fic: A New Beginning Title: A New Beginning Author: drachenmina Word Count: 1,900 Rating: R Characters: Remus Lupin/Severus Snape, Summary: Non-magic AU. Just a little holiday-ficlet I jotted down on the plane. Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Beta-read by the inestimable blpaintchart *smooches* AN: For red_day_dawning *hugs*. Still sighing over those purple suede boots... ;D
Remus shifted restlessly in his seat for the umpteenth time, wondering how on Earth aeroplane travel could ever have been considered romantic and glamorous. He was getting heartily sick of all these delays. They’d been sitting in the plane, stationary on the tarmac, for over half an hour now, and the pilot had just announced they wouldn’t be going anywhere for another half hour at least. Remus smiled ruefully to himself as he recalled how his friends had been so adamant that taking a holiday would do him the world of good – so far, it had been one aggravation after another, what with the queues at the airport and the sheer claustrophobia of air travel these days.
It was the first time he’d been away since the divorce, and the first time he’d ever holidayed alone. He was on his way to an Alpine village on the shores of a picturesque lake – something about the wildness of the country, with its looming, forested mountains and sudden, harsh thunderstorms, had called to him irresistibly. He’d wanted to visit Austria for years, but Dora had always insisted they stay somewhere with a beach and rather more in the way of nightlife.
Remus shuddered as he remembered their last holiday in Ibiza. The marriage had already been rockier than the Alps he should, by now, have been gazing down at from the aeroplane window, and the holiday that had been meant to bring them back together had in fact been the final, catastrophic straw. Remus had hardly seen his wife – she’d spent her evenings in the local night-clubs without him, tarted up to the nines, and the days sleeping it off on the beach, waking occasionally to accuse him of eyeing up the waiters more than she did. Not, of course, without some grounds, Remus had to admit. They’d parted almost immediately on their return to England, to the accompaniment of a chorus of I told you it’d never last, in large part from the very people who’d previously encouraged Remus to ignore the age difference and told him he’d be mad to turn her down.
Remus was drawn back to the present by the sound of one of his fellow-passengers complaining loudly to a flight attendant in tones of the most withering sarcasm. Remus listened, feeling rather guilty for enjoying the caustically witty tirade of abuse, half of which he was quite certain went right over the head of its overly made-up target. The complainer, he could just see through a gap in the seats, was a man of Remus’ own age, tall and somewhat gaunt, with dark hair and clothes to match. Not unattractive, Remus thought, with an almost adolescent thrill at the thought that he was now entirely free to admire whomever he pleased. A rather, ahem, strong profile – but something about that face hinted at sensuality. Not, of course, that Remus was ever likely to get to know its owner, he thought with a sigh. Still, he could fantasise, and proceeded to do just that as the delays dragged on.
* * *
When they finally arrived at Salzburg’s tiny airport, Remus was relieved to see a board bearing his name held up by a swarthy young man who was evidently there to transport him to his hotel. There was another name on the board too – Snape. Remus barely had time to wonder what a Snape (or, perhaps, a family of Snapes?) might look like, before he and the driver were joined by the dark-haired man who had caught Remus’ interest on the plane. Remus smiled a welcome and held out his hand. “Looks like we’ll be holidaying together!” he beamed, introducing himself.
His new acquaintance looked at him appraisingly for a minute, before muttering “Snape,” and grasping his hand for the bare minimum of time required by politeness before letting it drop. Remus tried to mask his disappointment at such an unfriendly greeting as they climbed into the taxi.
The drive to the hotel took just over twenty minutes, during which time his companion condescended to utter approximately half so many words in reply to Remus’ conversational overtures, he was wryly amused to note. It was really rather late when they arrived at their hotel, and Remus was absolutely famished, so he was relieved when they were ushered straight through to the by-now deserted dining room, where the staff had laid on a hearty Abendbrot of cold meats, cheese and pickles. Snape glowered at the table that had been set for them, and disappeared for a few minutes, before sitting down opposite Remus with a disgruntled look. Perhaps he’d been complaining about not getting a table to himself, away from what he no doubt thought of as Remus’ irritating prattle. Well, he’d be safe tonight – Remus was feeling really too tired to bother making conversation when it was so clearly not wanted. Curiously, instead of cheering up, Snape seemed in an even worse mood after a meal spent in silence. Perhaps, after all, he was merely a little shy. Guiltily, Remus began to wish he’d made a bit more of an effort.
After they’d eaten, both arose to check into their rooms and, in Remus’ case at least, to retire for the night. However, there appeared to be some difficulty at the desk. After they’d filled in the usual forms, only one room key was produced, and handed with a flourish to Remus. “Warten Sie,” snapped Snape, as the woman wished them a “Gute Nacht” and turned to go, yawning. “Wo ist mein Schlüssel?” The woman broke into a stream of German that was far too fast for Remus to follow, and feeling that it was in any case probably none of his business, Remus started to head off to his room – but Snape called him back.
“Lupin – wait. These idiots have booked us into the same room – some mix-up with the tour company, they tell me, as if that were any excuse – and as they now inform me that the hotel is fully occupied, it seems we will have to share for tonight at least.”
Remus was a little taken aback. “Oh! Well, of course – if there’s really no other room available?”
Snape’s face, which had been like thunder to begin with, darkened considerably. “There is not,” he said with finality.
“Well, then, I suppose we’d better go up,” Remus felt compelled to say. When he’d idly fantasised on the plane about getting the man into bed, this hadn’t been at all what he’d envisaged.
* * *
The bed, thank goodness, turned out to be large, more resembling two singles pushed together than an English double bed. Remus suppressed a smile as Snape made a bee-line for the right-hand side. As he himself always preferred the side nearest the door, that suited him just fine. Snape fixed him with an icy glare. “If you snore, Lupin, I shall personally flay you alive. I have had enough to deal with today without disturbed rest.”
Remus smiled. “Well, that’s one thing my wife never complained about,” he told Snape cheerfully.
Snape looked at him sharply. “You are married?”
“Was,” Remus told him easily. “Divorced now, I’m afraid. Weren’t as compatible as we’d hoped.”
Snape frowned. “I see.”
Remus wished he did. Why on Earth should Snape be so bothered about Remus being married? Ah well, it hardly mattered, and Remus was far too tired to think about it any more. He prepared to settle down for the night – and found himself in a bit of a quandary. Normally he slept without a stitch on – but that didn’t seem entirely appropriate when sharing a bed with a stranger. He decided in the end to simply keep his boxer shorts on – fortunately he had a decent pair on tonight, some that Dora had bought him in a doomed effort to make him seem a little younger and trendier. Remus amused himself guessing what his companion might wear to bed. An old-fashioned nightshirt, perhaps – or flannel pyjamas buttoned up to the neck and tied securely at the waist? His jaw dropped slightly when Snape simply stripped off his clothes and climbed naked into bed.
Nude, the man was surprisingly attractive – wiry rather than skinny, and the dark hair on his chest and, yes, at his groin made Remus suddenly wish he’d thought to provide himself with a glass of water at his bedside. Getting up for one now was completely out of the question, however. Remus determinedly switched off the light and lay down, wishing he could switch off his body’s unwanted reaction so easily. Luckily fatigue came to his aid and he fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
When Remus awoke, his first thought was that Dora was being unusually affectionate this morning. Pleasantly surprised, Remus was already snuggling closer into her embrace before he remembered with a jolt that they had parted and he was, in fact, in bed with a man he hardly knew. And whose erection, he further realised, was digging rather insistently into Remus’ left buttock. Torn between his desire to extricate himself from what was, on the part of his bedmate, undoubtedly an entirely unconscious embrace, and his selfish wish to enjoy it while it lasted, Remus found himself paralysed with indecision – and then electrified as a hand crept round to fondle his nipple. Surely by now, at least, his companion must be aware that he was sharing a bed with another man? Remus moaned involuntarily as that erection pressed more firmly into his arse, suddenly very guiltily aware that he didn’t much care if his bedmate knew what he was doing or not. He pushed back against Snape’s groin experimentally, and was rewarded by the hand leaving his chest and creeping down into his boxers… oh, his companion was most definitely aware he was with a man, as he started to stroke Remus’ far-too-neglected cock in just the way it liked. The stiff prick behind him was building up a most delicious rhythm too, and Remus had half a mind to roll over and mention that a fuck was most definitely not out of the question, when the prick’s owner stiffened and grunted, and Remus felt hot spurts shooting up his back.
Although the hand stroking him had faltered in its rhythm for a few moments, it soon redoubled its efforts and groaning, Remus came too, pulsing out his orgasm onto the sheets with the sort of joyous abandon Dora had never managed to coax from him. Coming blissfully down from his high, Remus was aware of tender kisses being planted on his neck and shoulders, and a voice saying, “So, not so straight as all that, then?”
Remus turned and smiled. “I could have told you that, you know.”
His companion snorted. “It would have saved a great deal of bother and expense if you had. Have you any idea how much it cost to bribe the receptionist into pretending they’d double-booked us?”
Remus laughed, feeling better than he had done since the divorce – indeed, better than any time since his disastrous marriage, if truth were told. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to make it up to you,” he replied, grinning.