RL/SS Fic: To The Rescue
Title: To the Rescue
Date: February 7, 2005
Author: Rose_Whispers
Rating: R
Pairing: Remus/Severus
Summary: Severus encounters someone he’d rather not see which prompts Remus to come to the rescue. Pure fluff. And smut. With a teensy bit of backstory.
Word Count: 6196
A/N: My very first Remus/Severus fic. I’m in the middle of a rather dark, serious RL/SS, but this fluffy little bunny started biting at my ankle with its freakishly pointy teeth, and I had no choice but to write this story instead. My take on one of my favourite overused plot devices, with smut to finish.
Anyone interested in betaing/britpicking stories for me, let me know. I’ll squeeze you and love you and call you George and write you pairings/situations of your choice as payment.
Cross posted to Snape_Lupin, Snapish_Smut, and my own journal
At the best of times, Diagon Alley was not Severus Snape’s favourite place. Today, though, it was particularly irksome. Only two weeks before the start of classes, only three months after the fall of the Dark Lord, and the busy wizarding corridor was stuffed full of even more people than usual, bumping and jostling and touching Severus at an alarming rate. To top it all off, the sun was shining down more merrily than one of Albus Dumbledore’s twinkliest smiles. Out of common courtesy to his already foul disposition, the weather could have been gloomy and raining, but no, it was determinedly sunny. Severus took it as a personal affront.
But he had no choice. His wand had been malfunctioning since the end of the war, since that climactic battle between him and Narcissa Malfoy, the one who had first lured him to the Death Eaters all those years ago. This morning, the wand had finally waved a white flag of surrender, sputtered, and exploded in his hand when he’d tried to conjure himself some tea. Despite the Dark Lord’s demise, Severus was not about to go even a day unarmed. So here he was, in the midst of throngs of people whose moods and clothes were far too bright, pushing against the tide of families and friends toward Ollivander’s. Damn the wandmaker for not simply owling a wand to Hogwarts as he’d requested.
At the very least, some twisted part of Severus’ brain was taking cruel delight in the way the children and even some of the younger adults scattered in his wake. Imposing Master of Potions, Dungeons, and Detentions that he was, Severus Snape looked like he could start taking house points here in the middle of August.
He didn’t make it to the wand shop before his day grew worse. It did so in the form of one-time star Beater for the Chudley Cannons Dionysus Nightly, a man with charcoal eyes, full lips, a six-foot, well-muscled frame, and an arrogant sneer that rivaled Severus’ own. The Potions Master hadn’t seen him in years, and certainly didn’t want to change that now. With a snarl of surprised frustration, he sidestepped into the closest shop. And immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Welcome to Little Miss Witch,” an oversized, enchanted rose-coloured teapot trilled. “Your one-stop shop for everything your precious little witch could ask for.”
“I’m in hell”, Severus muttered. He could already feel a headache beginning to take root somewhere behind his eye sockets.
A rainbow of pastel colours undulated across the shimmering walls, accompanied by the occasional image of a prancing unicorn. The display cases were crammed full of books, clothing and toys that seemed made of spun sugar. Pink sparkly spun sugar. The air was filled with the high pitched chatter of excited little girls and their even more excited parents. So this, Severus mused, explained children like the Patil twins and Lavender Brown. And possibly the Creevey brothers. He wanted to charge the hell out of the place, but that would mean running into Dionysus Nightly. And Dionysus Nightly was even more unpleasant than this store, albeit in an entirely different way.
I am not hiding, Severus told himself firmly, doing his best to blend into a corner and succeeding about as well as an acromantula at a baby shower. I have faced down Death Eaters bent on revenge. I have suffered the rage of the Dark Lord at his most displeased. I fear nothing. I am simply avoiding an acrimonious situation, nothing more.
Affirmation thus confirmed, Severus feigned interest in a pile of phoenix plushies amassed in a large glass bin. Periodically, one of the toys would burst into a glittering gold puff of smoke and reemerge as a putridly ugly, squawking baby phoenix plushie. He fought the urge to transfigure the entire monstrosity into a howling heap of unpotted mandrake roots.
“They’re so cute!” one miniature witch cooed, reaching into the bin. Severus’ headache grew steadily worse as he told himself that it was wrong to hex a four-year-old. Then he realized the argument was moot anyway because he didn’t have a wand. That predicament was why he was here in the first place.
“Enough!” he told himself. He’d come for a wand. A wand he would get. Everything else could be damned. Stepping into the street once more, he was actually grateful for the sunlight. At least the air outside wasn’t full of psychedelic sparkles. He made to continue his trek toward Ollivander’s when a muscular arm landed around his shoulders and an entirely too self-confident Beater fell into step beside him. Clearly, he’d been waiting outside the shop.
“Sev’rus,” the man rumbled.
Severus kept walking, fighting the urge to throw Dionysus’ arm off him. It was a battle that he’d lose without a wand.
“Now, now, Sev’rus, sullen silence isn’t very becoming.”
“I find myself with very little to say to you, Dionysus,” Severus ground out.
“How’ve you been?” The Beater slowed to a stop in the middle of the road, halting the agitated Potions Master’s gait as well. “It’s been years since I saw you last.”
“A circumstance I was more than happy with,” Severus spat, shrugging the arm off his shoulders. He spun around and glared at the man before him, the man who he’d fallen in love with fifteen years before. The Quidditch MVP could have had anyone, but he’d chosen the youthful Severus. Upon reflection, Severus knew he’d chosen a great many other young men as well.
Severus Snape wasn’t thought of as a passionate man by his students, who only ever saw him in peevish-and-often-enraged professor mode. His desires could be stirred up, though, and once awakened he became as much a slave to passion as he normally was to professionalism. He had only two romantic regrets. One was for a man he’d realized too late that he could very easily love, who he’d tormented ceaselessly this past year, who had disappeared after the war. The other was embodied by the man in front of him. In the first instance, he regretted not being involved with someone. In this case, he bitterly regretted his involvement. Yet another episode in a life of pain and betrayal.
Dionysus leered at Severus, reading just how uncomfortable the younger man was. The years had been kind to the Beater. Though he must have been over fifty, he and Severus looked about the same age.
“Here to pick up a new round of gullible young men, Dionysus?” Severus drawled, doing his best to regain control of a situation he’d never controlled in the first place. “I think I saw a group of third years by Flourish and Blott’s. Or perhaps you’re still too busy hiding behind your celebrity status so you don’t have actually have to do something to save the world.”
“Both, really,” Dionysus replied, matching the drawl and adding a hint of wickedness.
That wickedness had been Severus’ one weakness throughout his twenties, as a death eater and as a double agent for the Order. Whenever Dionysus had called, Severus had come. In every sense of the word. Even when he hated the man, even when he knew he was being used.
Balancing wicked with antagonistic, Severus continued smoothly. “It’s such a shame you were trounced so exhaustively in your retirement game. Seven hundred and forty points to ten. And that last bludger you took to the back of your head. How very fortunate that whatever brain matter you possess didn’t leak out.”
The cinder eyes narrowed and Dionysus took a step closer, invading his erstwhile lover’s personal space in a way that was not at all agreeable. “Ah, so you’ve been watching me. How flattering.”
Severus gave himself a mental kick for sounding like he’d been following the man’s career. “I only heard about it afterward,” he said carelessly. “Though I made sure to obtain a photograph of that bludger blow. I found it more than entertaining.”
“At least I had a line of your so-called gullible young men to... comfort me afterward, didn’t I? I’m sleeping with a lovely eighteen year old Scottish lad named Angus at the mo’. I imagine you taught him. Potions, I mean. Tell me, Severus, between ‘saving the world’ and being a Hogwarts babysitter, how’s your love life?”
The Potions Master felt the blood rush unbidden to his cheeks. He’d never defined himself by his relationships or lack thereof, but in the face of Dionysus’ knowing smirk, he felt a level of inadequacy he hadn’t experienced in years. Sputtering, he was trying to think of a suitable response that included Dionysus’ possible STDs, failing stamina, and
lack of spine matching other flaccid areas of his body when he felt for the second time that day a strong arm settle across his shoulders. Only all of his espionage-honed instincts kept him from betraying his surprise. He nearly lost it when the owner of that arm spoke in a most familiar voice.
“There you are, love. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Remus Lupin. Severus was able to swivel his head enough to take in his former adversary. He looked tanned and healthy, the scar tissue blending into the rest of the skin. His hair was that same silvering golden, though longer and tied into a loose, messy ponytail, and his eyes were twinkling in a way that would give Dumbledore a run for his galleons. Severus couldn’t process the sudden appearance and proximity of the werewolf. He tried to answer, but no sound emerged. Remus took advantage of the silence to drop a kiss on one sallow cheek and whisper, “play along.”
Severus found his voice at last, though it nearly disappeared again when Remus traced the line of his jawbone tenderly. “Where have I been? I’ve been hunting for you. You know I hate traipsing about this infernal place.”
“I know. I do apologize.” Remus turned a predatory glare on Dionysus Nightly. “And you are?”
Severus was shocked at the protective tone that dripped with jealousy and possessiveness. Remus hooked an arm around the astonished Potions Master’s neck and planted his palm on his chest, splaying the fingers out to cover as much area as possible. Remus was several inches shorter, leaving Severus no choice but to lean into the werewolf, feeling the heat radiating from him. He knew the pose was screaming “Mine! Hands off!” He cleared his throat uneasily, unused to seeing this side of the amiable ex-professor and certainly unaccustomed to being so very, very close. “Ease up. He’s just an old friend, love.”
The last word felt unfamiliar on his tongue, except in phrases such as “I would love to see you scraping dragon dung from the bottom of these one thousand cauldrons with your teeth, Potter”, but if Remus noticed how thickly he said it, he didn’t let on. Instead, he dug his fingers into the fabric of Severus’ robes and idly caressed his chest. The Potions Master had to suppress a shiver.
“Well, Sev’rus,” Dionysus said, but didn’t seem capable of continuing.
“I do believe it’s time to be going,” Remus growled, doing a remarkable impression of an irate Norwegian Ridgeback. “Good day.”
Remus swept Severus away toward the Leaky Cauldron, saying in a voice that carried back to the stunned Beater, “You know how I get, Sev. I don’t like sharing you.”
Twenty paces more, and Remus released his iron grip, letting his arm slide down to catch Severus’ hand loosely in his. “That was fun,” he said with a wolfish grin. “Hold on in case he’s still watching.”
“Fun?” Severus spluttered, enjoying the tangle of fingers in spite of himself.
“I had no idea you’d been with a Quidditch pro. I’m jealous. You know, we had a Dionysus Nightly poster up in our dorm in the seventh year. I doubt my friends had any idea that I just liked to look at him. Nasty bugger though, isn’t he?”
Severus’ mouth opened and closed several times before he managed to snatch his hand away and turn a high-powered scowl on the other man. “Where the hell have you been? You vanish for three months and then show up here and-”
“Rescue you?” Remus supplied helpfully. He reached out again and reclaimed the recalcitrant hand, letting his fingers run over the pallid knuckle before twining with the Potions Master’s.
“Rescue me? Rescue me?” Severus practically shrieked. He took a long gasp to get himself back under control.
“Your expression howled ‘I’m being trapped and tortured by my terrible ex’, Severus,” the wolf said evenly. “Pretending to be your jealous boyfriend was the least I could do. After everything.”
Severus was aware of the stares they were garnering, and his fury deepened. “So glad I had the mighty Lupin to the rescue, then. Now unhand me or you’ll find yourself unable to walk until the next full moon!”
A gleeful grin split Lupin’s unassumingly handsome features. “Is that a promise?”
For the second time that afternoon, Severus’ pale skin was stained with a crimson blush. “I meant I would hex you, you fool.”
“Of course.” Remus, still firmly not letting go of Severus’ hand, looked thoughtful for a moment. Severus was severely disconcerted by the utter confidence the man was exuding. He was used to modest, peaceable Lupin, not grinning, showy Lupin. He couldn’t imagine what change had brought this on. Or why he liked it quite so much.
You know exactly why you like it, Severus Snape, his conscience told him.
Fuck off, you. Now’s not the time to start asserting yourself, Severus snarked back at it. He was aware that Remus was still watching him, as though he could tell exactly what was going on in Severus’ head. An amused grin spread across his face.
“You know, I imagine he’s following us. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive.”
“For god’s sake, Lupin, what are you going on about?”
Before Severus knew what was happening, the shorter man had released his hand and reached upward, catching Severus’ chin and holding him still before curving upward to capture his lips in the lightest brush of a kiss. Severus’ inky eyes widened in complete shock as they locked with Remus’ sunny, laughing gaze. Severus tried to jerk back but arms wrapped around him and fingers laced through his hair, the sinewy body fitting so flawlessly against his own that his breath caught. Remus seemed to take that as all the invitation he needed. He drew Severus’ head back down and caught him in a bruising, confident kiss, a breathtaking growl emanating from deep inside the werewolf. Something long buried snapped in Severus’ head and his lips parted, allowing Remus’ tongue total access. Severus didn’t know if the raw need that drove the kiss came from him or from Remus, but he moaned in spite of himself, a tiny sound of urgency at the back of his throat, and buried his hands in the wolf’s hair, tearing it out of its ponytail. Remus’ nails scraped at the nape of Severus’ neck as the arm around his waist pressed them together, as though Remus had to have as little space as possible between them. The delightful contrast of the friction of a hard body against the sweet suppleness of Remus’ lips and tongue threatened to intoxicate Severus, who at last pulled back, dizzy. He took in the sight before him: the wild hair, the shining, swollen lips, the flushed cheeks, the eyes wide with desire.
“So that was... just for show,” Severus managed to gasp, feeling suddenly uncomfortable being the subject of that knowing, searching gaze.
“Of course,” Remus replied, breath ragged, eyes flashing. “In case Monsieur Nightly is spying.”
“And not for any other reason,” Severus continued, unwilling to take a step back, to lose the delicious heat between them.
“One never knows,” Remus said enigmatically.
Severus tried to muster up a disdainful sneer, but he knew it was closer to a gaping stare. He hadn’t been this close to the werewolf since the final battle. He maintained as graceful a silence as possible, lost in Remus’ eyes and his own memories of a few months past. Death Eaters scattered throughout the Forbidden Forest. The Dark Lord’s army of wizards and giants, Dementors and Lethifolds closing in on the last bastion of the Order, Hogwarts Castle itself. Curses flashing through the air, the sound of screams so thick they almost became a background noise to be ignored. Fallen enemies, fallen comrades. And Severus had seen the murderous green light of MacNair’s Avada Kedavra surging toward Lupin, whose back was toward it. Without thinking, the Potions Master had launched himself through the air and dragged the smaller man to the ground, rolling them both a few feet before coming to a disheveled stop. The smell of incinerated ozone sizzled above their heads as they lay in a tangle in the dirt, Severus on top, nose-to-nose with the last Marauder standing.
“Avada,” Severus had hissed, trying desperately to explain his foolish action, the enhanced awareness of the torso below him sending a strange thrill through his body.
The shock on Remus’ face was replaced for a split second by something else, something far deeper, and he’d reached tentatively upward, touching Severus’ cheek in wonder. They stayed frozen for an instant, the air between them more electric than the energy of the killing curse zinging above them and Severus knew, knew how much he’d missed with the man below him because he’d been too stubborn to release his hatred.
But someone shouted for help, and that tenuous, ephemeral moment slipped away. They rolled apart and back to their feet, diving into the fray once more. And Lupin had disappeared immediately after the Dark Lord’s fall, just after he’d been assured that Potter was alive.
Only to reappear now, like a rabbit out of a bloody hat. Two regrets in one day. One man he wished he’d never loved and one he realized he would love all the rest of his days. Who had subsequently taken off to parts unknown for three months. Clearly, Remus either hadn’t interpreted that moment as Severus had, or else he hadn’t liked its implications and had therefore left. Either way, Severus Snape could take a hint. But for now he knew he had to say something, or else step out of this exquisite circle of arms and acknowledge it was all a sham. He wasn’t quite ready to yet. He would allow himself this one fleeting, guilty pleasure.
“Where the hell have you been?” he hissed, summoning up as much vitriol as he could manage. He was overly aware of the hand run slowly up and down his spine. He fought hard not to sigh with pleasure, like some blasted neglected housecat.
“Albus asked me to help track down some of the Death Eaters still on the loose. As I’m sure you were doing as well. I had to remain incognito. Afterwards, I went to Beauxbatons, to help the survivors of the attacks there,” Remus said, voice distracted, whether from memories or something else, Severus couldn’t say. “I agreed to go immediately because I thought I was losing my mind.”
“Ah,” Severus said, as if that explained everything.
Remus grinned that knowing grin again. “I thought I might have seen some spark in you. Something that said you might actually... care. For me. But I managed to convince myself that I was imagining things in the heat of battle. You’d have rescued anyone from that curse. I was reading too much into it.”
“I see.” It was ridiculously difficult to maintain a neutral tone of voice when Remus was bloody looking at him like that, as if he was about to pounce.
“You don’t see,” Remus said with a rueful shake of his head, taking a step back and letting his hands rest lightly on Severus’ shoulders. “This past year, I was coming to grips with certain realizations about you. And it was as if you could tell that my feelings were changing, you git. It was as if you were purposefully escalating your hostility toward me. Like I was your only target, and you were funneling all of your hatred into me. So of course, when I thought that perhaps I saw something else in you, I told myself I must be mistaken. And I knew that I had to get away from you as quickly as possible, or risk deluding myself further. And embarrassing myself.”
“I... can hardly blame you for coming to that conclusion,” Severus ground out. He knew that he’d spent the last year being particularly nasty toward Remus. He’d never stopped to ask himself where the walls he was building of gibes and taunts, idle threats and meaningless loathing were coming from. He tried to turn away, suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin and under Remus’ steady hands.
But Remus wouldn’t let him go. He followed, staying firmly in Severus’ personal space in a manner similar to Dionysus Nightly’s but effecting an entirely different response from Severus. Molten eyes burned through Severus’ armor to his very core. The Potions Master felt his heart rate double. “Lupin-”
“Besides,” Remus continued, as if completely unaware that Severus had spoken, “you threw yourself off me pretty damned fast after I touched your cheek.”
It took Severus a moment to process this. Especially after Remus lifted one hand up to reproduce the gesture. Severus tried his best not to lean into the touch and muttered sulkily, “I didn’t throw myself off you, you idiot. I heard someone shout for help. What did you want, me to stay there in the heat of battle and snog you?”
Remus chuckled. “It only just occurred to me that perhaps I’d overreacted. After our young friend Harry paid me a visit this morning and told me the strangest thing. Would you like to know what he told me?”
Severus gave what he hoped was an indifferent shrug.
“He told me that after I disappeared, you went looking for me. That you spent a month hunting me down. That you even demanded of him and of the headmaster where you might find me.”
Those relentless eyes bore into Severus’ and he swallowed hard. True, he had. He’d needed to know what that moment had meant. He’d been willing to face his fears head on, but the supposedly brave Gryffindor had eluded him.
“Dumbledore refused to answer me,” Severus said, the betrayal creeping into his tone. “He said you were where you needed to be, and that I should give you time.”
“And Harry?”
Severus grimaced. Potter. He’d gone to Potter and asked, as nonchalantly as possible, where the werepuppy had gone to lick his wounds after the battle. And after claiming not to know, the half-witted whelp had gone running to Lupin.
“When you saved my life, Severus, I thought I imagined that you’d done it because you cared for me.” Remus shook his ruefully. “But I convinced myself it couldn’t be so. I knew that after all the times you’ve demonstrated your total contempt for me, you could feel nothing else. More so after that last year. And yet I was engulfed by the knowledge that I... Severus, I couldn’t stay here, stay close to you, and live with your scorn. And so I ran. I made myself useful, but I stayed far away from Hogwarts. You’d affirmed time and again just how much you hated me. Or at least, I thought you had.”
Severus avoided the hopeful eyes. “I don’t sodding hate you.” Why was this so difficult?
“Prove it,” Remus growled.
Severus’ eyes widened. Baited by the challenging tone and the upturned lips and his own fiery hunger, his fingers clutched at the rough material of Remus’ robes and hauled the smaller man toward him. He whispered his lips over Remus’ cheekbones, teasingly along the jaw line, before catching Remus’ mouth and gliding inside, tasting green tea and desire. Remus’ tongue rose up to meet his, curling about it and stroking it invitingly, tantalizingly. Some small part of his brain gasped its amazement that the man in his arms was quivering with pleasure. The rest of him was concentrating on the taste of Remus and the feel of Remus’ searching hands trying to find their way beneath his robes. He pulled back with a little noise of loss, the rational part of him reminding him severely that they were still in the middle of Diagon Alley. The stares and smirks of the people watching them with open interest brought him back to his senses. Somewhat. The look on Remus’ face was rather successfully countering any attempt on Severus’ part to give a damn.
“I’d thought when you saved me that I understood you at last, Severus. I thought I saw why you were being so especially nasty to me. You’ve been feeling this for awhile, haven’t you? Just like I have. And you didn’t know what to do about it. So you tormented me.”
“Are you quite finished with your pseudo-psychological analysis?” The imperious tone was the same one Severus used when demanding an answer to a trick question on a practical examination.
Remus leaned in and grazed his lips along Severus’ jawbone, ghosted his teeth against the pulse point of his neck, took the gentlest taste just below the collar. He breathed in the scent of the highly aroused professor before pulling back and smiling with a knowing look in his eyes. “When Harry told me that you’d actually gone looking for me, I knew that it must be true. That you must care for me, and I talked myself into believing otherwise. You’d have never come after me if you hadn’t felt something, too. I came back absolutely sure of what I’d find.”
“And that is?”
“You. I want you, Severus. Now. And don’t deny that you don’t want me just as much.”
“Cocky bugger, aren’t you?” Severus said, tone all but indicating that this was some onerous business transaction. “Well, I rescued you once. You have since rescued me. I suggest we call it even and start afresh.” His eyes glittered devilishly. To emphasize his point, he swooped down and claimed another kiss.
Remarkably, they managed to stumble into the Leaky Cauldron and halfway up the stairs toward Remus’ room before either gave in to temptation. Or rather, before Remus took the opportunity to press Severus’ body against the wall on the first landing, to cover it with his own and cover Severus’ protesting mouth with quieting lips, dragging tongue against tongue, nipping the thin bottom lip, kissing his way down the long, elegant neck just as quickly as he could undo the myriad buttons hindering his path. Severus writhed against Remus, unused to this blissful sensory overload, untouched for so long. His darkest dreams had included such moments, but he’d never admitted them upon awakening. And now the werewolf had found that spot in the hollow of Severus’ throat, and his eyes rolled back into his head and he practically purred his delight, feeling Remus’ lips form a smile before going back to the important task of kissing and licking that sensitive spot. Severus’ body was thrumming with an energy he’d never experienced before, a rightness mixed with the wickedness of such sensual pleasure.
“I took a room on the second floor this morning,” Remus moaned between caresses.
“Awfully sure of yourself,” Severus panted, tilting his head to give Remus more access.
“I’ve wanted you for so long, so long, Severus,” Remus gasped, running his deft tongue along the curve of Severus’ ear. “When I realized you wanted it too, I couldn’t get here fast enough. I think Harry’s still at Beauxbatons wondering if I’m going to show up for lunch.”
“Do you never shut up, Lupin?” Severus demanded haughtily, his normal cool replaced by an irrepressible heat.
In response, Remus lowered his head and bit down hard at the delicate flesh of Severus’ exposed neck. “Must get you out of these clothes,” Remus muttered. “Got to see what it is you keep hidden under all of these layers.”
“Then you might want to get out of the corridor,” Severus observed, breath hitching as Remus’ teeth threatened to break skin. “Good lord, man, ooooh.”
Remus released him and hands wrapped in Severus’, they fought and shifted for the more dominant position as they staggered up the second set of stairs. Remus caught his foot halfway up and fell, dragging Severus down with him, unwilling to break the contact. He rolled them so that Severus’ lank body was below him, draped across the stairs. Remus took the opportunity to straddle the other man, to feel the length of Severus’ hardness pressed against his own. He began a slow, rocking rhythm, watching the incredible transformation of Severus’ face, watched all the closed-off emotion begin to surface. Severus’ surprisingly strong hands came up and grasped Remus’ hips, bucking upward, taking control of the motion, keeping it measured and steady, though the wildness in the Potions Master’s eyes betrayed any pretense of calm. Remus bowed down and ran his tongue as lightly as he could across Severus’ bottom lip. Severus shivered with pleasure before capturing the tongue and pulling it into his mouth, urging the rest of Remus down into a scorching kiss. Remus moaned, which made Severus moan.
Severus never found out just how far they would have gotten on the stairs, because at that moment the thunder of footsteps from somewhere above them forced them apart. Remus jumped guiltily off Severus and extended a sheepish hand toward him, tugging him upward off the stairs, and they made it the rest of the way up the staircase before they passed the source of the commotion, two members of the cleaning staff. Severus thought he could truly go crazy from lack of touching Remus for even that short amount of time.
Thankfully, Remus turned to the first door to his left and began fumbling for his room key. Severus took advantage of being behind and wrapped his arms around Remus, who stilled immediately, melting back against the taller man. The Potions Master’s hands deftly found their way beneath Remus’ robes to run across his chest, barred from skin-to-skin by the cotton of Remus’ shirt. He growled in frustration and buried his face in the crook of Remus neck, alternating between punishing bites and pleasuring licks until Remus was a mass of whimpering need and Severus was sure that if he let go, Remus would fall to the ground. But then, Severus had no intention of letting go.
He snaked one long arm around Remus’ body, deliberately brushing against the rather conspicuous bulge and to one side, left hand dipping into the right pocket, fishing the key out blindly while continuing his ministrations to Remus’ neck.
Remus snatched the key away and jammed it so forcefully into the lock that Severus was surprised the door didn’t splinter. With a savage twist, the door was open and Remus spun in Severus’ arms, drawing him inside and slamming the door shut behind them.
Remus wasted no time, flicking the window shutters closed with one wave of his wand, lighting the candles in the chamber with another. Severus didn’t bother to take in his surroundings. All he cared about was the man before him and the overwhelming desire to touch him, to assure himself that this was no illusion. Severus couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. This was very different from his ill-fated affair with Dionysus Nightly. Then, Severus had yearned after the Beater, who had accepted the affection without returning it. Now, the fire in Remus’ eyes told Severus all he needed to know. He let his walls go, just for this moment, and gave himself over to Remus’ confidence.
With deft fingers, Remus helped him out of robe and shirt and shoes and trousers, delighting in the slide of fabric from skin, enjoying it doubly when he did the same for Remus. He felt no urge to blush as Remus ran eyes and fingertips appraisingly over his body, as though he were some exquisitely rendered statue meant to be viewed with awe. He allowed himself the indulgence of drinking in the sight of Remus as well, noting the scars that crisscrossed his body, as though they formed a map that could lead him into Remus’ very soul. Wanting to follow them, find their origins, kiss them as though he could posthumously heal them.
And then there was nothing but the tumble backward into the pristine bed, sheets around them, Remus’ tanned form against Severus’ pale skin, and the pure, raging, aching need. Lying on top, cradled between Severus spread, bent legs, Remus’ tongue traced a delicate pattern against Severus’ nipple, his fingers stroking up and down his sides, following the indentation of ribs, fingertips seeming to memorize each new expanse of skin. Severus threw his head back and groaned. He wanted this, oh yes he wanted it, but now was not the time for gentle foreplay and exploring and learning. Now was the time for getting Remus inside him. And so he uttered the only appeal he’d ever made.
“Remus, please.”
Whether it was the tone of want or the use of his first name or the way Severus bucked his hips to underscore the plea, he didn’t know, but Remus took it as all the permission he needed. With a whisper of the proper spells and the heartfelt words he’d never dared say before, Remus thrust up and in and Severus gasped at the sharpness of pain bordered with most welcome pleasure as his body adjusted to Remus’ length, as he abandoned himself to the sensation of being filled completely. And the slide of body against body was too delicious, of lips pressed against tender, sensitive places and words and names barely vocalized in a rushing, gushing torrent of emotion and motion and a coming together that was just so intense and perfect and then harder and faster and sweeter and Severus came undone with a wordless cry. Remus’ hand was clenched around him, Remus’ eyes watched him, and seconds later, as the movement became more frenzied, Remus followed him over the edge and into the best kind of oblivion.
They lay together for a long time, Remus collapsed on Severus’ chest, breaths and heartbeats counting out the time in contented unison, and Severus had a moment to wonder if this was what “happy” felt like. He was fairly sure it was.
“Damn,” he said after a long moment, breaking the silence.
Remus picked his head up as though with great effort and regarded Severus suspiciously. “You can’t possibly have complaints. Or rationalizations as to why we shouldn’t repeat that.”
Severus chuckled, an unfamiliar action, and brushed the hair out of Remus’ narrowed eyes. “I just realized that you completely distracted me, Lupin. I was on my way to get a new wand. And now I’m wandless, all thanks to you.”
Remus grinned, as though he rather enjoyed the petulant tone of Severus’ voice. “I’ll do you a favour by not turning that into dirty innuendo about just how untrue that last statement was.”
Severus groaned and rolled his eyes.
Well,” Remus said evenly, “I suppose I can let you out of bed in a day or two to get a new wand. I don’t think you’ll be needing it in the immediate future, do you?”
“No, I believe I can allow myself to be defenseless awhile longer.”
Remus smiled wickedly. “I can always rescue you again, should the situation arise.”
Severus rolled his eyes. “You’ve done all the rescuing you need to, Lupin.”
“Good,” Remus said, dropping down to place a kiss on Severus’ chest. Severus squirmed against him as he licked his way up to that wonderfully sensitive spot at the base of the neck, and then he said into the skin, “Oh, by the by.”
“Mmmmm?”
“I received an owl from the Headmaster inviting me to resume teaching duties as Defense professor in September.”
“How interesting,” Severus said, feigning nonchalance. “And I do believe the quarters next to mine are vacant.”
“Convenient,” Remus observed, falling down onto his back next to Severus. “Even more so if we knock the wall down between your quarters and mine.”
“My, don’t we have big plans. Presuming quite a lot, aren’t you, Professor Lupin?”
“Quite a lot, yes.”
Severus silenced any further speculation about ideas of the future with a languorous kiss. The future would come soon enough. And that gave Severus pause, to reflect both upon the past and the present. Only one romantic regret now, of a man he shouldn’t have loved when he was young, but that was quickly fading in the glow of possibility as the werewolf curled up against him, head on Severus’ shoulder, a sigh of satisfaction on his lips. For someone who had led a life like Severus had, one fading regret was hardly cause for complaint.
Both thoroughly rescued, they drowsed in each other’s warm company before dropping off into a delicious afternoon sleep.
Fin
Date: February 7, 2005
Author: Rose_Whispers
Rating: R
Pairing: Remus/Severus
Summary: Severus encounters someone he’d rather not see which prompts Remus to come to the rescue. Pure fluff. And smut. With a teensy bit of backstory.
Word Count: 6196
A/N: My very first Remus/Severus fic. I’m in the middle of a rather dark, serious RL/SS, but this fluffy little bunny started biting at my ankle with its freakishly pointy teeth, and I had no choice but to write this story instead. My take on one of my favourite overused plot devices, with smut to finish.
Anyone interested in betaing/britpicking stories for me, let me know. I’ll squeeze you and love you and call you George and write you pairings/situations of your choice as payment.
Cross posted to Snape_Lupin, Snapish_Smut, and my own journal
At the best of times, Diagon Alley was not Severus Snape’s favourite place. Today, though, it was particularly irksome. Only two weeks before the start of classes, only three months after the fall of the Dark Lord, and the busy wizarding corridor was stuffed full of even more people than usual, bumping and jostling and touching Severus at an alarming rate. To top it all off, the sun was shining down more merrily than one of Albus Dumbledore’s twinkliest smiles. Out of common courtesy to his already foul disposition, the weather could have been gloomy and raining, but no, it was determinedly sunny. Severus took it as a personal affront.
But he had no choice. His wand had been malfunctioning since the end of the war, since that climactic battle between him and Narcissa Malfoy, the one who had first lured him to the Death Eaters all those years ago. This morning, the wand had finally waved a white flag of surrender, sputtered, and exploded in his hand when he’d tried to conjure himself some tea. Despite the Dark Lord’s demise, Severus was not about to go even a day unarmed. So here he was, in the midst of throngs of people whose moods and clothes were far too bright, pushing against the tide of families and friends toward Ollivander’s. Damn the wandmaker for not simply owling a wand to Hogwarts as he’d requested.
At the very least, some twisted part of Severus’ brain was taking cruel delight in the way the children and even some of the younger adults scattered in his wake. Imposing Master of Potions, Dungeons, and Detentions that he was, Severus Snape looked like he could start taking house points here in the middle of August.
He didn’t make it to the wand shop before his day grew worse. It did so in the form of one-time star Beater for the Chudley Cannons Dionysus Nightly, a man with charcoal eyes, full lips, a six-foot, well-muscled frame, and an arrogant sneer that rivaled Severus’ own. The Potions Master hadn’t seen him in years, and certainly didn’t want to change that now. With a snarl of surprised frustration, he sidestepped into the closest shop. And immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Welcome to Little Miss Witch,” an oversized, enchanted rose-coloured teapot trilled. “Your one-stop shop for everything your precious little witch could ask for.”
“I’m in hell”, Severus muttered. He could already feel a headache beginning to take root somewhere behind his eye sockets.
A rainbow of pastel colours undulated across the shimmering walls, accompanied by the occasional image of a prancing unicorn. The display cases were crammed full of books, clothing and toys that seemed made of spun sugar. Pink sparkly spun sugar. The air was filled with the high pitched chatter of excited little girls and their even more excited parents. So this, Severus mused, explained children like the Patil twins and Lavender Brown. And possibly the Creevey brothers. He wanted to charge the hell out of the place, but that would mean running into Dionysus Nightly. And Dionysus Nightly was even more unpleasant than this store, albeit in an entirely different way.
I am not hiding, Severus told himself firmly, doing his best to blend into a corner and succeeding about as well as an acromantula at a baby shower. I have faced down Death Eaters bent on revenge. I have suffered the rage of the Dark Lord at his most displeased. I fear nothing. I am simply avoiding an acrimonious situation, nothing more.
Affirmation thus confirmed, Severus feigned interest in a pile of phoenix plushies amassed in a large glass bin. Periodically, one of the toys would burst into a glittering gold puff of smoke and reemerge as a putridly ugly, squawking baby phoenix plushie. He fought the urge to transfigure the entire monstrosity into a howling heap of unpotted mandrake roots.
“They’re so cute!” one miniature witch cooed, reaching into the bin. Severus’ headache grew steadily worse as he told himself that it was wrong to hex a four-year-old. Then he realized the argument was moot anyway because he didn’t have a wand. That predicament was why he was here in the first place.
“Enough!” he told himself. He’d come for a wand. A wand he would get. Everything else could be damned. Stepping into the street once more, he was actually grateful for the sunlight. At least the air outside wasn’t full of psychedelic sparkles. He made to continue his trek toward Ollivander’s when a muscular arm landed around his shoulders and an entirely too self-confident Beater fell into step beside him. Clearly, he’d been waiting outside the shop.
“Sev’rus,” the man rumbled.
Severus kept walking, fighting the urge to throw Dionysus’ arm off him. It was a battle that he’d lose without a wand.
“Now, now, Sev’rus, sullen silence isn’t very becoming.”
“I find myself with very little to say to you, Dionysus,” Severus ground out.
“How’ve you been?” The Beater slowed to a stop in the middle of the road, halting the agitated Potions Master’s gait as well. “It’s been years since I saw you last.”
“A circumstance I was more than happy with,” Severus spat, shrugging the arm off his shoulders. He spun around and glared at the man before him, the man who he’d fallen in love with fifteen years before. The Quidditch MVP could have had anyone, but he’d chosen the youthful Severus. Upon reflection, Severus knew he’d chosen a great many other young men as well.
Severus Snape wasn’t thought of as a passionate man by his students, who only ever saw him in peevish-and-often-enraged professor mode. His desires could be stirred up, though, and once awakened he became as much a slave to passion as he normally was to professionalism. He had only two romantic regrets. One was for a man he’d realized too late that he could very easily love, who he’d tormented ceaselessly this past year, who had disappeared after the war. The other was embodied by the man in front of him. In the first instance, he regretted not being involved with someone. In this case, he bitterly regretted his involvement. Yet another episode in a life of pain and betrayal.
Dionysus leered at Severus, reading just how uncomfortable the younger man was. The years had been kind to the Beater. Though he must have been over fifty, he and Severus looked about the same age.
“Here to pick up a new round of gullible young men, Dionysus?” Severus drawled, doing his best to regain control of a situation he’d never controlled in the first place. “I think I saw a group of third years by Flourish and Blott’s. Or perhaps you’re still too busy hiding behind your celebrity status so you don’t have actually have to do something to save the world.”
“Both, really,” Dionysus replied, matching the drawl and adding a hint of wickedness.
That wickedness had been Severus’ one weakness throughout his twenties, as a death eater and as a double agent for the Order. Whenever Dionysus had called, Severus had come. In every sense of the word. Even when he hated the man, even when he knew he was being used.
Balancing wicked with antagonistic, Severus continued smoothly. “It’s such a shame you were trounced so exhaustively in your retirement game. Seven hundred and forty points to ten. And that last bludger you took to the back of your head. How very fortunate that whatever brain matter you possess didn’t leak out.”
The cinder eyes narrowed and Dionysus took a step closer, invading his erstwhile lover’s personal space in a way that was not at all agreeable. “Ah, so you’ve been watching me. How flattering.”
Severus gave himself a mental kick for sounding like he’d been following the man’s career. “I only heard about it afterward,” he said carelessly. “Though I made sure to obtain a photograph of that bludger blow. I found it more than entertaining.”
“At least I had a line of your so-called gullible young men to... comfort me afterward, didn’t I? I’m sleeping with a lovely eighteen year old Scottish lad named Angus at the mo’. I imagine you taught him. Potions, I mean. Tell me, Severus, between ‘saving the world’ and being a Hogwarts babysitter, how’s your love life?”
The Potions Master felt the blood rush unbidden to his cheeks. He’d never defined himself by his relationships or lack thereof, but in the face of Dionysus’ knowing smirk, he felt a level of inadequacy he hadn’t experienced in years. Sputtering, he was trying to think of a suitable response that included Dionysus’ possible STDs, failing stamina, and
lack of spine matching other flaccid areas of his body when he felt for the second time that day a strong arm settle across his shoulders. Only all of his espionage-honed instincts kept him from betraying his surprise. He nearly lost it when the owner of that arm spoke in a most familiar voice.
“There you are, love. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Remus Lupin. Severus was able to swivel his head enough to take in his former adversary. He looked tanned and healthy, the scar tissue blending into the rest of the skin. His hair was that same silvering golden, though longer and tied into a loose, messy ponytail, and his eyes were twinkling in a way that would give Dumbledore a run for his galleons. Severus couldn’t process the sudden appearance and proximity of the werewolf. He tried to answer, but no sound emerged. Remus took advantage of the silence to drop a kiss on one sallow cheek and whisper, “play along.”
Severus found his voice at last, though it nearly disappeared again when Remus traced the line of his jawbone tenderly. “Where have I been? I’ve been hunting for you. You know I hate traipsing about this infernal place.”
“I know. I do apologize.” Remus turned a predatory glare on Dionysus Nightly. “And you are?”
Severus was shocked at the protective tone that dripped with jealousy and possessiveness. Remus hooked an arm around the astonished Potions Master’s neck and planted his palm on his chest, splaying the fingers out to cover as much area as possible. Remus was several inches shorter, leaving Severus no choice but to lean into the werewolf, feeling the heat radiating from him. He knew the pose was screaming “Mine! Hands off!” He cleared his throat uneasily, unused to seeing this side of the amiable ex-professor and certainly unaccustomed to being so very, very close. “Ease up. He’s just an old friend, love.”
The last word felt unfamiliar on his tongue, except in phrases such as “I would love to see you scraping dragon dung from the bottom of these one thousand cauldrons with your teeth, Potter”, but if Remus noticed how thickly he said it, he didn’t let on. Instead, he dug his fingers into the fabric of Severus’ robes and idly caressed his chest. The Potions Master had to suppress a shiver.
“Well, Sev’rus,” Dionysus said, but didn’t seem capable of continuing.
“I do believe it’s time to be going,” Remus growled, doing a remarkable impression of an irate Norwegian Ridgeback. “Good day.”
Remus swept Severus away toward the Leaky Cauldron, saying in a voice that carried back to the stunned Beater, “You know how I get, Sev. I don’t like sharing you.”
Twenty paces more, and Remus released his iron grip, letting his arm slide down to catch Severus’ hand loosely in his. “That was fun,” he said with a wolfish grin. “Hold on in case he’s still watching.”
“Fun?” Severus spluttered, enjoying the tangle of fingers in spite of himself.
“I had no idea you’d been with a Quidditch pro. I’m jealous. You know, we had a Dionysus Nightly poster up in our dorm in the seventh year. I doubt my friends had any idea that I just liked to look at him. Nasty bugger though, isn’t he?”
Severus’ mouth opened and closed several times before he managed to snatch his hand away and turn a high-powered scowl on the other man. “Where the hell have you been? You vanish for three months and then show up here and-”
“Rescue you?” Remus supplied helpfully. He reached out again and reclaimed the recalcitrant hand, letting his fingers run over the pallid knuckle before twining with the Potions Master’s.
“Rescue me? Rescue me?” Severus practically shrieked. He took a long gasp to get himself back under control.
“Your expression howled ‘I’m being trapped and tortured by my terrible ex’, Severus,” the wolf said evenly. “Pretending to be your jealous boyfriend was the least I could do. After everything.”
Severus was aware of the stares they were garnering, and his fury deepened. “So glad I had the mighty Lupin to the rescue, then. Now unhand me or you’ll find yourself unable to walk until the next full moon!”
A gleeful grin split Lupin’s unassumingly handsome features. “Is that a promise?”
For the second time that afternoon, Severus’ pale skin was stained with a crimson blush. “I meant I would hex you, you fool.”
“Of course.” Remus, still firmly not letting go of Severus’ hand, looked thoughtful for a moment. Severus was severely disconcerted by the utter confidence the man was exuding. He was used to modest, peaceable Lupin, not grinning, showy Lupin. He couldn’t imagine what change had brought this on. Or why he liked it quite so much.
You know exactly why you like it, Severus Snape, his conscience told him.
Fuck off, you. Now’s not the time to start asserting yourself, Severus snarked back at it. He was aware that Remus was still watching him, as though he could tell exactly what was going on in Severus’ head. An amused grin spread across his face.
“You know, I imagine he’s following us. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive.”
“For god’s sake, Lupin, what are you going on about?”
Before Severus knew what was happening, the shorter man had released his hand and reached upward, catching Severus’ chin and holding him still before curving upward to capture his lips in the lightest brush of a kiss. Severus’ inky eyes widened in complete shock as they locked with Remus’ sunny, laughing gaze. Severus tried to jerk back but arms wrapped around him and fingers laced through his hair, the sinewy body fitting so flawlessly against his own that his breath caught. Remus seemed to take that as all the invitation he needed. He drew Severus’ head back down and caught him in a bruising, confident kiss, a breathtaking growl emanating from deep inside the werewolf. Something long buried snapped in Severus’ head and his lips parted, allowing Remus’ tongue total access. Severus didn’t know if the raw need that drove the kiss came from him or from Remus, but he moaned in spite of himself, a tiny sound of urgency at the back of his throat, and buried his hands in the wolf’s hair, tearing it out of its ponytail. Remus’ nails scraped at the nape of Severus’ neck as the arm around his waist pressed them together, as though Remus had to have as little space as possible between them. The delightful contrast of the friction of a hard body against the sweet suppleness of Remus’ lips and tongue threatened to intoxicate Severus, who at last pulled back, dizzy. He took in the sight before him: the wild hair, the shining, swollen lips, the flushed cheeks, the eyes wide with desire.
“So that was... just for show,” Severus managed to gasp, feeling suddenly uncomfortable being the subject of that knowing, searching gaze.
“Of course,” Remus replied, breath ragged, eyes flashing. “In case Monsieur Nightly is spying.”
“And not for any other reason,” Severus continued, unwilling to take a step back, to lose the delicious heat between them.
“One never knows,” Remus said enigmatically.
Severus tried to muster up a disdainful sneer, but he knew it was closer to a gaping stare. He hadn’t been this close to the werewolf since the final battle. He maintained as graceful a silence as possible, lost in Remus’ eyes and his own memories of a few months past. Death Eaters scattered throughout the Forbidden Forest. The Dark Lord’s army of wizards and giants, Dementors and Lethifolds closing in on the last bastion of the Order, Hogwarts Castle itself. Curses flashing through the air, the sound of screams so thick they almost became a background noise to be ignored. Fallen enemies, fallen comrades. And Severus had seen the murderous green light of MacNair’s Avada Kedavra surging toward Lupin, whose back was toward it. Without thinking, the Potions Master had launched himself through the air and dragged the smaller man to the ground, rolling them both a few feet before coming to a disheveled stop. The smell of incinerated ozone sizzled above their heads as they lay in a tangle in the dirt, Severus on top, nose-to-nose with the last Marauder standing.
“Avada,” Severus had hissed, trying desperately to explain his foolish action, the enhanced awareness of the torso below him sending a strange thrill through his body.
The shock on Remus’ face was replaced for a split second by something else, something far deeper, and he’d reached tentatively upward, touching Severus’ cheek in wonder. They stayed frozen for an instant, the air between them more electric than the energy of the killing curse zinging above them and Severus knew, knew how much he’d missed with the man below him because he’d been too stubborn to release his hatred.
But someone shouted for help, and that tenuous, ephemeral moment slipped away. They rolled apart and back to their feet, diving into the fray once more. And Lupin had disappeared immediately after the Dark Lord’s fall, just after he’d been assured that Potter was alive.
Only to reappear now, like a rabbit out of a bloody hat. Two regrets in one day. One man he wished he’d never loved and one he realized he would love all the rest of his days. Who had subsequently taken off to parts unknown for three months. Clearly, Remus either hadn’t interpreted that moment as Severus had, or else he hadn’t liked its implications and had therefore left. Either way, Severus Snape could take a hint. But for now he knew he had to say something, or else step out of this exquisite circle of arms and acknowledge it was all a sham. He wasn’t quite ready to yet. He would allow himself this one fleeting, guilty pleasure.
“Where the hell have you been?” he hissed, summoning up as much vitriol as he could manage. He was overly aware of the hand run slowly up and down his spine. He fought hard not to sigh with pleasure, like some blasted neglected housecat.
“Albus asked me to help track down some of the Death Eaters still on the loose. As I’m sure you were doing as well. I had to remain incognito. Afterwards, I went to Beauxbatons, to help the survivors of the attacks there,” Remus said, voice distracted, whether from memories or something else, Severus couldn’t say. “I agreed to go immediately because I thought I was losing my mind.”
“Ah,” Severus said, as if that explained everything.
Remus grinned that knowing grin again. “I thought I might have seen some spark in you. Something that said you might actually... care. For me. But I managed to convince myself that I was imagining things in the heat of battle. You’d have rescued anyone from that curse. I was reading too much into it.”
“I see.” It was ridiculously difficult to maintain a neutral tone of voice when Remus was bloody looking at him like that, as if he was about to pounce.
“You don’t see,” Remus said with a rueful shake of his head, taking a step back and letting his hands rest lightly on Severus’ shoulders. “This past year, I was coming to grips with certain realizations about you. And it was as if you could tell that my feelings were changing, you git. It was as if you were purposefully escalating your hostility toward me. Like I was your only target, and you were funneling all of your hatred into me. So of course, when I thought that perhaps I saw something else in you, I told myself I must be mistaken. And I knew that I had to get away from you as quickly as possible, or risk deluding myself further. And embarrassing myself.”
“I... can hardly blame you for coming to that conclusion,” Severus ground out. He knew that he’d spent the last year being particularly nasty toward Remus. He’d never stopped to ask himself where the walls he was building of gibes and taunts, idle threats and meaningless loathing were coming from. He tried to turn away, suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin and under Remus’ steady hands.
But Remus wouldn’t let him go. He followed, staying firmly in Severus’ personal space in a manner similar to Dionysus Nightly’s but effecting an entirely different response from Severus. Molten eyes burned through Severus’ armor to his very core. The Potions Master felt his heart rate double. “Lupin-”
“Besides,” Remus continued, as if completely unaware that Severus had spoken, “you threw yourself off me pretty damned fast after I touched your cheek.”
It took Severus a moment to process this. Especially after Remus lifted one hand up to reproduce the gesture. Severus tried his best not to lean into the touch and muttered sulkily, “I didn’t throw myself off you, you idiot. I heard someone shout for help. What did you want, me to stay there in the heat of battle and snog you?”
Remus chuckled. “It only just occurred to me that perhaps I’d overreacted. After our young friend Harry paid me a visit this morning and told me the strangest thing. Would you like to know what he told me?”
Severus gave what he hoped was an indifferent shrug.
“He told me that after I disappeared, you went looking for me. That you spent a month hunting me down. That you even demanded of him and of the headmaster where you might find me.”
Those relentless eyes bore into Severus’ and he swallowed hard. True, he had. He’d needed to know what that moment had meant. He’d been willing to face his fears head on, but the supposedly brave Gryffindor had eluded him.
“Dumbledore refused to answer me,” Severus said, the betrayal creeping into his tone. “He said you were where you needed to be, and that I should give you time.”
“And Harry?”
Severus grimaced. Potter. He’d gone to Potter and asked, as nonchalantly as possible, where the werepuppy had gone to lick his wounds after the battle. And after claiming not to know, the half-witted whelp had gone running to Lupin.
“When you saved my life, Severus, I thought I imagined that you’d done it because you cared for me.” Remus shook his ruefully. “But I convinced myself it couldn’t be so. I knew that after all the times you’ve demonstrated your total contempt for me, you could feel nothing else. More so after that last year. And yet I was engulfed by the knowledge that I... Severus, I couldn’t stay here, stay close to you, and live with your scorn. And so I ran. I made myself useful, but I stayed far away from Hogwarts. You’d affirmed time and again just how much you hated me. Or at least, I thought you had.”
Severus avoided the hopeful eyes. “I don’t sodding hate you.” Why was this so difficult?
“Prove it,” Remus growled.
Severus’ eyes widened. Baited by the challenging tone and the upturned lips and his own fiery hunger, his fingers clutched at the rough material of Remus’ robes and hauled the smaller man toward him. He whispered his lips over Remus’ cheekbones, teasingly along the jaw line, before catching Remus’ mouth and gliding inside, tasting green tea and desire. Remus’ tongue rose up to meet his, curling about it and stroking it invitingly, tantalizingly. Some small part of his brain gasped its amazement that the man in his arms was quivering with pleasure. The rest of him was concentrating on the taste of Remus and the feel of Remus’ searching hands trying to find their way beneath his robes. He pulled back with a little noise of loss, the rational part of him reminding him severely that they were still in the middle of Diagon Alley. The stares and smirks of the people watching them with open interest brought him back to his senses. Somewhat. The look on Remus’ face was rather successfully countering any attempt on Severus’ part to give a damn.
“I’d thought when you saved me that I understood you at last, Severus. I thought I saw why you were being so especially nasty to me. You’ve been feeling this for awhile, haven’t you? Just like I have. And you didn’t know what to do about it. So you tormented me.”
“Are you quite finished with your pseudo-psychological analysis?” The imperious tone was the same one Severus used when demanding an answer to a trick question on a practical examination.
Remus leaned in and grazed his lips along Severus’ jawbone, ghosted his teeth against the pulse point of his neck, took the gentlest taste just below the collar. He breathed in the scent of the highly aroused professor before pulling back and smiling with a knowing look in his eyes. “When Harry told me that you’d actually gone looking for me, I knew that it must be true. That you must care for me, and I talked myself into believing otherwise. You’d have never come after me if you hadn’t felt something, too. I came back absolutely sure of what I’d find.”
“And that is?”
“You. I want you, Severus. Now. And don’t deny that you don’t want me just as much.”
“Cocky bugger, aren’t you?” Severus said, tone all but indicating that this was some onerous business transaction. “Well, I rescued you once. You have since rescued me. I suggest we call it even and start afresh.” His eyes glittered devilishly. To emphasize his point, he swooped down and claimed another kiss.
Remarkably, they managed to stumble into the Leaky Cauldron and halfway up the stairs toward Remus’ room before either gave in to temptation. Or rather, before Remus took the opportunity to press Severus’ body against the wall on the first landing, to cover it with his own and cover Severus’ protesting mouth with quieting lips, dragging tongue against tongue, nipping the thin bottom lip, kissing his way down the long, elegant neck just as quickly as he could undo the myriad buttons hindering his path. Severus writhed against Remus, unused to this blissful sensory overload, untouched for so long. His darkest dreams had included such moments, but he’d never admitted them upon awakening. And now the werewolf had found that spot in the hollow of Severus’ throat, and his eyes rolled back into his head and he practically purred his delight, feeling Remus’ lips form a smile before going back to the important task of kissing and licking that sensitive spot. Severus’ body was thrumming with an energy he’d never experienced before, a rightness mixed with the wickedness of such sensual pleasure.
“I took a room on the second floor this morning,” Remus moaned between caresses.
“Awfully sure of yourself,” Severus panted, tilting his head to give Remus more access.
“I’ve wanted you for so long, so long, Severus,” Remus gasped, running his deft tongue along the curve of Severus’ ear. “When I realized you wanted it too, I couldn’t get here fast enough. I think Harry’s still at Beauxbatons wondering if I’m going to show up for lunch.”
“Do you never shut up, Lupin?” Severus demanded haughtily, his normal cool replaced by an irrepressible heat.
In response, Remus lowered his head and bit down hard at the delicate flesh of Severus’ exposed neck. “Must get you out of these clothes,” Remus muttered. “Got to see what it is you keep hidden under all of these layers.”
“Then you might want to get out of the corridor,” Severus observed, breath hitching as Remus’ teeth threatened to break skin. “Good lord, man, ooooh.”
Remus released him and hands wrapped in Severus’, they fought and shifted for the more dominant position as they staggered up the second set of stairs. Remus caught his foot halfway up and fell, dragging Severus down with him, unwilling to break the contact. He rolled them so that Severus’ lank body was below him, draped across the stairs. Remus took the opportunity to straddle the other man, to feel the length of Severus’ hardness pressed against his own. He began a slow, rocking rhythm, watching the incredible transformation of Severus’ face, watched all the closed-off emotion begin to surface. Severus’ surprisingly strong hands came up and grasped Remus’ hips, bucking upward, taking control of the motion, keeping it measured and steady, though the wildness in the Potions Master’s eyes betrayed any pretense of calm. Remus bowed down and ran his tongue as lightly as he could across Severus’ bottom lip. Severus shivered with pleasure before capturing the tongue and pulling it into his mouth, urging the rest of Remus down into a scorching kiss. Remus moaned, which made Severus moan.
Severus never found out just how far they would have gotten on the stairs, because at that moment the thunder of footsteps from somewhere above them forced them apart. Remus jumped guiltily off Severus and extended a sheepish hand toward him, tugging him upward off the stairs, and they made it the rest of the way up the staircase before they passed the source of the commotion, two members of the cleaning staff. Severus thought he could truly go crazy from lack of touching Remus for even that short amount of time.
Thankfully, Remus turned to the first door to his left and began fumbling for his room key. Severus took advantage of being behind and wrapped his arms around Remus, who stilled immediately, melting back against the taller man. The Potions Master’s hands deftly found their way beneath Remus’ robes to run across his chest, barred from skin-to-skin by the cotton of Remus’ shirt. He growled in frustration and buried his face in the crook of Remus neck, alternating between punishing bites and pleasuring licks until Remus was a mass of whimpering need and Severus was sure that if he let go, Remus would fall to the ground. But then, Severus had no intention of letting go.
He snaked one long arm around Remus’ body, deliberately brushing against the rather conspicuous bulge and to one side, left hand dipping into the right pocket, fishing the key out blindly while continuing his ministrations to Remus’ neck.
Remus snatched the key away and jammed it so forcefully into the lock that Severus was surprised the door didn’t splinter. With a savage twist, the door was open and Remus spun in Severus’ arms, drawing him inside and slamming the door shut behind them.
Remus wasted no time, flicking the window shutters closed with one wave of his wand, lighting the candles in the chamber with another. Severus didn’t bother to take in his surroundings. All he cared about was the man before him and the overwhelming desire to touch him, to assure himself that this was no illusion. Severus couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. This was very different from his ill-fated affair with Dionysus Nightly. Then, Severus had yearned after the Beater, who had accepted the affection without returning it. Now, the fire in Remus’ eyes told Severus all he needed to know. He let his walls go, just for this moment, and gave himself over to Remus’ confidence.
With deft fingers, Remus helped him out of robe and shirt and shoes and trousers, delighting in the slide of fabric from skin, enjoying it doubly when he did the same for Remus. He felt no urge to blush as Remus ran eyes and fingertips appraisingly over his body, as though he were some exquisitely rendered statue meant to be viewed with awe. He allowed himself the indulgence of drinking in the sight of Remus as well, noting the scars that crisscrossed his body, as though they formed a map that could lead him into Remus’ very soul. Wanting to follow them, find their origins, kiss them as though he could posthumously heal them.
And then there was nothing but the tumble backward into the pristine bed, sheets around them, Remus’ tanned form against Severus’ pale skin, and the pure, raging, aching need. Lying on top, cradled between Severus spread, bent legs, Remus’ tongue traced a delicate pattern against Severus’ nipple, his fingers stroking up and down his sides, following the indentation of ribs, fingertips seeming to memorize each new expanse of skin. Severus threw his head back and groaned. He wanted this, oh yes he wanted it, but now was not the time for gentle foreplay and exploring and learning. Now was the time for getting Remus inside him. And so he uttered the only appeal he’d ever made.
“Remus, please.”
Whether it was the tone of want or the use of his first name or the way Severus bucked his hips to underscore the plea, he didn’t know, but Remus took it as all the permission he needed. With a whisper of the proper spells and the heartfelt words he’d never dared say before, Remus thrust up and in and Severus gasped at the sharpness of pain bordered with most welcome pleasure as his body adjusted to Remus’ length, as he abandoned himself to the sensation of being filled completely. And the slide of body against body was too delicious, of lips pressed against tender, sensitive places and words and names barely vocalized in a rushing, gushing torrent of emotion and motion and a coming together that was just so intense and perfect and then harder and faster and sweeter and Severus came undone with a wordless cry. Remus’ hand was clenched around him, Remus’ eyes watched him, and seconds later, as the movement became more frenzied, Remus followed him over the edge and into the best kind of oblivion.
They lay together for a long time, Remus collapsed on Severus’ chest, breaths and heartbeats counting out the time in contented unison, and Severus had a moment to wonder if this was what “happy” felt like. He was fairly sure it was.
“Damn,” he said after a long moment, breaking the silence.
Remus picked his head up as though with great effort and regarded Severus suspiciously. “You can’t possibly have complaints. Or rationalizations as to why we shouldn’t repeat that.”
Severus chuckled, an unfamiliar action, and brushed the hair out of Remus’ narrowed eyes. “I just realized that you completely distracted me, Lupin. I was on my way to get a new wand. And now I’m wandless, all thanks to you.”
Remus grinned, as though he rather enjoyed the petulant tone of Severus’ voice. “I’ll do you a favour by not turning that into dirty innuendo about just how untrue that last statement was.”
Severus groaned and rolled his eyes.
Well,” Remus said evenly, “I suppose I can let you out of bed in a day or two to get a new wand. I don’t think you’ll be needing it in the immediate future, do you?”
“No, I believe I can allow myself to be defenseless awhile longer.”
Remus smiled wickedly. “I can always rescue you again, should the situation arise.”
Severus rolled his eyes. “You’ve done all the rescuing you need to, Lupin.”
“Good,” Remus said, dropping down to place a kiss on Severus’ chest. Severus squirmed against him as he licked his way up to that wonderfully sensitive spot at the base of the neck, and then he said into the skin, “Oh, by the by.”
“Mmmmm?”
“I received an owl from the Headmaster inviting me to resume teaching duties as Defense professor in September.”
“How interesting,” Severus said, feigning nonchalance. “And I do believe the quarters next to mine are vacant.”
“Convenient,” Remus observed, falling down onto his back next to Severus. “Even more so if we knock the wall down between your quarters and mine.”
“My, don’t we have big plans. Presuming quite a lot, aren’t you, Professor Lupin?”
“Quite a lot, yes.”
Severus silenced any further speculation about ideas of the future with a languorous kiss. The future would come soon enough. And that gave Severus pause, to reflect both upon the past and the present. Only one romantic regret now, of a man he shouldn’t have loved when he was young, but that was quickly fading in the glow of possibility as the werewolf curled up against him, head on Severus’ shoulder, a sigh of satisfaction on his lips. For someone who had led a life like Severus had, one fading regret was hardly cause for complaint.
Both thoroughly rescued, they drowsed in each other’s warm company before dropping off into a delicious afternoon sleep.
Fin