(no subject)
Here is a fanfic I wrote for one of the H_E Hogsmeade challenges. I got it looked over by some of the wonderful people over at OWL (www.owl.tauri.org) and will be posting it there soon. In the mean time I'm putting it up here. Please all reviews are welcome.
Title: Expressing Doubts (or After Midnight)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: ummm implied sex between two men
Paring: Severus Snape/Regulus Black
Summary: Regulus has some doubts.
Regulus lay in bed staring up at the cracked and shadowy ceiling. It was late at night; so late that it could almost be called early. Regulus tried to sleep, by all rights he should be exhausted, but he couldn’t stop thinking. It was here, in the dark, still night, when the thoughts he ruthlessly suppressed during the day spilled out, refusing to be ignored. It was getting worse. The harder he tried to not think, the more unsettling his thoughts became. It was driving him mad.
“Go to sleep Regulus.” The soft, dark voice rumbled through the bony chest Regulus was currently using as a pillow.
“I can’t. The harder I try to sleep, the more awake I feel,” Regulus sighed. “I’m sorry I’m keeping you up.”
A sleepy ‘hummm’ was the only response.
They lay together in silence for a long while. Just as he felt the breathing beneath him even out, Regulus couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Severus, do you ever have any doubts?” the question he’d been terrified to voice burst from him.
That got his partner’s attention. With an annoyed huff he cracked open an eye and regarded Regulus. “Doubts about what?”
Regulus shifted onto his side and looked down at his lover. “Doubts about.” But the words were stuck in his throat. He couldn’t squeeze them past the fear that suddenly gripped him. It was dangerous enough to even think of this, how could he risk voicing it aloud?
Both eyes were open now, as Severus studied his face carefully. “Doubts about us?” he asked warily, his black eyes shuttered. That lack of expression, while impenetrable to others, spoke volumes to Regulus.
“No! No,” Regulus sighed. “‘Us’ is the one thing I don’t have any doubts about.” He gently ran one finger down Severus’s prominent nose. Severus huffed and glared at him.
“Then what, pray tell, has got you so worried that you’re keeping me awake at Merlin knows what time it is?”
Regulus settled his head on Severus’s shoulder, unable to look at him. His right arm slid over Severus’s chest until his fingers brushed over the Mark scorched onto Severus left arm, the Mark that was mirrored on his own skin. His fingers lightly traced the snake and skull outline. “I have doubts about what we are doing, about what He demands of us.” Regulus’s voice was a soft whisper, barely disturbing the still night surrounding them.
Severus went absolutely still beneath him, not even seeming to breath. “You do realize that is considered treason?”
“I know. But I had to talk to someone. You’re the only one I trust.”
“Even thinking about doubting Him could get you killed, and the Dark Lord is not the only Legilimens.”
“I know. There’s my cousin, Bella, for one. But I’m being careful, I promise.”
“You need to be more than careful.”
“So you’re not going to turn me in?” Regulus asked lightly.
“Don’t joke. By all rights I should.” Severus turned, resting on his side so they faced each other across the bed. “If you don’t watch your every thought around the others, let alone your actions, you could get us both killed.”
Despite the heavy topic, Regulus felt his heart lighten. A part of him had been afraid Severus would pull away from him and want nothing more to do with him. “You never answered my question. Do you ever have any doubts?”
“I know what Muggles are capable of. A few less of them in the world could only be a good thing.” Regulus shivered at the bitterness in Severus’s voice.
“Not every Muggle is like your father, Severus.”
Severus jerked back, then sat up and slipped from the bed. “You don’t know anything about Muggles.”
Regulus saw how tense the muscles on Severus’s back were, and knew how much it was costing the other man to talk about this. He sat up and swung his legs to dangle off the bed. “The nightmares are getting worse. It seems every night I sleep alone I have one. Ever since the raid three weeks ago.” Regulus ran a hand through his hair. “You didn’t go on that one, so you didn’t see. The mother tried to protect her children. There was nothing she could do to stop us, but she tried anyway. A Muggle mother was willing to die to protect her magical children. It was more than my mother would ever be willing to do for Sirius or me.”
Regulus took a deep breath, now was not the time get caught up in painful memories. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Do I doubt that Muggles are a danger to us? No, I have spent too many years watching my father crush my mother’s spirit to ever doubt that. Do I doubt the methods we use?” Severus paused; a tremor ran through his back. “Yes.” His answer was so soft that Regulus might have missed it had he not been straining to hear.
A long moment passed, silent and still. Regulus reached out and took Severus’s hand. His thumb caressed each knuckle. Severus, sharp and angular, was not a man who could be called beautiful, but his hands, long and slender and sure could not be called anything else. Gently he tugged on the hand he had captured. Severus turned around and faced him. Long dark hair fell in curtains around his face, hiding his expression. Regulus tugged him closer and lifted Severus’s hand to his lips.
Severus knelt next to him on the bed, pulled his hand free and with his left hand turned Regulus’s left arm, exposing the Dark Mark. “It is too late, no matter what doubts we have.”
Regulus reached up and bushed the black curtain of hair aside. Severus’s face was open and anguished. Thin pale arms wrapped around Regulus as Severus leaned forward, burying his face in Regulus’s neck. “I don’t want to lose you.” The words were a soft puff of air against his neck, but the emotion in them shook Regulus to his core.
****
Severus lay alone in his cold bed, staring up at the cracked and shadowy ceiling. He dared not close his eyes, every time he did he saw Regulus’s broken and bleeding body crumpled at the feet of their Master. His stomach gave a sickening lurch. He had already been sick once tonight. Severus doubted there was anything left in his stomach to bring back up, but he preferred not to try. Instead, he lay in the still darkness, trying to gain oblivion and failing utterly.
He could still feel the ghostly brush of lips over skin, the warmth of arms holding him through the darkest parts of the night. Though loneliness had been a near constant in his life, Severus could honestly say he had never felt so alone in his life. He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, fingers clutching it like claws as his body shook. He didn’t cry. He couldn’t cry. The grief that gripped him was too overwhelming to be eased with tears.
A bitter strangled laugh escaped him. How many people in his life had called him heartless? Too many for Severus to count. Enough that he had almost believed it himself. Severus Snape, heartless bastard, the words were almost synonymous. They were wrong, he did have a heart; he could feel its jagged edges ripping apart his soul.
Pushing the pillow away from him, Severus threw himself from the bed. The memories assaulting him were unbearable.
Regulus’s grey eyes dancing with mischief as he complained that Severus never had enough pillows. He would then demand that Severus serve in this capacity instead.
Regulus, admitting how much the loss of his brother still hurt him, even years later. How it was killing him trying to live up to his mother’s expectations, how much he had sacrificed in order to be ‘the good son’. Or simply listening as Severus poured out the horror that had been his childhood.
Severus didn’t realize he had been pacing until he stopped. He grabbed a glass from the night table and threw it at the wall as hard as he could. It shattered, raining splinters of glass to the floor. The destruction opened up something deep inside him, and suddenly Severus was angry. He was shaking now, not from grief, but from fury. Anger was something Severus could understand; this was something he could use to give him focus. Not the soul shattering grief that had kept him motionless in bed for hours.
Seveus’s anger had only one target.
Not bothering to grab his cloak, not caring that he was about to land himself in Azkaban or worse, Severus left the house and Apparated to Hogsmeade. He had some information about the Dark Lord and his followers that Albus Dumbledore was certain to find interesting.
Title: Expressing Doubts (or After Midnight)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: ummm implied sex between two men
Paring: Severus Snape/Regulus Black
Summary: Regulus has some doubts.
Regulus lay in bed staring up at the cracked and shadowy ceiling. It was late at night; so late that it could almost be called early. Regulus tried to sleep, by all rights he should be exhausted, but he couldn’t stop thinking. It was here, in the dark, still night, when the thoughts he ruthlessly suppressed during the day spilled out, refusing to be ignored. It was getting worse. The harder he tried to not think, the more unsettling his thoughts became. It was driving him mad.
“Go to sleep Regulus.” The soft, dark voice rumbled through the bony chest Regulus was currently using as a pillow.
“I can’t. The harder I try to sleep, the more awake I feel,” Regulus sighed. “I’m sorry I’m keeping you up.”
A sleepy ‘hummm’ was the only response.
They lay together in silence for a long while. Just as he felt the breathing beneath him even out, Regulus couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Severus, do you ever have any doubts?” the question he’d been terrified to voice burst from him.
That got his partner’s attention. With an annoyed huff he cracked open an eye and regarded Regulus. “Doubts about what?”
Regulus shifted onto his side and looked down at his lover. “Doubts about.” But the words were stuck in his throat. He couldn’t squeeze them past the fear that suddenly gripped him. It was dangerous enough to even think of this, how could he risk voicing it aloud?
Both eyes were open now, as Severus studied his face carefully. “Doubts about us?” he asked warily, his black eyes shuttered. That lack of expression, while impenetrable to others, spoke volumes to Regulus.
“No! No,” Regulus sighed. “‘Us’ is the one thing I don’t have any doubts about.” He gently ran one finger down Severus’s prominent nose. Severus huffed and glared at him.
“Then what, pray tell, has got you so worried that you’re keeping me awake at Merlin knows what time it is?”
Regulus settled his head on Severus’s shoulder, unable to look at him. His right arm slid over Severus’s chest until his fingers brushed over the Mark scorched onto Severus left arm, the Mark that was mirrored on his own skin. His fingers lightly traced the snake and skull outline. “I have doubts about what we are doing, about what He demands of us.” Regulus’s voice was a soft whisper, barely disturbing the still night surrounding them.
Severus went absolutely still beneath him, not even seeming to breath. “You do realize that is considered treason?”
“I know. But I had to talk to someone. You’re the only one I trust.”
“Even thinking about doubting Him could get you killed, and the Dark Lord is not the only Legilimens.”
“I know. There’s my cousin, Bella, for one. But I’m being careful, I promise.”
“You need to be more than careful.”
“So you’re not going to turn me in?” Regulus asked lightly.
“Don’t joke. By all rights I should.” Severus turned, resting on his side so they faced each other across the bed. “If you don’t watch your every thought around the others, let alone your actions, you could get us both killed.”
Despite the heavy topic, Regulus felt his heart lighten. A part of him had been afraid Severus would pull away from him and want nothing more to do with him. “You never answered my question. Do you ever have any doubts?”
“I know what Muggles are capable of. A few less of them in the world could only be a good thing.” Regulus shivered at the bitterness in Severus’s voice.
“Not every Muggle is like your father, Severus.”
Severus jerked back, then sat up and slipped from the bed. “You don’t know anything about Muggles.”
Regulus saw how tense the muscles on Severus’s back were, and knew how much it was costing the other man to talk about this. He sat up and swung his legs to dangle off the bed. “The nightmares are getting worse. It seems every night I sleep alone I have one. Ever since the raid three weeks ago.” Regulus ran a hand through his hair. “You didn’t go on that one, so you didn’t see. The mother tried to protect her children. There was nothing she could do to stop us, but she tried anyway. A Muggle mother was willing to die to protect her magical children. It was more than my mother would ever be willing to do for Sirius or me.”
Regulus took a deep breath, now was not the time get caught up in painful memories. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Do I doubt that Muggles are a danger to us? No, I have spent too many years watching my father crush my mother’s spirit to ever doubt that. Do I doubt the methods we use?” Severus paused; a tremor ran through his back. “Yes.” His answer was so soft that Regulus might have missed it had he not been straining to hear.
A long moment passed, silent and still. Regulus reached out and took Severus’s hand. His thumb caressed each knuckle. Severus, sharp and angular, was not a man who could be called beautiful, but his hands, long and slender and sure could not be called anything else. Gently he tugged on the hand he had captured. Severus turned around and faced him. Long dark hair fell in curtains around his face, hiding his expression. Regulus tugged him closer and lifted Severus’s hand to his lips.
Severus knelt next to him on the bed, pulled his hand free and with his left hand turned Regulus’s left arm, exposing the Dark Mark. “It is too late, no matter what doubts we have.”
Regulus reached up and bushed the black curtain of hair aside. Severus’s face was open and anguished. Thin pale arms wrapped around Regulus as Severus leaned forward, burying his face in Regulus’s neck. “I don’t want to lose you.” The words were a soft puff of air against his neck, but the emotion in them shook Regulus to his core.
****
Severus lay alone in his cold bed, staring up at the cracked and shadowy ceiling. He dared not close his eyes, every time he did he saw Regulus’s broken and bleeding body crumpled at the feet of their Master. His stomach gave a sickening lurch. He had already been sick once tonight. Severus doubted there was anything left in his stomach to bring back up, but he preferred not to try. Instead, he lay in the still darkness, trying to gain oblivion and failing utterly.
He could still feel the ghostly brush of lips over skin, the warmth of arms holding him through the darkest parts of the night. Though loneliness had been a near constant in his life, Severus could honestly say he had never felt so alone in his life. He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, fingers clutching it like claws as his body shook. He didn’t cry. He couldn’t cry. The grief that gripped him was too overwhelming to be eased with tears.
A bitter strangled laugh escaped him. How many people in his life had called him heartless? Too many for Severus to count. Enough that he had almost believed it himself. Severus Snape, heartless bastard, the words were almost synonymous. They were wrong, he did have a heart; he could feel its jagged edges ripping apart his soul.
Pushing the pillow away from him, Severus threw himself from the bed. The memories assaulting him were unbearable.
Regulus’s grey eyes dancing with mischief as he complained that Severus never had enough pillows. He would then demand that Severus serve in this capacity instead.
Regulus, admitting how much the loss of his brother still hurt him, even years later. How it was killing him trying to live up to his mother’s expectations, how much he had sacrificed in order to be ‘the good son’. Or simply listening as Severus poured out the horror that had been his childhood.
Severus didn’t realize he had been pacing until he stopped. He grabbed a glass from the night table and threw it at the wall as hard as he could. It shattered, raining splinters of glass to the floor. The destruction opened up something deep inside him, and suddenly Severus was angry. He was shaking now, not from grief, but from fury. Anger was something Severus could understand; this was something he could use to give him focus. Not the soul shattering grief that had kept him motionless in bed for hours.
Seveus’s anger had only one target.
Not bothering to grab his cloak, not caring that he was about to land himself in Azkaban or worse, Severus left the house and Apparated to Hogsmeade. He had some information about the Dark Lord and his followers that Albus Dumbledore was certain to find interesting.