Snape/Lupin Drabble Community

Remus found he was intensely curious about his strange, sombre companion, who seemed so accepting of the monster that lurked within him. His parents had always impressed upon him the importance of keeping his secret nature, well, secret.

Had the wolf sensed, somehow, that this was someone who could be trusted? Did the wolf even care about things like that – or was it just the mating instinct? Remus wished, not for the first time, that he was better able to recall what happened when the wolf took over.

Remus suddenly felt an urgent need to stop the man leaving him.

…………………………

“Um, I was wondering – you see, I’m not doing anything at all today, so I thought maybe you might like some, ah, support at your father’s funeral?”

“Lupin, if I have given you the impression that I am prostrated with grief at his passing, I can assure you that it is entirely erroneous.”

“Ah. Of course. Sorry.”

A pause. “Nevertheless, you are welcome to accompany me, if you truly wish to waste your afternoon at the funeral of a man you never knew and would most certainly have detested.”

“I’d be delighted. Thank-you.”

Remus found he was feeling ridiculously light-hearted.

………………………………


The funeral had been an…experience. It had been obvious that Severus was the black sheep of the family – and equally obvious that he didn’t give a monkey’s what any of his relatives thought of him.

Remus wondered if it were simple homophobia, having been rather amused to hear himself described as Severus’s “fancy man” by a couple of outraged old biddies.

Although, to be fair, the other man had done nothing to foster such an assumption, Remus had a strong suspicion that the possibility of this kind of reaction had been precisely why Severus had accepted his offer of company,

……………………………….

On the way back, Remus plucked up the courage to question his companion, telling himself that he had to find some way to lead into a hint that he was…interested.

“So, what exactly did you do to make them all hate you?”

“Don’t pretend to be naïve, Lupin, I am quite aware you heard what was said.”

“Is, er, that the only reason they’re so, well, hostile?”

“You seem very eager to know all my sordid little secrets, Lupin.”

Was that a smile? “Well, you know mine.”

“All of them?”

That was definitely a smile. “Well, maybe not all, yet.”

………………………………..

They reached Remus’s dilapidated cottage just as twilight was falling. Severus glanced at the sky. “How long do we have?”

“About an hour until moonrise, I’d say.”

“Time enough.”

Remus discovered that he had been quite right about the other man’s dominant streak, as Severus simultaneously kicked the front door shut and pressed Remus up against the wall. “If you bite me now, will I catch it?”

“Don’t know,” Remus panted, pressing back against him.

“Damn. Then I suppose you’d better not bite.”

Long, sensual fingers were caressing his groin, unfastening his trousers.

“Nothing to stop me, though,” Severus growled.

……………………………………


An hour had sufficed, barely. After they had dressed, and Remus had locked himself in the cellar, having assured himself that Severus would stay the night, Severus mooched around, examining Remus’s bookshelves, largely stocked with tatty second-hand items.

There was, Severus was unsurprised to note, quite a large selection of werewolf lore. Also numerous anthropology texts, and a few volumes on animal behaviour.

He made himself another cup of Remus’s foul instant coffee, and sat down with one of the werewolf books. As he read, a sorrowful howl sounded from below.

Severus hesitated, then arose, and made for the cellar.

………………………………………

Severus wasn’t sure why he had such an unhealthy fascination with the beast Remus had turned into the previous night. Perhaps it was merely because the creature had spared him – and he was certain there was something to be read into that, something the other man wasn’t telling him.

Perhaps he merely wished to assure himself that it had really happened. Last night’s events had, with their attendant lack of sleep, assumed an almost dreamlike quality in his recollections.

And perhaps there was something about that mournful howl, those melancholy eyes, that called to him.

He opened the cellar door.