Fic: And Sometimes Darkness, part 8, SS/RL, R
Title: And Sometimes Darkness Author/Artist: undun Rating: mature/adult content, R Pairing(s)/character(s): Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, Nymphadora Tonks, Harry et al. Summary: After the War against the Dark Lord, some are left behind. Not forgotten by everyone, as Severus Snape finds out. Disclaimer: Not-for-profit fan creation. Warnings: I hate warnings. There may be unpleasant stuff in here. There, that’s it. Anything else would be a spoiler. Notes: A story that didn’t begin its life as an AU, but is now certainly in that category. Words: 1,922
8. At Tension
A hot mouth closed around him and he arched into the delicious heat, moaning, groaning. A firm tongue stroked along his length; it wouldn’t be long now. As if sensing this, the mouth moved its lips to the top, squeezing, licking – increasing the pace…
Er, wait a minute–
Unbearable pleasure, tongue in his slit, a firm, sucking rhythm…
But–
That’s it, almost there; thrust, thrust… Coming!
Shit! What–
Remus stared wild-eyed at the surrounding darkness, his breathing laboured, his heart pounding a military tattoo. He squinted at the other bed – nothing but a vague patch of not-black – trying to smother his panting enough to hear whether Severus was stirring. Nothing. Or, at least, nothing discernable above the thudding of Remus’ heartbeat. Gradually his breathing slowed, lassitude pulled at him as he forced his eyes wide, resisting the urge to blink or yawn. He relived those last moments, the wonderful sensations of an expert blowjob; his cock gave a subdued twitch in acknowledgement. He grimaced and groped around for his wand – there was a certain by-product he would rather not fall asleep on. His wand eluded him and he carefully eased out of bed. He really didn’t want Severus to wake up with his scent heavy in the air; the man would surely assume that Remus had been laying awake wanking like a teenager, not that the truth was any less undignified – but at least he was not guilty of any conscious involvement.
He padded barefoot to the bathroom, pulling the door closed before he turned on the light. He slid out of his pyjama pants and started the shower. Stepping in, he sighed at the pounding of the hot water, his shoulders dropping with relief. He lathered some soap and washed his groin and belly and then turned around and let the water work its magic on his neck and back. Finally he shut off the taps and stepped out, grabbing his towel and rubbing dry briskly before the heat dissipated.
No clean pyjamas. He bit his lip.
He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door, slapping off the light switch. He groped his way back – werewolves didn’t actually have handy night vision – and slipped into his bed. He wrestled the damp towel off and dropped it over the side. His houseguest could puzzle over that in the morning if he wished.
And on the issue of puzzles… There was something that tickled at the edge of his memory, something dancing out his mind’s reach every time he concentrated, striving to bring it kicking and screaming into conscious thought. He yawned. Ah, well, can’t be that important.
When he finally did remember, he was so close to sleep that it really didn’t seem significant that his giver of extraordinary dream blowjobs had not shaved for some time, and that the subsequent beard burn had only made the illusory experience better.
~~~^~~~
In the morning Remus was making toast when Severus appeared in the kitchen for breakfast. Remus’ impulse to cuddle the man confused the hell out of him. It was true that Severus was at this moment somewhat disabled, but Remus held no doubts about the man’s ability to flay him alive, with or without a wand, should Remus choose to lay affectionate hands on his person. Whatever had prompted his unconscious mind to suggest such an unspeakably foolhardy act?
Remus shook his head slightly in the vague hope that his errant impulses could be dislodged by that simple act of negation. He peered at Severus as the man buttered his toast; no sign of discomfort there – it was all on Remus’ side. Well, they had plenty to do today and perhaps keeping busy would help to push the odd thoughts out of his head.
They had arranged an expedition to Spinner’s End with Harry. Word was the place had been ransacked, but there were likely some artefacts and personal items of Severus’ that hadn’t been found by either the MLE or the remnants of Voldemort’s loyal followers. The law of averages was against all of Severus’ various methods of concealment failing. Personally, Remus would be happy just to recover Severus’ clothes. His own supply, already stretched thin covering him, would not cover Severus as well for much longer.
A confident knock sounded at the front door and Remus took a last gulp of tea before he rose to open it. They were expecting a small gathering, Harry having asked his friends to accompany them in the belief that there was indeed safety in numbers when it came to rummaging through a former Death Eater’s former abode. Harry had made some esoteric sort of peace with Severus; their accidental occlumentic duel had apparently erased Harry’s long cherished grudge against the potions master. Remus could only speculate on the revelatory nature of said duel, but he did conclude that Harry quite likely knew far more about Severus’ recent incarceration than Remus did.
He didn’t know how he felt about that. Perhaps he should press Harry for information.
He opened the door to reveal Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. And what exactly had Harry told his two friends to induce them to come to the aid of Severus Snape? He hated the idea that an ever-widening circle of people might know more about Severus’ recent experiences than he did.
“Hermione, Ron; it’s so good to see you!” he greeted them, receiving a nod from Ron and a broad smile from Hermione in answer.
“I’ve brought something that the Professor might find useful,” Hermione said. She took a small item out of her pocket and waved her wand quickly, causing the contraption to swell to its proper size.
Remus frowned down at it.
“It’s a wheelchair,” she explained patiently.
“I know what it is.” He kept his voice level – he was trying not to snap at her. Actually, it looked like a distinct improvement over the last version of wheeled chair he’d seen Severus using. In the absence of magic, muggles had become the most inventive technicians.
Hermione pushed the chair into the house; it glided easily over the threshold, moving without any discernable squeaks or creaks.
“I know it looks clumsy,” she said, “but it’s really very manoeuvrable, and the frame is quite lightweight.”
Ron moved up behind her and placed a supportive arm around her shoulders, as if to guard against any criticism Remus might make.
“It’s very thoughtful of you,” he managed, tamping down his irritation at having the device in his house; he was being irrational – this mode of transport was no doubt the practical choice for Severus if he was to accompany them to Spinner’s End today. “I’m sure Severus will find it extremely useful,” he finished, smiling at Hermione. “Come into the kitchen and have some tea. We’re just waiting on Harry and then we’ll head out.”
After a second’s hesitation Remus took hold of the wheelchair and pushed it after the two newcomers. I suppose he’ll need to test drive it.
His houseguest eyed the contraption with a sneer but nonetheless condescended to sit on it and try out the steering and brakes. After a muttered comment on the comparative usefulness of re-inventing the wheel yet again, he proceeded to punish the hall rug. In a mercifully short time, for the rug, Severus pronounced his grudging acceptance of Hermione’s gift, and the doorbell rang as if on cue.
Remus let Harry in with instructions to sit and have a cup of tea before they embarked on their trip. Remus needed to get his mind back to the task that lay ahead of them. He sat back down at the table, rubbing his forehead and trying not to let his eyes stray to Severus all the time. Remus couldn’t shake the feeling that Severus looked small in the wheelchair, and that it wasn’t right that Severus should look small of all things.
In the course of conversation it turned out that Hermione and Ron had been unaware that Harry was freelancing for the MLE.
“It’s a temporary arrangement, just until the Death Eaters are all processed. I’m not under any kind of binding contract or anything,” Harry asserted hastily.
If Remus knew Hermione, that was hardly likely to mollify her.
It didn’t.
“Who cares about contracts, temporary or otherwise? Harry, you can’t keep doing that kind of work, it’s immoral! Not to mention what it’s probably doing to you psychologically!” Hermione insisted.
“Cyclo what?” Ron asked.
Hermione slapped his shoulder without any real force. “Hush you!” She focussed on Harry once more.
“Harry, it’s not right. It just isn’t!”
She was voicing all the objections that Remus had wanted to shout out yesterday. He mentally cheered her on while looking closely at Harry’s reaction.
Severus was oddly silent, sipping another cup of tea and appearing quite above it all.
Harry looked down at the table, his fingers gripping his cup in the same manner his jaw muscles clenched at the corners of his face.
“I have my reasons for doing this and I just have to ask that you respect that,” the boy ground out.
“Okay, mate. Enough said,” Ron said quickly. Remus noticed his hand on Hermione’s shoulder tighten briefly, and she looked up at him with a frown, words jostling to get out of her mouth. He kissed her and managed through that time-honoured ploy to completely distract her from her target.
It appeared to operate as some kind of signal between them, since Remus observed Hermione visibly deflate and give her boyfriend a small smile before eyeing Harry with concern. Remus had the distinct impression that she was not finished by any means. He was relieved that Harry’s friends would be on the case soon, since he wasn’t sure how much influence he could bring to bear on the boy himself. It remained to be seen whether Remus’ position as a former DADA instructor would carry any weight with Harry.
An awkward silence reined, everyone having finished their tea, and he saw no reason not to break up the tense tableau straight away.
“Right then, I have made up a portkey to get Severus and myself to our destination, so we shall see you shortly. If you could Apparate from the lounge room the neighbours are less likely to hear you and assume there’s a gang war next door.”
Harry stood up immediately and headed out. Hermione paused on her way past and held his gaze. He smiled ruefully.
“I can’t tell him what to do, Hermione. He’s a grown man.” Despite the fact that I’m always thinking of him as a boy.
“I know, but–”
“Yes, I agree,” Remus interrupted, “Let me see if I can talk to him about it, find out why he’s doing this; there must be some compelling reason.”
“Thank you, Remus,” she breathed, and then led Ron out the door.
“See you there,” the redhead called.
Remus briefly wondered at Ron’s unflappable poise. When had he become such a steady personality?
“What complicated little lives you Gryffindors contrive for yourselves. Has the end of the war made existence so very dull for you all?”
Remus spun around; he’d forgotten Severus was still in the room, listening to all their tortured exchanges.
“Don’t you think there’s something strange going on with Harry?”
“There is. There always was.”
Remus’ laugh was short but genuine. “Severus, you are impossible!”
“I feel certain that I am. What of it?”
He smiled down at the man. “Just hold the bloody spoon,” he commanded, holding out the worn wooden implement. “Hurry – two seconds left!”
Severus grabbed hold of the proffered spoon and stared up at Remus. Was he smiling? So hard to tell at this angle – Remus suddenly wanted very much to add a levitation charm to the wheelchair.
Then his stomach was yanked inside out and they were on their way to Spinner’s End.