psyfic (psyfic) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2009-06-03 22:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | #lmom 2009, author: odogoddess, kink: adultery, remus/severus |
LMoM(final)#34 (1 of 2) by odogoddess - 'But of all these friends and lovers...'
Title: 'But of all these friends and lovers...'
Author: psyfic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Remus/Severus
Kink(s): adultery
Challenge: Lusty Month of May 2009
Word count: 3,980
Author's note: First of all, it's storming here and I am at an internet cafe as the power kept flickering at home and seems to have killed the router, so also no internet at home. I tell you all this, because I really wanted to post both parts of this story together, but as the second half of this is almost, but not quite done and will need beta, it won't be posted straight away. Plus, they're going to kick everyone out of here in about half an hour!
So I'm posting this first half (which stands on its own) before they kick me out of here. So at least you should have this half for the night. The rest will get up when it's done and/or I can get access again, which may not be until tomorrow some time unless the router is working again back home, for which delay I apologize.
That said, I want to give HUGE thanks & apologies go to my beloved chazpure who not only helped w/beta this month, but put up w/my temper on those days I was too fatigued or ill to write, yet forced myself so to do. I can do it, but I'm no fun to be around, as one might imagine.
If you are reading this for the first time, please go to the first entry and start reading there. Otherwise, this saga may not make any sense at all. Thanks!
28 May 1997
RJL here.
Dear Merlin... Snape did it.
Snape killed Albus Dumbledore.
He did it in front of Harry, and he did it at the school.
For all the precautions Dumbledore took, the one he could not foresee was this bitter betrayal.
I almost cannot believe it.
I remember the boy. I remember the year I taught when we were lovers.
The boy who taught me about myself. The man who was the most passionate, tenderest lover I have ever known... a murderer?
I cannot reconcile these facts and yet they exist.
Then there is Dora. I do not know what to do. She, and everyone else, seems to expect we will marry and go on as we are, but I do not know if I can tolerate the thought of a lifetime of monthly fucks for the mere sake of release.
She is kind enough, but we have nothing in common. She is bright, personable, possessing good humour and cheer and yet I find I cannot stomach these very qualities that others would praise. Perhaps it is the dark creature in me. It seeks darkness and derisiveness and dour ill humours, perhaps. Those certainly personified the face Severus Snape showed the world. I am one of the few, perhaps the only one, since Lily, who was ever allowed to see the other side of him.
Perhaps this is why this duplicity, this foul, most cunning cruelty strikes me so very hard.
In a far less critical vein, there appears to be something wrong with my journal.
I am not one for introspection, so I rarely read back on my entries, but when I attempted to find the entries related to my undertaking this ill-fated werewolf venture, I found several blank pages. The entries that would comprise July and August of last year are missing or perhaps shrouded is a better term, as the pages appear to be blurred when I attempt to read them.
I conducted various tests, used various revealing spells, but nothing countered the effect. I hope this remains limited to those two months. I would hate to find other entries disappearing.
When I can afford it, I will obtain a new journal.
31 May 1997
RJL here.
The great man has been laid to rest with honours.
I am drained, although how much of that is from the funeral and how much is from responding to well-intentioned people enquiring as to Tonks and my relationship is anyone's guess.
Since we are all gathered close by, Kingsley and Minerva are calling for an order meeting. Tomorrow we meet at Grimmauld.
Journal of Severus Snape.
I dared not attend, neither funeral nor the on-going celebration at Riddle mansion.
Death Eaters are fools, none more than I.
Since the day I carried out my task, there has been a veritable bacchanal amongst them. Bella conjured the surroundings, then bid MacNair and some others to 'bring wine and victuals' which meant their attacking a small Muggle village and ransacking the local greengrocer, baker and vintner.
Already bold, they grow bloated in their excess with this situation, and I am grown ill with the thought of how I engendered it.
My only comfort is to be firmly in the Dark Lord's favour. I requested no boons and was thus even further elevated as an example to the rest who are bending over backward to ingratiate themselves and bask in his good humour.
I told him I was concerned about my status as a wanted criminal and he told me not to be concerned. I am to remain at my home until he summons me.
Narcissa spoke to me privately and of her I did request a boon of her gratitude. A vow for a vow. She is now the Secret Keeper to the existence of my home. So even should the worst come to pass, I might live quietly, undisturbed and largely ignored by my few Muggle neighbours.
She further made me a gift of a transfer of galleons, the sum of which is staggering, and which I was not allowed to refuse. She told me her son was worth more than every galleon she had in possession, and this was but a fraction of what she could have gifted, but felt I might refuse a more generous amount.
I wrote to my account manager at Gringott's and requested the transfer be exchanged for Muggle currency and sent to my account via the local postmistress, less whatever fees they charge for such a service. Unfortunately, I had to Obliviate the postmistress after I retrieved my funds; her normally unobtrusive nature had been quite overcome by the certainty I had won the Irish lottery.
1 June 1997
RJL here.
The Ministry is in chaos.
Kingsley informed us there is a great deal of political manoeuvring afoot and worse, there was 'doubt expressed at the highest levels' about Harry's version of events regarding Dumbledore's death. The Aurors and the Prophet interviewed every 'witness' they could muster, but the most damning evidence came from a well-respected source: Madam Rosmerta of Hogsmeade.
She was one of the last people who saw Dumbledore alive and in the company of Harry Potter. She testified before an emergency session of the Wizengamot that on the night of his death, Dumbledore was seriously ill and injured, and that Harry was in highly excitable, almost frantic state. They both flew to the school, toward the Dark Mark that could be seen from Hogsmeade, using brooms she provided.
There was speculation that some other Death Eater killed the Headmaster as he circled the school grounds and that is why he ended up falling from such a great height. Harry's version of events, as relayed via Minerva and Kingsley, was found to be lacking in credibility due to the fact the Killing Curse does not hurl people through the air as he described. There was an an extraordinary demonstration made by Alastor Moody using an Accio'd rat.
The fact Dumbledore purportedly insisted on Harry bringing Snape was dismissed. The general belief is that Harry was, indeed, there, but that he was in a suggestible state due to his excitement. In other words, he saw what he wanted to see. His intense dislike for Snape was testified to by Minerva, a most reluctant witness, and oddly, Pansy Parkinson, whose father sits on the Wizengamot and who was a much more enthusiastic witness, as might be expected.
Poppy Pomfrey testified there is no way to determine if a person was killed via the Killing Curse, and that yes, the body of Albus Dumbledore did have traces of dark magic, but then he had been cursed nearly a year prior to his death and it was possible that is what the readings were indicating.
With such uncertainty, with such conflicting reports and evidence given, the finding of death by misadventure in the matter of Albus Dumbledore, was not surprising.
The fact Snape has been missing since that night was little remarked on, and again, a reluctant Minerva conceded it was possible he was afraid for his safety and merely awaiting the truth to unfold and allow his return.
The Order is now being run by Minerva and Kingsley, with no argument from any quarter. Preliminary plans were made to retrieve Harry before his birthday. Once he comes of age, the protections at his Muggle relatives home will fail.
Until that day, I was given the task of watching Grimmauld from the nearby Park. I am to alert the Order if any Death Eaters turn up.
Tonks was to be kept busy at her job, for which I was pathetically grateful, however, we were asked, point-blank when we planned to marry.
'We are currently gathered now. The circumstances may not allow it in future,' Minerva pointed out. 'Kingsley has the capacity to conduct the ceremony and as I am currently de facto Headmistress, I can either conduct it or allow the use of the grounds for it.'
'That's very kind, Minerva, but we haven't really discussed--'
'That's wonderful. I don't think we need to discuss it, do we?' Tonks pointed out. 'How long is everyone going to be available? I'd like my parents there, if possible.'
And so I was affianced.
We are to be wed at Solstice. One day after the full moon.
My only solace is I will likely be too incapacitated to be expected to perform my husbandly duties.
It is all I can think about as I conduct my observation of Grimmauld.
I wonder if all prospective grooms feel the same fearful misgivings and deepening dread.
17 June 1997
RJL here.
Kingsley dropped by to see me at the park. He was rather cleverly disguised as a religious proselytiser, complete with tracts and colourful robes of burnt orange. He appeared to accost me for discussion, thrusting a tract in my hand.
'Consider it my wedding gift,' he said quietly, then boomed, 'Joy can only be found in the quiet places! True joy is in the heart, not the pocketbook!'
He clapped a hand to my shoulder and moved off into the bushes before Disapparating. The few Muggles around had moved away from him and were trying not to make eye contact, so they never noticed.
The note read: Wolfsbane will be delivered tonight and through the full moon.
So I have no excuse now for not bedding my bride.
I began to pace, watching Grimmauld, and trying to recall the various 'marital charms' about which Professor Flitwick once gave his NEWT level students a private lecture.
21 June 1997
Journal of Severus Snape.
I am to be given a rare gift.
The school board will be electing me as Headmaster, during their regular quarterly meeting, a few days before term is to start. No one else has been told.
The Dark Lord assured me the position was given solely on my merits, however, I am quite certain Malfoy money and Death Eater influence paid a large part.
The thought of being able to freely go about Diagon and Hogsmeade, of being able to work, was, however, dimmed by the announcement in this mornings Daily Prophet.
Remus is marrying the Tonks chit.
18 July 1997
RJL here.
I wonder if other men can say they did not fully and successfully consummate their marriage until almost a month after the ceremony?
Dora attributed my miserably humiliating effort to wedding nerves and Wolfsbane. Fortunately we have been kept too busy to make other attempts and I watch Grimmauld for 19 hours each day, leaving off only enough to get sleep. Mundungus spells me, but I make certain he is only there from an hour after midnight until five in the morning. It is the only time I allot for sleep, not that I need much, thanks to lycanthropy.
Except last night. It is to my folly that I succumbed to what was easy and desirable as the monthly urges built, and bedded Dora until she begged me for rest. So I patrol today without having slept, but I barely feel the need. I am itchy with lust and driven by intense hunger.
Despite having fucked my wife, I found no satiation, merely momentary release.
I am not shamed to admit I plan to fuck her again tonight.
She is available. I have need. There is nothing more to it than that.
I am ashamed to admit I do not care if she does not wish such attentions.
21 July 1997
Journal of Severus Snape.
'Dung' Fletcher's sole virtue is his predictability.
The promise of a magnum of wine afforded me the knowledge that the Order is watching headquarters, that he and Lupin are assigned to the task and that they plan to ferret Potter from his home before his birthday. I told him I had word the Floo and all Ministry-monitored means of transport was being watched and that it might be best to use other means to move him, preferably disguised.
Then I modified the fool's memory.
Decent elf-made wine is worth far more than a dollop of information any halfway intelligent person might not determine with but a bit of careful thought and logical deductions.
27 July 1997
Journal of Severus Snape.
It could all have been far worse. That is the only consolation of the total cock-up both Order and my hooded compatriots made of the night's efforts.
That and having been able to save Remus.
I grievously injured one of the Weasley boys, but in the light of seeing him escape from the Killing Curse, I find I do not care.
Given the circumstances, and the fact the Order is far too busy being concerned with Potter, to be overly concerned with their headquarters, I make haste to Grimmauld.
There is ought I must attend.
28 July 1997
RJL here.
Now I am a murderer, as well as an adulterer.
I have never been so joyful or so miserable in my entire life. I must marshal my thoughts to explain these circumstances.
Last night, after Bill & I sought, but did not find poor Alastor's body, Bill returned to the Burrow. I told him I wanted to return to Grimmauld, as it had been unwatched during this time.
There was a light from an upper room when I arrived, and I made my way in, using the stealth charms Kingsley had taught us.
Dear Alastor's booby-traps, set specifically against Snape and not removed despite the findings of the Wizengamot, had been sprung and silenced. So... Snape was there.
I made my way upstairs and heard a peculiar sound. It made my stomach clench and I tightened my fist around my wand.
As I drew closer to the door of what was Sirius's room, I could hear it more clearly. Snape was weeping.
What could have accomplished this? I struggled to recall Moody's various gambits, but he had not mentioned any kind of Confundus or Lamentation spells.
I eased the door open with wand ready.
It would not have mattered if I'd flung it open. Snape could not see me, nor would he have been able to defend.
He was on his knees, holding a parchment in his hands.
Tears were running down his cheeks and he ripped the paper in two. There was a flash of movement, of colour, and I realised he also held a photograph, which he also ripped in two and flung the pieces under a chest of drawers before lurching to his feet. I pushed the door open all the way and stood ready.
He froze when he saw me, seeming stunned.
'Remus...'
This gave me pause. In all our years of acquaintance, even during the year I taught, he rarely called me by name. Lupin, only, never by my given name or any diminutive or other term of affection.
It sounded good and natural coming from his pale, damp lips.
'Expelliarmus.' I caught his wand, but he had made no move for it. He merely stared at me, before flushing brick red and swiping at his face with a shaking hand.
'I'm here alone,' he volunteered. I merely nodded. Then, even more oddly, he said, 'It's good to see you.'
At those words, he put his head down and closed his eyes. He was crying again, and I was deeply moved, but also as deeply puzzled. What could be affecting him so?
'Accio paper & photo!'
He gasped as I flicked my wand, even as the items wormed out of his pocket and flew to me.
'Incarcerous.' I shrugged apologetically. 'Just until I read this, you see.'
I looked at the photo. It was of Lily, laughing. It had been taken in the Hollow, at their home.
I then read the scrap of paper:
could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind's going, personally! Lots of love, Lily