Fic: As We Are Wont, 3
Lupin:
Having. I do not want to have you. I do not want mastery, I do not want claims or any other means by which to marks a person as belonging. Let not oaths be exchanged, nor promises between us-- I am too jealous of those free that I will not conscript it into the hands of another before I have seen its seal. Let there be nothing between us. The past weighs enough as it stands.
I cannot, I never could, speak freely what I might write. And writing for a spy is a foolish endeavor. Nor do I seek to preserve memories, rather I seek to obliterate them. Burn these letters, Lupin. Let nothing remain between us. There can be no record, no hint of association. My life has always belonged to others but this will be mine, and no one else's. Let time forget us, let history wash away and let my name stand as the mark of a traitor, a hero, whatever they wish to make of me. But you-- with you, there is no making. There are no wishes. The simplest and greatest gift we might give each other is nothingness. I have too many ties that bind, oaths sworn for the sake of the greater.
Remus, it is a cliche that seeing my death and tasting you, I become greedy again. I despair that I was not born another man. I desired, when I was young, to be indispensable. To be the man upon which everything depended. I find myself in this position now and my life threads like spider's silk, stretched and steel and fragile. The fortress is my prison, the sound of your voice offers hope unwanted. I will never say this.
Why did we begin, Lupin? Why try to steal moments of our own making when everything is written so clearly on the wall? Why bring ourselves to this point with the terrible understanding, the honesty burning in your gold eyes, that in another time, if another place, on another world. I have had a lifetime to think on regrets, as have you. Are we such gluttons for pain that we find new ways to torture ourselves?
I hate you for wanting to be taken. I hate you for offering what I can never give. I hate the skin of your back, the muscles of your calves, I hate your hands. When we have sex I burn with everything I have lost. When we make love, I bite you because you and I, we have no business making love. We are blasted and fools, Lupin. Why do you insist on taking more?
I should have known you to be a thief. No werewolf survives without stealing from the henhouse. I should have seen your sleight of hand, the same beguiling face and smile that seduced three boys into an unshakeable bond of loyalty to you. The Dark Lord is a chameleon, presenting a convenient skin toward any whom he wants. You are no better. He offers the promise of power. You offer the promise of abandon, wildness, rawness. The Dark Lord brings his followers with the mystique of darkness and you-- moonlight. There is fever in your step, there is terror in your very breath.
A thief. You never were a beggar.
I am not a thief, Remus. Spies hoard memories, information. Connections, advantages. I have always been a spy, Lupin, even as a child. The role came to me naturally just as, I suspect, thieving comes to you.
Let me stay distant. Let us forget. Let us burn letters and memories. When we die, there will be no record of us. For me, that is record enough.
Let me go. I want you. You offer yourself. Do you understand that bound thus, we will never be free?
SS