Omni (omni_sama) wrote in lupin_snape, @ 2010-01-21 14:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic: r |
Repost Month; Fic: FMLYHM (1/?...maybe)
This was previously only posted on my locked lj, under the Snupin filter. I wrote this back when I was supposed to do something for the '09 Dark Fest (prompt: Sirius/Remus), but things happened and I never got around to finishing it. Honestly, not entirely sure I think it's worth finishing. We'll see.
(Working) Title: FMLYHM
Rated: hard R
Pairings: RL/SS, SB/RL
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, just the situations in which I'm placing them. Fic (working) title taken from the Seether song of the same name (cut text is lyrics from the song).
Summary: Sometimes "perfect" isn't what we want. Sometimes, what we really want is something flawed and broken and dangerous.
Warnings: Not much for this part. Sex with Sirius (hey, I'd consider that a warning...), lies, deception, perhaps a cliche or three
Note: If you've never heard "FMLYHM" by Seether, I recommend it to my fellow Snupiners (song is NWS). It always makes me think of the rough, dark, gritty aspect of Snupin. I love it.
He could see his reflection in the window with nearly the clarity of a mirror. Beyond his spectral form, a town crouched in the darkness, trying to mask itself with ancient trees. The eyes that stared back at him were so unfamiliar, that he didn’t want to believe they were his. Did that gaunt, scarred face really belong to someone just out of his teens? He’d even found a few more grey hairs, earlier that day. Grey hairs! At twenty! He wanted to laugh, but the very thought of doing so actually hurt.
This wasn’t what he wanted out of life. All he wanted was to live like a normal wizard, to have a chance at happiness. The problem was that the wizarding world had gone to hell, so everyone was feeling stressed and scared and paranoid that every sunrise would be his or her last.
Though, he wondered if everyone else was also suspicious of his or her lover.
“Speak of the devil,” he muttered as the roar of a motorcycle tore through the silent night. Closing his eyes, he saw the next few minutes play themselves out, nothing more than a horribly-acted song and dance that’d be booed off the stage were there an audience.
Just as he had countless times before, Sirius burst through the door while riding a wave of adrenaline. All sharp grins and wind-blown hair, he moved straight to the liquor cabinet—a gift from James when Sirius turned twenty—and poured himself a drink he most certainly didn’t need. There was always a few minutes after his arrival which would remain charged with his excitement, and Remus could allow himself to be swept up in it if he wanted. It had been so easy to do in school, but for some reason he was finding it more and more difficult to let Sirius affect him that way.
“Staring out the window again, Remus? I’d almost think you were waiting for someone.” There was a dull clink as a glass was set down upon the low bookshelf beneath the window, and Remus watched Sirius’ face move beside his in the reflections. Strong arms enfolded him, pressing him back against a firm body that smelled like sweat and booze and cologne. Sirius never wore cologne. “Should I be jealous?” Sirius asked playfully—well, half playfully—as he nuzzled at Remus’ ear.
“I was waiting for you,” Remus lied, because he always lied nowadays. They both lied constantly. They both probably knew it, too.
“Well, I’m here.” A kiss was planted beneath Remus’ ear. “So where’s my welcome home kiss?”
Remus smiled even while part of him wanted nothing more than to shove Sirius away. Slipping into his role in this farce, he turned in Sirius’ arms and kissed him. Just like all the times before, Sirius’ mouth tasted like cognac, and Remus wondered if the alcohol had served to wash away the taste of another. It was a silly thought, however, because he knew that no matter what Sirius might have wanted, James was straight and madly in love with his wife. Though, Remus supposed there was nothing stopping Sirius from finding solace in the arms of someone else. Perhaps someone who bore more of a resemblance to James than Remus did.
Not that Remus could really begrudge him that. It would be very hypocritical of him to do so. Still, a man has his pride, and Remus’ pride stung at the very thought that he wasn’t really what Sirius wanted.
The kiss ended, and Remus affectionately finger-combed Sirius’ wild hair, occasionally letting his fingers trail along the man’s neck. “Have fun tonight?” Remus asked, eyes on the black strands and how they brushed along Sirius’ shoulders.
Sirius’ lips played at Remus’ temple, his hands straying down to grip his hips and pull him closer. “Of course. Managed to get three of the bastards, this time. Shoulda seen James; he was brilliant. The way he sent them flying…” Remus could feel Sirius’ erection press against his pelvis, and he closed his eyes while he continued to play with the hair.
There were two ways the evening could unfold from there: sex or fighting. To set course for the former, all Remus would have to do is brush that silky hair aside and kiss at Sirius’ neck. To set course for the latter, all he’d have to do is mention for the thousandth time how he thought James should really be staying at home with his very pregnant wife, instead of running around risking his neck with Sirius. But, that was an argument that had been over-played, the same words falling uselessly from both their mouths and never changing tune. “He’s doing it for her—for their child!” “But if he dies, who will be there to take care of them?” “I will!” “And if you both die?” “For fuck’s sake, do you really have so little faith in us!?” And so on it would go, voices trying to out-do each other, the tension mounting, and neither one budging an inch.
Remus brushed aside Sirius’ hair and kissed at his neck.
Later, after they both rutted with closed eyes and desperate movements, Remus would stare at the ceiling and entertain fantasies of running away. Sirius would be asleep beside him, his back turned to Remus, but he wouldn’t snore. He never snored. Because, after all, Sirius Black was perfect. Perfect people don’t snore.
Sirius’ perfection was so calculated that it appeared natural. Only Remus knew the truth, having lived with the man and witnessed his secret preparations. Charms for whiter teeth and to shape his eyebrows. An ungodly amount of hair care products to make the strands so silky and to create that elegantly disheveled look. Potions to make his breath always smell sweet, and his skin seem slightly tanner. The list went on, and Remus was certain there were probably many tricks that even he didn’t know about yet. Not that he really cared to find out. Frankly, he thought it was all superficial and stupid. What point was it to create a false image for everyone to idolize, since it wasn’t actually you they’d be adoring?
Turning his head on his pillow, Remus stared at Sirius’ back, at his long, black hair pouring across the pillows. There was a time, he knew, when he’d do anything for Sirius. He’d have sold his soul if it meant Sirius Black would look at him as something more than just a buddy. When it finally happened, he’d been ecstatic. And nervous. God, so damn nervous. He had no idea what he should do, and worried that if it wasn’t perfect, Sirius would dump him. Somehow he must have gotten it at least decently right, because Sirius had stayed with him. It was only later when Remus released that he was nothing more than a consolation prize for Sirius, not the object of love that he’d foolishly assumed himself to be.
Maybe that’s what started it, back when they were only fifteen. Maybe that realization was the seed that worked its way deeper into Remus’ fertile mind and eventually bloomed into such massive dislike. He couldn’t use the word “hate,” because that seemed like such a frighteningly strong word to him. He couldn’t actually stay with someone he hated, so it mustn’t be hate, only strong dislike. Perhaps a little loathing and resentment, too.
If that was the seed, then certainly Sirius’ “prank” in sixth year was the Kora’s Magically Miraculous Plant Grow Potion which helped it to become the monster that it was. That was, after all, the first time Remus truly realized that Sirius cared for no one but himself.
______
It was an unseasonably cold night in July when Remus found himself wandering parts of wizarding London he probably shouldn’t. Peter had nervously relayed a rumor, however, that someone matching Sirius’ description had been seen around these parts. Of course, Remus had scoffed, he was likely hunting Death Eaters. But Peter’s watery eyes darted aside, as if checking to make certain they were alone. No, Peter had said, not hunting them…but walking amongst their ranks. It was a suspicion that was already present in Remus’ mind, but he tried to deny the possibility still. Perhaps it was just Regulus that people saw, since the brothers were so similar, and everyone was fairly certain he was a Death Eater. Only problem with that theory was that Regulus had been missing for nearly two years.
So, Remus decided that he’d go see for himself. Hours of wandering later, and all he’d seen were a few stray cats and an old hag in tatty clothing. He was about to give up and go home, when a commotion caught his attention from up the street.
Shouts could be heard coming from a shop, accompanied by crashes and the trill of magic traveling through the air and along his nerves. Outside the shop stood a lone figure, masked in gleaming metal and hooded against the streetlamps. Identical figures burst from the shop doors, one of them shouting “do it now!” as they ran down the street. The one that had been waiting lifted his wand, and soon the street was flooded with green light as a giant Dark Mark writhed in the sky above.
Remus quickly pressed himself against the nearest building, hoping some shadows remained dark enough to hide him. The Death Eater who had cast the mark started off towards his comrades, but the wind knocked back his hood as he turned a corner, and Remus saw shoulder-length black hair.
There was only a moment’s pause, when his muscles all tensed and his mind debated with itself. Then he was moving, running down the street towards where the Death Eaters had fled, praying he’d reach them before they disapparated. He didn’t make it far after turning the corner, when hands were suddenly on him, pulling him into a black alleyway. Just as he was about to cry out, one of the hands switched to his mouth, and he tasted leather on his lips.
“Hush,” whispered a familiar yet unexpected voice, foul breath hot against his cheek.
Remus went still. He was held firmly against his captor, and he wasn’t sure whose heartbeat was hammering quite so wildly. Cloaked figures ran past on the street, and he heard them talking amongst themselves. “Where is he?” “Coward probably already left.” “We had more to do tonight! The Dark Lord will not be pleased.” “Leave him; we can do without such a weakling.” And then they were gone, scurrying away like rats into the night.
The hand on his mouth was suddenly gone as well, and the grip around his body went slack. Stepping away, he turned and came face-to-face with Severus Snape. Not much had changed since they’d been in school, though perhaps Snape had grown into his nose a bit more. Remus looked over the Death Eater robes, knew he should leave or hex the man, or do a million other things that were far different from what he knew he really would do. What he really wanted to do.
“Long time no see,” he said, and Snape sneered in disgust at the casual greeting.
“What the hell are you doing here, Lupin? You could have been killed if it was one of them that’d seen you and not I.”
Remus smiled a tilted, lopsided smile. “Thanks for saving me.”
Severus Snape had very thin lips. They weren’t like Sirius’ attractive lips at all. There was a more defined cupid’s bow in them, though, which Remus had always found to be quite charming. He watched it now, as Snape talked, eyes sliding along its sharp curves. “Who said I was saving you? Maybe I just wanted to capture you myself.”
Despite the threat, Remus chuckled softly and made no move to leave. “Go on, then.”
Black eyes bored into him, and Remus didn’t once look away, maintaining eye contact without fear. Eventually Snape sneered again, and diverted his eyes. “Why are you here?”
“I heard a rumor.” Should he say more? This was, after all, a Death Eater. “I was looking for Sirius.”
“For Black?” The name was a curse on Snape’s tongue, one that obviously tasted horrid. “What makes you think your beloved Black would be here, of all places?”
Beloved? No one knew about that…about them… Hell, he was fairly sure even James and Lily thought they were just really good chums. Snape must have read Remus’ confused panic on his face, because the man was smirking cruelly. “You’re not the only one who hears rumors, Lupin.” Snape advanced, closing the distance that Remus had made. “So, it’s true then? You’re his lapdog? His little kept woman?”
Remus Lupin was usually a very passive man, but in that instant he wanted to punch Snape. Hard.
“I’m not. I mean, we are… Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you!”
The smirk grew on Snape’s face, until his lips parted to reveal crooked teeth. “Touchy subject, I see.”
Remus backed away, but with a turn to his steps that somehow resulted in his back against a brick wall instead of finding the freedom of the street. Snape kept advancing, but he never got too close, never made Remus feel pinned. Some part of Remus was disappointed in that.
“You were with him then, too, weren’t you?” Snape asked, and Remus didn’t need to ask for clarification. Memories flashed through his mind of he and the Slytherin boy kissing, touching, being traitors to their houses and friends. Closing his eyes, he remembered banishing Snape’s reservations with the gentle pumping of his hand and the intimate embrace of his mouth. And, yes, he had been involved with Sirius at the time. It was before the “prank,” but after he’d already started to fall out of lust with his superficial, egotistical boyfriend. Instead, his head had been turned by another, who seemed far more real and infinitely fascinating.
“Yes,” he said, eyes still closed. He felt guilty for having misled that boy—now a man, who had become something dark and dangerous. There had been no chance of a relationship for them. Remus couldn’t risk Sirius revealing his condition out of spite.
Finally he got what that little part of his brain had secretly desired, Snape’s body pressing close and trapping him there. That long nose brushed aside his shaggy hair and he felt Snape’s words as warmth and vibration at his ear. “He saw. He knew. That’s why he tried to use you to kill me. Did you know that?”
Something constricted in his chest, and Remus couldn’t find the power to breathe. “What?”
“I saw him watch us once. One of the times we were in the forest. You had pressed me against a tree, much like I’m doing to you now. Do you remember that time? You were so very…enthused. I remember that I hadn’t even had time to think before you were on your knees, and then I really didn’t care about thinking. But, I saw him. I’m not sure if he knew I’d seen him, but regardless he stayed. Stayed until it was over, and then slunk away.”
Remus’ mind became a hornets’ nest of sound and it stung whenever he tried to focus on any one thought. “Why…why didn’t you ever tell me?”
But Snape didn’t answer. He merely pulled back, his face a better mask than the metal one of his affiliation. “Go home,” Snape commanded, and his voice was cruel. “Go back to your master, mutt.”
There was something inside Remus that was dying to snarl and lash out. His eyes were drawn to Snape’s neck, and he wanted to grip it, bite it. He wanted to make Snape his, to break him and wipe that perpetual disdain off his face.
Instead, he stepped sideways along the wall until he was clear of the man, then disapparated away.
Sirius was home already, surprisingly enough. Or, perhaps not really surprising, considering he was eagerly wrapping presents for baby Harry. Remus had forgotten that the child’s birthday was the next day, and was glad he’d already prepared his gift. When Sirius saw him enter, he smiled, grey eyes gleaming. The place was filled with such a happy radiance that Remus could almost forget where he’d just been, whom he’d just seen.
He didn’t, though. Couldn’t. The act was more difficult to maintain that evening, each smile painful and going against everything his mind was screaming. Laughing instead of cursing, kissing instead of punching. Sirius had no idea. Maybe he never did. Maybe Remus was the only one who saw what they had as nothing but a mockery of love. Or, maybe Sirius just didn’t care, so long as he kept his pet werewolf all for himself.
“You’re awfully affectionate tonight, Moony.” Sirius was grinning, obviously enjoying all the kisses that Remus had been freely giving him.
Remus didn’t say anything, but just kissed him again, harder, until Sirius dropped the half-wrapped enchanted teddy bear and Remus kicked it aside. It wasn’t long until the gifts were a scattered mess and Sirius was bent over the low coffee table as Remus kneeled behind him. Sharp hips slapped against a perfect arse, and it was probably painful, but Remus didn’t care. The thought just made him drive harder, not even letting up when Sirius’s scrabbling attempts at bracing himself failed and his upper body was flat against the polished wood.
One hand digging its fingers into Sirius’ hip, he buried the other in wild black hair. He focused on that hair, imagining it was someone else he had beneath him. If he tried hard enough, he could trick his mind into hearing a different voice make those grunts and pleas.