red_day_dawning (red_day_dawning) wrote in snape_obsessed, @ 2008-01-25 22:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | author: red_day_dawning, nc-17, severus/remus |
Fic: NC-17 "Youth is a Disease from which we may recover" ss/rl
Title: Youth is a disease from which we may recover.
Author: red_day_dawning
Prompt: “Youth is a disease from which we all recover.”
Characters: Severus Snape; Remus Lupin; Charlie Weasley
Pairing: Snape/Lupin
Rating: NC-17
Warning/s: oral sex in the shower
Word count: ~3,850
Disclaimer: JKR owns all
Author’s notes: Intended for the birthday prompt for Snape’s birthday at lupin_snape, this story raced along, sadly ran out of stamina & then took its own sweet time to conclude… I had planned to give Severus the perfect birthday present – a new life and Remus Lupin! Alas!
Inkgeist beta-read and extensively helped me - I am grateful for Inkgeist’s time and generous assistance. My thanks to Inkgeist. Any mistakes are my own.
Happy belated birthday, Severus Snape.
“Youth is a disease from which we all recover.” ~ Dorothy Fulheim
Severus never thought he could recover from the disease of youth; the mistakes he’d made should have been more damning than the killing curse. He had never imagined living long after most of those he had hated were rotting in the grave, and all that he’d cared for were gone. If anything he never expected to survive him. He shook his head as if ward off the memories and prepared to face another birthday alone – finding an odd sense of justice that the mistakes of his youth continued to curse him.
~*~
In some ways, Severus found it wasn’t too difficult to adjust to living in a new country. Aside from the peculiar drawling accents spoken around him, life in Australia was not so different from life in England. And at least here they spoke a version of English, in a manner of speaking.
Each time he went to Hardware Lane, the wizarding business district in the city, to purchase potions’ ingredients or to browse through the Wizarding bookshop, the differences struck him anew. Certain ingredients he thought of as exotic and expensive, were cheap and readily available in Bush and Branch. Other ingredients so commonplace they were grown in almost every wizarding household in Britain were here expensive and sometimes less-than-fresh. He learned to use locally grown and indigenous substitutes, although this required far greater concentration while brewing than he was accustomed to. Substituting ingredients meant adjusting and accounting for all possible reactions and interactions, not just the desired effects.
Mulling over the choices available to him today in Bush and Branch, and the most efficacious ways of using and combining them, Snape was oblivious to the presence of others around him. He almost knocked into the man at the counter, conversing with the proprietor Mr. Branch in low tones. Concentrating on not dropping his measure of crumbled Ti-tree bark, he might not have paid any attention, had he not heard a loud intake of breath, a shocked gasp.
“Snape,” the man whispered.
Rapidly collecting his wits, Severus inclined his head a little and then smoothly said: “Mr.Weasley, this is an unexpected meeting.”
“Yes,” breathed Charlie.
“What brings you to the Antipodes, Mr Weasley?”
“Er, order business,” stammered Charlie.
“Order business?” Severus repeated, automatically falling back to his role of teacher and raising an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that the Order had any connections in Australia.”
“Just, er, tying up loose ends, sir.”
Severus smirked. He would wait all day and stared at the eldest Weasley steadily without blinking. As he’d expected, the silence began to wear upon Charlie. “This is, more of a personal business for the Order. Doing some one a favour, you might say.”
“Really?”
“Er, yes, something I’m doing for Professor McGonagall. An Order favour.”
“An Order favor for Minerva. How intriguing.”
“Yes, um, yeah.”
“You seem less surprised to see me than I might have anticipated, Mr. Weasley,” Severus queried, his face now stone cold.
Visibly flustered, Charlie stammered, “Professor McGonagall warned me, that is, she informed me you were still alive and living in Australia.”
“Did she?” Severus was aware that some of the Order knew he was alive, and had fought for his “posthumous” pardon, but that didn’t explain why any of them would come to Australia.
“Yes, I think she thought it best that I know, so that I could… so that… it wouldn’t be a shock.”
“How considerate.”
“Um, yeah.”
Severus stood silently, assessing the Weasley boy. Why had he come here? And what was he doing in this shop? Charlie Weasley was hardly a competent potions-brewer. Did it have something to do with Severus himself? Did the ‘Order favor’ have anything to do with him?
He turned back to Mr. Branch, completing his order for potions materials. Transaction finished, he again studied Charlie, “There is a quite decent Vietnamese restaurant run by a wizarding family nearby. You will join me for lunch, of course.”
Charlie looked briefly surprised, then nodded his assent for the sake of appearances; it had not been a request. He looked at the proprietor, and back at Severus.
“I shall wait for you to finish your business here, of course” Severus said, gesturing towards the door. As he moved away, he could hear Charlie whisper to Mr. Branch, but couldn’t make out the words. Safely stationed by the door, he turned his attention back to the men whispering. By watching carefully, and lip-reading, he thought Charlie was requesting a specially brewed potion, and the proprietor was protesting or explaining some difficulty.
~*~
Severus kept the conversation light as they ate their meal. He had hoped that by getting him to relax, Charlie might inadvertently let something slip. Severus quickly discovered that while Charlie lacked guile, the boy was by no means stupid. Severus would have to be patient, or develop some better strategy. So he listened to Charlie rattle on about their shared acquaintances, finding the conversation surprisingly enjoyable.
“What of Lupin’s young son?” he finally asked nonchalantly. To his surprise Charlie’s face closed, becoming hard and unreadable. He watched him fiddle with the remnants of the rice paper rolls, and then softly asked “Charlie, is all well with the boy?”
“Yes, he’s well enough. A sweet baby. Um, Mum and Andromeda share in his care now.”
“Molly? I suppose that’s not really surprising. She has quite a soft spot for children.”
“Yes,” said Charlie tersely. Sighing, he looked up at Severus directly. “And he is her first grandchild.”
Severus stared at Charlie without understanding. “First grandchild? Oh. Oh. I suppose that explains Lupin’s apparent lack of joy at the thought of parenthood “Yes.” Not Lupin’s child, he thought – did that mean…?
“Your child?”
“Bill’s.”
“That might be rather difficult,” Severus said delicately.
“Difficult? It’s a fucking mess.” Running his hand through his cropped hair, Charlie added, “Sorry. Not your fault. It’s just, well, Bill and Fleur are expecting their first child, and let’s just say Fleur is not happy. And Dad is furious – not because of Teddy, he loves Teddy, but because he feels Bill has behaved badly towards Fleur. I would’ve thought Mum would have been the angrier, but once she calmed down, she just focused on the practicalities: Teddy’s care; Fleur’s health during the pregnancy.”
Severus nodded, speechless. His heart was pounding so loud, he couldn’t seem to focus his thoughts. Lupin. Lupin wasn’t the father. Could that mean…? When he thought he might be capable of speech, he softly said, “So, Lupin and Tonks weren’t , ah…”
“Turns out Lupin was just doing her a favor. Seems Tonks thought she’d be able to persuade Bill, right up until he actually married Fleur. So Lupin helped her out, just as a friend. Made it clear it was just as a friend, too. When Tonks thought she could persuade him otherwise, Lupin would have none of it. Mum tried to persuade him, according to Dad he ended up storming off, saying the wedding would be called off if Mum and Tonks didn’t stop badgering him. He said his heart was given elsewhere.”
“His heart was given elsewhere?” Severus repeated weakly.
“Hmmm, seems so,” Charlie replied, looking at Severus shrewdly. “But I’m betting it wasn’t another woman,” he said, with a chuckle.
Keeping his face carefully impassive, he responded with a brief non-committal nod.
Perhaps Charlie was brighter than he had suspected, or more intuitive. He leaned forward and earnestly asked Severus, “You seem quite concerned with Lupin… it’s just surprising since you two seemed so at odds. You didn’t hate Lupin after all, then?
Carefully Severus replied, “We had our differences and disagreements, but no, I didn’t hate Lupin,” and surprised himself by blinking away unexpected tears. Damn the chili in the rice-stick soup! It always made his nose run and his eyes tear.
Charlie said nothing, just nodded, looking thoughtful.
Severus stood abruptly, saying brusquely “I must go, I’m expected elsewhere. Give my best to your parents, and to Minerva,” and abruptly apparated away after throwing some money on the table. ~*~
He had already grieved. He was sick of grief: filled to nausea with sorrow; stagnant with unshed tears.
Lunch with Charlie had brought it all back –the grief, the pain.
It had begun with Albus. Loosing him also meant the loss of everyone’s trust. It was as if he’d been forced to watch each of the few who trusted him die one by one.
The loss of Lupin’s trust had been the most painful. Then that candyfloss-haired slut forced Lupin to marry her, and Severus lost him a second time. Nothing, however compared to Lupin’s death – from that loss there could be no recovery. He could never grieve enough, to express the depth of that loss.
Each day passed like the previous day: making potions, creating potions, adapting existing potions. Severus had developed a surprisingly large clientele base for his inventive potions. It was all he could have longed for, and yet…
The unchanging routine failed to soothe him. The colorless repetitions of each day tainted the present one – he did not have it in him to kill his sorrow, it would just be another death.
Until the day Charlie Weasley knocked on his front door.
~*~
Severus could immediately discern that this was no social visit. Charlie seemed tense and ill-at-ease. Inviting him into his small house, Severus decided to broach the matter immediately. “What brings you here today, Mr.Weasley?”
“The Order business that brought me to Australia. Professor McGonagall has asked me to tell you how very much we need you. We need your help.”
Severus nodded his understanding, and then simply said, “Very well, I’ll listen to your request.”
“One of the Order is here in Australia, seeking urgent medical treatment. There was reason to believe… we had information that there were new potions being developed here that offered some hope. A potion based on dragon blood and egg-shells, more specifically, the blood and egg-shells of the Antipodean Opaleye. But the potions aren’t improving his condition, and we have reason to believe that the longer it takes to treat, the graver the danger.”
“Mr Weasley, I need to know who is being treated, the condition he is being treated for, and what remedies have been attempted, before I can offer any opinion.”
“It’s Lupin,” Charlie sighed. “He’s been stuck in wolf-form since the Battle of Hogwarts. And nothing we do can shake him back into human form.”
“Remus Lupin?” Severus asked, lurching up from the armchair he was sitting on, and stumbling to lean against the window-frame. “Lupin is alive?” he asked, his voice cracking and trembling.
~*~
The wolf lay unmoving in a concrete room, a cell without windows and only one door, with a chain-mesh observation access. With his first sight of the familiar silver-streaked fur he thought his heart might stop. Now hope and sorrow thudded through his veins, a cacophony so loud he feared the beast would be roused. His blood pulsed in song: “Lupin, alive, Lupin, alive”. He thought he might faint.
At his side, Charlie was a warm, surprisingly comforting presence, explained how Lupin had been wrongly diagnosed as dead at Hogwarts in the chaos after the battle. In the morgue at St. Mungo’s an attendant was horrified when one of the corpses began moaning and transformed into a wolf. The hapless attendant got away, locking the steel-plated doors behind himself. Armed with stun-wands, the beast division cautiously entered to find the wolf howling next to the palette on which Fred’s body lay. The wolf continued to howl mournfully unless he was sedated.
The Order hoped Remus would come back to himself after the first full moon; each successive full-moon caused hope to fade. Even Wolfsbane potion had no discernable effect on the wolf. The wolf would respond with aggression to those he did not know: although the wolf didn’t attack people he cared for (clearly he recognized them somehow), he remained feral. Moony was gone.
Recognizing the extent of the problem sooner than others, Hermione Granger began researching possible solutions and treatments. Despite initial set-backs, her research had eventually established that their best hope lay with a wolfsbane adaption, alchemized with the blood, scales and egg-shards of the Australian native dragon, the Antipodean Opaleye.
Researchers in Australia and New Zealand had the greatest familiarity with the unique qualities of the Opaleye: after Hermione’s efforts failed to produce a suitable potion, the Order decided to send Remus to Australia with Charlie so that a potion could be developed specifically for him. The Order funded all expenses; Dumbledore’s will had amply provided for Order members and their families.
“So Severus, do you think you can help Remus?” Charlie asked anxiously.
“I cannot guarantee immediate results,” Severus replied, “But I can surely do better than the fools who keep Lupin locked in this concrete box”.
“It’s the law, it was the only way we could bring Remus here,” Charlie said sadly. “At first when they refused us entry to the country, I thought Kingsley was about to declare war,” he smiled sadly. “To bring Remus here, he had to be tightly wrapped in heavy silver chains and sedated,” he shuddered. “Hermione cried the entire trip here.”
Severus nodded brusquely, no longer really listening. Whispering “alohomora” he pushed the formidably barred door slightly open.
“Severus, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Charlie asked, grabbing futilely at his arm as he slipped into the cell.
Closing the door behind him, Severus quietly stepped towards the wolf. It raised its head, ears pricked forward, and slowly stood, stiff legged and tall, with slightly bristled hackles. Ignoring his fearfully pounding heart, Severus slowly approached the wolf. A few steps away, Severus slowly knelt down on all fours, till his head was lower than the wolf’s. Arching his back, and raising his face he pointed his nose up to meet the wolf’s snout. The wolf slowly touched noses with him, and then licked his face and began leaping up onto Severus, dancing around him tail wagging, barking little joyful whuffs.*
Without thinking Severus grabbed the wolf around the neck, and pressed his face into the thick fur. He began to sob silently, holding the wolf tightly in his arms. The wolf submitted to the tight embrace and licked the tears from Severus’s face.
They sat like that for some minutes, and then the werewolf suddenly jerked away from his embrace. Whimpering, the wolf began to shake, spasms contorting his limbs and body. Severus held the convulsing wolf as he screamed himself back into human form. Remus Lupin was back.
~*~
Charlie ran into the cell. He helped Severus stand, and helped carry Remus out of the cell.
“How is he? Where do we take him?” asked Charlie.
Severus wanted to take Remus to his house, away from this concrete cell, where he could look after him, with potions he had made and knew could be trusted. Charlie did not agree, but had no choice when Severus simply apparated away with Remus.
After carefully tucking Remus into his own bed, Severus went to join Charlie. He was pleased to see that Charlie had made a pot of tea, and opened a packet of biscuits.
“Well, how is he?” asked Charlie.
“Like he is after any full-moon transformation, only more so. I would imagine he’ll sleep for longer, and require higher dosages of pain and restorative potions than usual. His pulse rate is as expected and he does not seem to have fever.”
“That sounds alright. Now do you mind telling me what happened there? What on earth induced you to go racing into the cell? Didn’t you listen when I told you earlier than he’d gone feral, and had been aggressive towards some people?”
“I knew he wouldn’t attack me.”
“But how did you get him to transform?”
“I don’t know,” Severus sighed heavily.
~*~
Remus slept throughout that day, through the night and into the next day. Although outwardly calm, Severus became increasingly concerned. He frequently checked his patient, and spent some time merely sitting at Remus’s side, holding his hand (checking his pulse and temperature, he told himself sternly), absently circling his thumb over the back of Remus’s hand. He slept poorly through the night, in a chair beside the bed.
Charlie was also worried: he had slept overnight on Snape’s sofa, just in case the werewolf woke; he hovered in Severus’s way, and then, barely avoiding a serious hexing, he settled into the kitchen to begin cooking a favorite comfort food, his mother’s barley and vegetable soup.
Coaxing Severus to eat some soup, and then lay down to get some proper sleep took Charlie some time, but he was eventually successful. The potions master seemed curiously reluctant to leave the werewolf’s side: Charlie was beginning to formulate a theory about Snape and Lupin, and why only Snape could shake the werewolf out of his feral form. Promising Snape that he would monitor Lupin’s every breath; Charlie settled into the armchair and began reading a new book about the reproduction of Antipodean Opaleyes.
Remus began to stir: disconnected images of battles and curses and flashing lights seemed to drift through his mind; vague sensations of loss and longing and a grief so deep it can barely be borne began to torment him. Feeling his body convulse into a series of spasms, he began to howl – then disoriented with his human vocal cords, he found himself panicking. A terrifying sensation, akin to sliding down a muddy bank towards a raging river in flood, was overwhelming him: in terror, he could feel his human form trying to transform into the more familiar shape of the wolf. He heard a strange voice yelling meaningless words, and then the comfort, the security, the feeling of safety, as familiar arms wrapped around him holding him tight, this familiar much-loved scent, this smooth, silky voice, all soothing and reassuring him, anchoring and restoring him to himself. Himself, Remus Lupin. “Severus,” he whispered, joy and disbelief and an utterly overwhelming relief warring within him. “Severus,” he began to sob, “I thought you were dead.”
~*~
Discreetly leaving the room, Charlie busied himself warming a bowl of vegetable soup for Remus. All the pieces were coming together in his mind, forming a complete picture – the fragments of lore regarding werewolves and their bonds; Snape’s questions about Teddy and his reaction to discovering that Remus was still alive; the fact that Snape’s presence was required as the catalyst for Remus’s successful transformation into human form – it all added into a pattern that told Charlie more than he had ever wanted to know about the nature of the relationship between Snape and Lupin. He smiled to himself as he thought of Hermione’s probable reaction as she realized that there were major elements she simply had not thought of when trying to reach a solution for Remus’s problem.
Calming Remus down took a while: Severus held him and soothed him, whispering nonsense of the deepest love and grief and heart-felt relief. Soothed and quietened, Remus placidly ate some of Charlie’s soup and then fell asleep again.
~*~
Severus woke up, alarmed at some change he had sub-consciously noticed even deep in sleep. Nothing seemed amiss, he calculated, and then he simultaneously registered that the bed was empty at his side and he could hear the sound of the shower running.
Entering the bathroom without knocking, he could dimly make out the form of Remus, obscured by steam and spray. Severus moved closer, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. his eyes drinking in the beautiful form of his lover, naked and wet. There appeared to more scars than Severus remembered – hardly surprising considering that Remus had spent so much time as a feral werewolf. He watched the water stream down his lover’s golden skin; he felt his arousal growing as he hungrily observed the curves of sinewy muscle, the round buttocks. He realized that Remus was aware of his presence, although he was pretending otherwise – his rapidly stiffening cock an unmistakable sign that he knew that Severus was there watching him, and that he liked it.
Hastily stripping off his night-robe, Severus carefully pulled the shower curtain aside, and eased himself in to stand next to Remus. He took up the soap and began to lather up the suds, stroking over his lover’s gleaming skin, caressing the enticing curves around and between his buttocks, up the front between his legs, over the lightly furred bollocks and the erect proud cock.
“Severus,” breathed Remus, and Severus responded by kneeling between his legs as the water beat down, sucking first one and then both bollocks into his mouths, exalting in the sound of his lover’s moans; licking the tip of his dripping cock, then slowly, smoothly drawing the shaft into his mouth, sucking and slurping, his head bobbing up and down.
“Severus, I can’t last,” Remus gasped, feeling the other man’s smirk against his cock. He looked down to meet his lover’s eyes, his black, black eyes, loving the look of his him sucking him off, his pale skin wet and gleaming, his hair long dark strands over his shoulders. Loving the way Severus was moaning as he sucked his cock, and fisting himself hard, his hard purple cock thrusting in his hand.
“Come,” said Severus, “Come for me,” then his lips over his cock again, enveloping him n the moist heat of his mouth, drawing him deeper into his throat, and Remus came and came, howling out Severus’s name, as Severus came too, creamy white semen arcing up to spurt against the shower tiles. Severus, his Severus.
They kept touching each other, soaping and rinsing the other clean, until the hot water finally ran out. Still unwilling to let go, they tenderly dried each other, and then lay down together on the bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms, their breathing and heartbeats synchronous.
~*~
“Severus, the Australian legislation governing the employment of werewolves is not nearly as oppressive as the British laws. I think I would be able to find employment here.”
“Told you so,” smirked Severus, his mouth full of tea and toast.
“Good morning,” said Charlie, with an absurdly wide smile. “Are you thinking of staying here in Australia too, Remus?”
“Too?” asked Severus frowning.
“Sure,” Charlie relied beaming happily. “I’ve applied for a transfer to the Antipodean Opaleye reserve here. And until the transfer is approved, I figure I could stay here with you two. After all, you have both expressed boundless and undying gratitude for accomplishing your loving reunion. I’d think such gratitude could extend to allowing me to temporarily use the spare bedroom, don’t you?”
If Charlie was hoping for words of welcome once he’d made his announcement, he was to be disappointed. Remus’s loud laughter almost drowned out the sound of Severus’s groan; strangely enough Charlie’s smile became happier still.
*Snape’s behavior here is based on information in Wikipedia about the dominant and submissive behaviors of wolves: “Body Language” in Gray Wolf at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wolf