrying her, for having a son together.”
“You honestly think I’d fuck Harry Annoying-as-shit Potter just to get back at you for not even allowing my side of the bed to cool?”
“Watch your mouth around my son, please. And, honestly, I don’t know what you’d do. I know that a man like you is capable of a great many things, and I’m sure that it’d be no great sacrifice for you to bed a young, attractive wizard for the sake of some twisted notion of revenge or regaining your honor or whatever.”
For a solid moment, Severus was very, very still. Then he was sweeping around the table, getting right up close to Lupin just as they’d been before Granger arrived, minus one very important element: the desire for kissing was quite conspicuously absent. “Is that what you really believe?” He searched Lupin’s eyes, but had no desire to use Legilimency. All he wanted to know was the truth, not any of the insulting details.
Lupin diverted his gaze, and Severus saw the pain that was hidden beneath the cold mask. “No.”
“Don’t insult me with a lie, Lupin.”
Cringing at the continued use of his family name, Lupin forced himself to meet Severus’ eyes again. “It isn’t a lie. I…” He sighed, and seemed to somewhat deflate with the expulsion of air. Severus marveled at how all of Lupin’s ire also seemed to bleed away, leaving the man looking sad and tired. “Just the green-eyed monster, is all.”
“I know Potter can be quite horrid, but I don’t think I’d go so far as to call him a monster.”
It wasn’t until Lupin caught the subtle smirk playing at one corner of Severus’ mouth that he realized it was a joke. Chuckling, he shook his head, and Severus enjoyed the brief glimpse of humor in those dark amber eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”
The tension seemed to have diffused, leaving a perfect void for silence to slip in and occupy. Severus shifted back a step, looking once again towards the food. He didn’t feel particularly hungry anymore. Teddy made a happy sound as he gnawed on the plush’s foot with his gums, and the noise drew Lupin’s attention to the child.
“I had rejected Dora several times, and still her patronus had changed,” Lupin said softly, turning to fully face his son.
“What was the first form of your patronus?” Severus let his eyes caress along Lupin’s shaggy hair, and down along the bony curves of his shoulder blades through the thin fabric of his robes.
Lupin waved his hand and placed a stasis charm over the food, except for the mushy green substance that he had prepared for Teddy. “I didn’t have one, for a very long time.” He didn’t even glance Severus’ way as he went about gently coaxing the bear from Teddy’s grasp so he could feed the boy the mush.
“Didn’t have a patronus?”
“Didn’t have a form. At first, I couldn’t cast a full patronus. Only a shield, really. An amorphous silver glare.” The implications of that struck Severus harder than he’d ever expect. Lupin was supposed to have been one of the happy ones. Hadn’t he been one of the golden few, laughing in the light? Wasn’t it supposed to be someone like Severus, not Lupin, who was incapable of finding a memory happy enough to give his patronus full strength?
Teddy resisted the food at first, but Lupin smiled gently and parted his own lips until his son followed suit. Severus watched Lupin’s face, fascinated by the shifting expressions the same as Teddy was. “When did it take a form?”
Amber eyes softened as a memory undoubtedly replayed within Lupin’s mind. “The year I taught at Hogwarts.” Lupin deftly spooned back up a line of green dribble along Teddy’s chin, and a smile brightened his entire expression. “For so long, I had been walking about in a sort of grey haze. Not many would know it to look at me, but I was filled with so much anger and bitterness and grief. I thought being around you again would just make it worse, but instead…it made it better.”
It would just make some sort of sick, cosmic sense that Severus had fallen for a mad man. “Better? I’m an arse.”
Lupin laughed, which caused Teddy to grin in delight and Severus to raise a brow. “Exactly! Do you know how bloody difficult it was to not burst out laughing at some of your caustic remarks? It was as if all of my inner feelings were being put to voice by your lips. Sure, you could be a bit frustrating at times, but I also appreciated that, strange as it sounds. Everyone else treated me so sweetly, so gently. But you—you were willing to be honest and challenging and everything I hadn’t realized I needed. You woke me up, Severus. Cleared away the haze. For the first time in years, I had felt alive again. Not to mention I discovered that you and I have similar tastes in literature, follow some of the same research journals, and have surprisingly complimentary personalities. Just to name a few of our numerous compatibilities.”
Yes, Severus had noticed all those things, as well. It was why he had started feeling drawn closer and closer to Lupin since the man had waltzed back into his life. Well, part of the reason why.
When it looked as if Teddy had eaten his fill, Lupin set the small spoon down in the jar and set them both aside. “Eventually, I couldn’t help my mind wandering to thoughts of you. What you’d think of an article I’d just read, imagining what you’d say during a certain situation, if your mouth would taste like the oolong tea I always see you drink…” Lupin looked at him, and his smile tugged up a bit more on one side, eyes gleaming. “I realized I was smitten.”
All Severus could do was stare, hoping his features were trained well enough to not show how much the soppiness was affecting him. “I betrayed your secret.” It was the only thing he could think to say in response. Interestingly enough, it did not remove the smile from Lupin’s face.
“You did, yes. I understand, though. I understood then, as well. Don’t get me wrong; I’d certainly prefer to stay there. Teaching was an unexpected delight, and I really rather hated the thought of no longer being around you.”
“You don’t make any sense. You realize this, yes?”
Lupin laughed again, and moved to stand beside Severus. “Perhaps it seems that way.” Severus let the other man slip fingers into his hair, and run warm fingertips along the scant bit of exposed skin at his neck. Beneath the high collar, he felt the still-healing scar itch faintly. “I know about the curse on the position, Severus. How could I not? How could anyone not, when we kept having a different DADA professor each year?”
“I did it to protect the children from an irresponsible werewolf, Lupin, not to protect you,” Severus clarified, lifting his chin a fraction and forcing his mouth into a disapproving line.
“Of course.” Lupin, blast him, was not buying the act. When they were again pressed close in a heated kiss, Severus decided he didn’t quite mind that Lupin seemed far too skilled at reading him. “We should really eat,” Lupin eventually whispered against Severus’ lips. “Then, I should put Teddy to bed.”
Giving an agreeing—though somewhat distracted—hum, Severus slid his hands down along the faint ridge of Lupin’s spine.
“And then,” continued Lupin, lips moving along Severus’ jaw now, “perhaps I should put you to bed.”
He felt the tension beneath the muscles of Lupin’s back, and knew the man was nervous despite his leer and suggestive grin. Severus realized that Lupin was scared, the fool still thinking there was a “too soon.”
Severus glanced over at Teddy, and told himself that he’d not let Lupin’s marital mistake keep him from what he wanted. The past, he told himself firmly, really does need to be left in the past. For the first time in his life, he felt ready to put all the bad behind him, and forge something new and better for himself. But first…
“There’s something I’d like to show you,” he said softly against Lupin’s ear, running his palms soothingly along the tense muscles for a second before pulling away.
Lupin tilted his head and gave him an inquiring look, though the uncertainty was still there. “Remember I told you once that despite your infliction, you were not a wolf, and therefore should never be defined as one?” He waited until Lupin gave a hesitant nod before continuing. “There are some werewolves who allow that aspect to overtake them. They become more wolf than human.” Again Lupin gave a nod, and Severus caught the minute cringe that was likely a reflection of a thought. “You have always struck me as someone who does quite the opposite. You do your best to subdue the wolf at all times. You overpower it. I see you as still something quite dangerous, yes, but not because of the wolf. It’s your strength, intelligence, and power. Remus, you are without a doubt still a formidable predator, but you are no wolf.”
Severus drew his wand and cast the spell with but a flick of his wrist, watching Lupin’s eyes as the man watched the large, silvery eagle burst forth.
Releasing a laugh that was more like a shocked huff of air, Lupin gripped the back of a chair and continued watching the bird fly about. Severus could hear Teddy squealing in delight, but he did not turn his eyes away from the dazed man before him. The eagle swooped in tight circles about the small room, being far too large a bird to be confined so, until it finally faded into nothing but curling tendrils of silver.
Finally, Lupin composed himself with a swallow and met Severus’ eyes. His scarred cheeks were heated, and his eyes were glistening. “Hermione had theorized, when Ron saw the eagle that day, and I had hoped… But the doe. What of the doe? When did it change?”
Somehow, it hadn’t surprised Severus in the least that Granger would have made the correct conclusion so quickly. Tucking his wand away again, Severus stepped closer. He reached out and ran his fingers through hair that would have matched a real version of that eagle perfectly. “It changed when the burdens were lifted, and when love wasn’t something painful to think about.”
“Jesus,” Lupin whispered with a chuckle in his voice, shaking his head. “You’re one romantic son of a bitch when you put your mind to it, aren’t you?”
Severus raised an amused brow and cast a glance at Teddy (who had taken to gumming wetly on his tiny fist). “Watch your mouth around the little one,” he said with a reproving tsk as follow-up.
“Terribly sorry, Professor,” Lupin said, with a feigned expression of being contrite. He moved to carefully lift Teddy up, and carried him over to the bassinet against the wall. After tucking the baby in, Lupin headed towards the door of his bedroom, and cast a glance over his shoulder at Severus. “Why don’t we take this into another room, then?” He paused in the open doorway, and gave Severus a positively obscene leer. “And then you can wash my filthy mouth out, Professor.”
Severus cast a quick glance at the food, decided that it would keep, and quickly moved to follow Lupin. At the moment, his hunger had nothing to do with food.