Fic: And Sometimes Darkness, part 10, 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: 2,747
10. Cooking the Books
Remus blinked as he groped for his house keys. There was no helping the constant slight swaying of his body; he was bone tired. He hadn’t been this tired since the war. Instead of catching a nap yesterday he’d been rummaging through Severus’ former home and then rearranging what little furniture he had to accommodate Severus’ books.
Severus had been done in by teatime. They had both eaten early before Remus went to work his night shift, and Severus’ hands had been shaking so badly that Remus wasn’t surprised when he’d retired straight after dinner. He’d been almost certain that Severus would sleep the night through and not be anxious in his absence, so he’d been surprised to have the phone handed over to him by his offsider at about 2am.
He replayed the conversation from four hours ago in his mind while he grappled with the task of unlocking his front door.
“Bloke asking for you. Won’t say his name.”
Since no one else of his acquaintance had his number, he knew who it was without asking.
“Hello, Severus. I’m sorry you woke up – I thought you’d still be sound asleep when I got home, it was such a long day,” he spoke evenly into the receiver. There was no response but the breathing he could hear seemed to slow down slightly.
“It’s another thrilling night, I’m excited to say; I found a piece of old chewing gum under the desk here and I’ve been fully occupied for the past two hours using it to sculpt a rather decent copy of Michelangelo’s Pieta.”
There was a soft snort, almost a laugh, and after a few more even paced breaths, the phone disconnected. He smiled at the receiver as he replaced it on the desk.
Remus finally got the key to properly align with the lock and almost fell through the door with relief. Home!
“Good morning,” his houseguest said in greeting.
“It’ll be even better when I’m horizontal,” Remus responded quickly before he lost the power of speech to an enormous yawn.
“You overdid it yesterday; you should have rested before going to work,” Severus said in mild rebuke.
“I’m okay, just need sleep, then I’ll be fine. Is that tea?” Remus asked, finally registering Severus’ hand holding a large, chipped mug. Wordlessly, Severus held it out to him then reversed the wheelchair back into the kitchen – the room where most of their important conversations seemed to take place.
“Did you get back to sleep?” Remus asked around another jaw-cracking yawn.
“Eventually. How did your sculpture turn out?”
Unbelievable. The man was actually showing genuine amusement. There, the corner of his mouth on that side – a full two millimetres higher.
“Protester smashed it to make a statement,” Remus supplied.
“Ah. Politics.” Severus nodded in sage understanding.
Remus smiled and finished his mug of tea. “Right, I’m off for a kip,” he said, rising from the kitchen chair.
“I’ll wake you at lunchtime,” Severus said, twirling the wheelchair neatly out of the kitchen.
Remus realised his enchanted flying chair must have run out of juice.
Or maybe he prefers a device without such a personal link to me, he mused as he stripped off boots and trousers. He fell backwards onto the bed, deciding that removing his uniform shirt and tie was going to be far too much trouble.
He heard himself snoring before he’d even lost consciousness.
~~~^~~~
The smell woke him. It was a nauseating blend of aged socks, doxy droppings, and vomit. He blinked and stumbled off the bed.
“Severus!” he called, walking into the doorframe. “Ouch.”
“I was on my way to wake you,” Severus said, wheeling into view.
He wasn’t fully awake, and he blamed that fact later for what he said next.
“Why are you still using that blasted thing anyway?”
“What?”
“That fucking wheelchair!”
“Would you rather I crawl?” Severus asked dryly.
And that really should have set the alarm bells ringing, but Remus was tired, and confused, and off balance in a multitude of ways.
“I want you… t-to… I w-would rather,” he stuttered and fell silent, no longer knowing what he was saying, and deeply suspicious of the first three words he’d uttered.
“Make up your bloody mind, Lupin,” Severus hissed and retreated down the hallway after a neat, wheeled pirouette. “I made lunch,” Severus added over his shoulder.
“You’ve made the Wolfsbane Potion!” he shouted, suddenly remembering the real reason for his uneasiness. He hurried after Severus, entering a kitchen filled with noxious fumes. “Why are you doing this? How are you doing this?” he demanded.
“Miss Granger was kind enough to procure the ingredients for me once I explained my plight to her. She delivered them this morning while you were asleep,” came the even reply.
“But, you need a wand to brew,” Remus began, and then groaned when he realised that Severus still had his wand from yesterday. He always left it at home when he was at work. As if to illustrate this fact Severus turned to him and twirled the item in his fingers; long, dexterous, taunting fingers.
“Bastard,” Remus snarled, but the heat was going out of him.
“I don’t understand why you’re so vexed, Lupin – I’m doing this for you,” Severus commented.
The phrasing echoed Harry’s from the day before so perfectly that Remus wondered whether Severus had overheard their conversation somehow.
Severus had turned back to the stove, which held Remus’ large stockpot, now belching a cloud of green smoke.
I wonder if that will set off the smoke alarm?
“The thing is,” Remus coughed and continued, “you didn’t ask me first. And that really annoys the hell out of me.” His eyes watered, and his nose was starting to leak. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your time and effort, really I do!” He hacked up a large gobbit of something and groped unsuccessfully for the handkerchief in his trouser pocket, and thus realised that he’d been standing in the kitchen in a very sad pair of boxers, an equally sad pair of socks, and his shirt and tie.
Severus peered through the murk at him. “You’d better leave the room – it’s a not in a benign state for werewolves right now. I left sandwiches in the lounge room with a pot of tea.”
Remus nodded and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. He hacked and teared and sniffed over the hand basin for a few minutes and then made his way to the promised lunch; he was ravenous and not even the Wolfsbane brewing in his house could dispel his appetite.
He settled in on the sofa with the plate of sandwiches on his lap and a mug of tea in one hand. In a very short time he had emptied both, and he tipped his head back against the sofa cushion with a sigh of satisfaction. He wondered if Hermione’s so-called potions supplies had included the sliced roast beef he’d just eaten, because he certainly didn’t remember buying it. Then he frowned, wondering how Severus had paid for all the supplies, with or without roast beef. Like a proverbial Muggle light bulb, the answer flared to life in his mind. He opened his eyes and laughed quietly.
The books, the bloody books!
The bloody man had either sold some via Hermione, or he’d stashed some well-hidden galleons within them. This explanation also covered the strangely protective attitude that Severus had displayed for the very first books he’d retrieved. Remus was still smiling gently when Severus joined him in the lounge room.
Severus stopped the wheelchair abruptly at the doorway. “What are you grinning about?” he asked with narrowed eyes.
“Can’t I simply be in a good mood?” Remus responded mildly.
An elegantly arched eyebrow greeted that explanation. Severus wheeled slowly towards the armchair and he heaved himself awkwardly onto it. Remus watched him as the tension seemed to flow out of his frame and he heaved a great sigh.
“How goes the potion then?” Remus ventured to ask.
“Not my best, but then the equipment is somewhat primitive,” Severus sniffed, eyes closed and head resting against the high back of the chair. “However, it will serve adequately.”
Remus smiled, enjoying the pissy tone that he’d missed for so long. Merlin, how could I have missed such an annoying, conceited fuckup? One of life’s mysteries to be sure.
“You’re staring at me.”
Just how Severus could tell he’d been doing that when his own eyes had been closed… Well, it was unnerving.
“You look tired.” It was an indirect but honest response. Severus’ face looked pale and drawn. More pale and drawn than he had this morning at any rate.
“I ache.”
“You’re out of practice.”
“I am indeed.”
“And you have the added physical challenge of doing your potion making from a reduced height.”
It was a pointed observation. Remus held his breath waiting for Severus’ reaction. The dark eyes opened and regarded him coolly.
“Why didn’t you use my levitating chair, it would have been easier.”
“You must know something about dependence on others by now, Lupin.”
Remus twitched slightly. “Yes, you have me there, Severus.”
He looked Severus over closely; he would be in danger of falling asleep if he stayed in the chair any longer.
“Come to the bedroom,” he said softly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I was suggesting that you go to the bedroom and lie down rather than get a bad neck falling asleep where you are, that’s all!”
“I thought that was rather direct for you,” Severus muttered. Heaving another sigh, he made to lift himself back onto the wheelchair.
“Let me help,” Remus said, and rising from the sofa he placed a hand under Severus’ bottom then lifted and swivelled until he had Severus safely seated once more.
“The potion needs to stay on low heat until six o’clock. I suggest opening a window,” Severus said before turning the wheelchair quickly and heading out of the room.
“Right.” It was on the tip of his Remus’ toungue ask Severus if he needed any help, but Severus had avoided his gaze and his suggestion about the window was as good as a dismissal. Was he embarrassed, or did he find Remus’ touch repulsive?
Remus sighed and went to set the kitchen timer for the potion. Wandering back into the lounge room he couldn’t decide what to do. He felt a lingering fatigue and would have gone back to bed if Severus hadn’t beat him to it. If he went to bed now he would be crowding Severus – he wanted him to feel comfortable and that meant giving him space when he needed it.
Remus’ gaze fell on the small picture he had picked up from Spinner’s End; it showed a very young Severus in a much too formal pose, along with a striking dark-haired woman and a thickset older man. The woman stared coldly out of the frame at him, disapproval more than evident on her face. The man seemed unable to focus on him, but he bore an air of general belligerence. The small Severus looked grave and serious, and now and again his eyes flicked towards his father with a trace of fear.
His own childhood had of course been less than ideal, but he couldn’t help the twinge in his chest at the thought of what Severus must have experienced as a child of those two people. He fingered the frame lightly. It seemed strange that Severus had allowed him to place the picture on the mantle, hadn’t even voiced an objection to its presence or to Remus’ pilfering of the picture from his home. Remus hadn’t examined his own actions at all, he just knew that he wanted Severus to feel at home here, and home to him meant having pictures of those he cared about around him. Severus might not have cared overmuch for his parents, but in the absence of anything else, their portrait would serve for now.
Remus turned away from the mantle, yawning and swaying slightly on his feet. He really needed a nap.
“The sofa it is then,” he murmured to himself then stretched out along its length, feet dangling. And at least this time he remembered to take off his tie.
~~~^~~~
Remus smiled. The heat from the late afternoon sun was on his face, the deep orange glowing through his eyelids. Someone was telling him to wake up, but he just smiled in the direction of the voice. He heard a deep, gentle laugh and his hammock swung wildly for moment then a warm, solid weight settled on top of his body. This time he knew beyond any doubt that it was male.
He clutched the thinly muscled buttocks greedily, pulling the man’s groin tightly against his own, sighing at the sensation. A wide, firm mouth found his; teeth rasped delicately against his bottom lip. He opened his mouth to a warm, questing tongue that tasted of whiskey. Long moments of languid kissing followed and finally he took a deep breath and said I love you.
He opened his eyes…
“How on Earth can you sleep so deeply on that thing?”
…and found a pair of black eyes staring intently at him.
“Wuh?”
“Eloquence is not an affliction you ever have to fear, Lupin.”
Remus struggled to an upright position, encountering various cricks and twinges as he did so; no, the sofa was not a good place to sleep.
“I was tired,” he explained feebly, rubbing a hand over his face and wondering where his beautiful, fading vision had gone. He ached inside as much as outside with the loss of his phantom lover; that deep-voiced, sexy, sinewy, knowing lover.
He snatched his hand down and stared at Severus, who was wheeling out of the room. No!
“I’m making a pot of tea. What’s for dinner?”
“Wolfsbane Potion, I thought,” Remus muttered, his head swimming with realisation. For Merlin’s sake I can’t let him suspect what I’ve been dreaming about, he thought with a touch of panic.
He followed Severus into the kitchen where the potion was still on the hotplate in a barely perceptible simmer. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly fragrant with essence of fresh summer flowers but it was manageable enough, and no doubt Severus didn’t even notice the smell after some of the toxic mixtures he’d brewed over the years.
Remus dodged around Severus and took two cups from the dish rack, then snagged the milk from the fridge on his way to the table. On reflection he decided sugar would be a necessary evil – he still felt tired and sluggish. He got the packet down from the cupboard and left it with the other supplies.
“I’ll just have a quick shower while the tea’s brewing,” he announced. He’d now been wearing the same clothes for twenty-four hours and he could smell himself.
Severus grunted his acknowledgement and poured water from the kettle into the large teapot.
When Remus had the shower beating down on his body he allowed himself to remember his dream in more detail. Details that had been obscured were now crystal clear, and he could no longer deny the truth. His long dormant attraction to men had resurfaced, and the object of his desire was Severus Snape.
But he’s only been here a week! he protested to himself. And why the sudden attraction after all these years?
He’d always been a little fascinated with Severus Snape, but the transformation from mild interest to distinctly erotic attraction came as a shock. Though, perhaps not an unwelcome one. His eyes lost their focus as he envisioned a possible future with Severus as his lover. Though Severus seemed to care to some extent about Remus, could Severus be happy with another man?
He’s vulnerable right now – not himself, still insecure. It will need time before I even ask him about it.
This observation – so obvious and undeniable – ended Remus’ inner argument. He felt an enormous sense of relief tempered with a touch of frustration. The relief came from the thought that he wouldn’t have to find a way to approach Severus for now, that would be a job undertaken much later. As for the frustration, well, looking down he could see immediate evidence of just what kind of frustration he was suffering from. He sighed and gripped it in one sudsy hand – he’d better hurry or the tea would be cold.