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For as long as Harriet can remember, it's always been her and Mum against the world. Always.
Death Eaters breach the safety of her home—and that's not going to change.
Harriet Potter is 14 years old in this story.
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Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
19 May 2025
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Amaaazing Fem Harry, such a touching AU, must re-read!
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For the year Remus Lupin worked at Hogwarts, Severus Snape faithfully brewed his Wolfsbane.
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- Part 1 of Launch
Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
07 Mar 2025
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The nominator wishes to nominate Part 1 of this series "Launch"
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The goblet looked unappetising, puffing pungent blue smoke, and it had nothing on the face above it. The rancorous curl of Severus Snape’s lips around crooked, yellowed teeth could give a troll a run for its money.
“Thank you,” Remus said as pleasantly as possible, even as he longed to pick up the nearest quill and poke out both the man’s eyes. “I know it takes quite a lot of time and effort to brew this.”
“Perhaps as much time and effort as persuading a Boggart to dress me in women's clothing?” Severus’s mouth flattened so that he could hiss the words through clenched teeth; he drifted closer, goblet clutched to his robed chest. Remus rubbed his nose to stifle the smirk that the memory threatened.
“I don’t know why you’re so bothered by it. Green has always been your colour.”
Severus’s eyes flashed, but he said nothing, only extended his hands in stuttered motion. Remus took the goblet and peered down into the indigo depths. Against the chilled gold surface, his fingers tingled.
“I’ve waited years for this,” Remus said with a small laugh, “and now I’m terrified to drink it.”
“Lupin, quaking in his boots,” Severus sneered. “Some things never do change.”
Remus lifted the goblet and met the other man’s eyes as he drained it. God, it tasted awful—worse than the Firewhiskey shots Sirius used to pour down his throat—a hundred times worse—
Remus bit his tongue against the disgusted face he wanted to make and passed the empty goblet back.
“See you tomorrow,” he said to Severus’s back.
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Remus, Severus, and Sirius are sent on a mission to retrieve a valuable artefact. They end up stuck in a ritual cave and there's only one way out.
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Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
28 Feb 2025
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Black snorted. “Very romantic. No specifics then?”
Severus closed the book with a snap. “Do you require step-by-step instructions? Just go ahead and do it already. I bet you’re dying to get your hands on Lupin.”
Black fixed Severus with a shrewd look. “What’s your rush, are you that eager to watch?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Severus replied. “I just want to get out of here. You’ll use Muffliato on me and I’ll turn away.”
Black considered the idea for a moment. “What do you think?” he asked Lupin.
“It seems like a serviceable plan.” Lupin shrugged his shoulders. “I’d rather not think too much, to be honest. If you all consent then let’s go through with it.”
“A serviceable plan.” There was no inflection in Black’s tone. He pursed his lips. “We can figure something else out. Maybe Snape and I can fuck,” he suggested as if it had only just occurred to him.
“No,” Severus said instantly. “I’m not touching you with a ten-foot broomstick.”
“And why not? Remus and I are friends whereas you and I have nothing to lose.” Black raised his thumb. “We’re both inclined that way, whereas Remus tends to go for women.” He raised his index finger. “I hear hate-fucking can be fun.” He raised his middle finger and grinned.
“Lupin is not-” Severus started but Lupin threw him a warning glance that made him pause. Black was evidently unaware that some months after McKinnon’s death, Lupin had fallen into Severus’ bed in search of comfort from someone who wouldn’t look at him with pity. They’d kept it going for a while but Severus had ended things abruptly upon noticing Black’s little crush, figuring the two would soon end up together. “Lupin can make his own decisions.”
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Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
28 Feb 2025
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They fumble in the light. He passes Sirius a plate in the morning, and it's too easy to drop, fingers shaking and slicked with the distance. There's no eye contact in the space where Severus hands him the cup, steaming with his brewed humanity. When they pass in the hallway, even the tension is steeped with bitter ineptitude; there's an awkward tang under his tongue when Sirius reaches for his arm, and seems to miss it, by only a few inches.
He can't find his own face, in the mirror. His fingers trace it blindly; the morning bleeds out the places where he knows his scars are.
They don't even fit where they used to clash so well, he realizes. Fights too quickly turn to desperation, harsh blood welling up in their mouths, and his own words – attempting to be conciliatory – now sound too much like commands. Bad dog, he thinks, before he can stop himself. Stupid dog, stupid Sirius, stupid stupid stupid. Shut up, he thinks, sometimes, but he never knows who he's talking to. He feels out of order, stretched into dusty-lit hallways where he doesn't belong, anymore. And Sirius is too quick to snap, lying broken in the sunlight, and everything's laid out too clear. Stubble too dark, and cheeks too thin, and mouth too twisted with anxiety. He sometimes sees Sirius, sitting at the table in the kitchen in mid-afternoon, when the world is soft and buttery, and the creaks of the House are connected to their bones. And Sirius looks half-focused, elbows and long legs jutting out at odd angles, hair wet-dark. He is something hunched and ugly, unclear and melting into the background.
There is an element of uncontrollability. Because it is all Orders, because it is all order, because they are prescribed and they perform and sometimes they have to break out from where they are, but there's nothing left, nowhere to go, he realizes, when he sees Sirius ravage at the remainders of his life. Sirius tries, but there's nowhere left that isn't spread too far open to let him hide the bits he needs to.
Severus hardly even bothers, he thinks, to appear when it's not appropriate.
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For the Lupin-Snape Cliché fest: "Trapped together on the night of the full moon, mate or die."
Severus sat up abruptly, and then collapsed back on the floor from the strain. "Where are we, Lupin? It looks like...." He turned his head very carefully and took in the room. "It looks like a tawdry honeymoon suite," he said finally.
"There's a whirlpool bath," Remus confirmed.
Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
28 Feb 2025
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"Have you noticed what this room doesn't have?" Remus pointed at the walls. "No door." Severus blinked at him to go on, and Remus sighed. "Do you remember anything about last night, say, after you took your shirt off?"
"Ah, wah... hah?"
That was a definite snicker. "Do you remember Moody and Potter singing 'I Got You, Babe' a capella?"
"Ack."
"Do you remember throwing your shirtless self over the worktable, knocking me backwards into a stack of unwashed cauldrons? Which fell on top of us, while you were trying to choke me? So that my only escape was to shove you off, except that you dragged me with you under the table? Where several people, including Moody's clawed foot, kicked us until we were hexed into submission? That's the last thing I remember," he added darkly, glaring down at Severus. "So it's all your fault." He waved a long roll of parchment dramatically in the air. "We've been left a message. Shall I read it to you?"
"No."
"'Dear Thick-Headed Idiot and Offensive Prat'--I think Offensive Prat is you--'Having been exposed once too often to the--'" Remus choked on the words "--'suppressed, smoldering sexual passions that you both deny, have decided that I cannot take it anymore. I capital-R-Require you to release these demons of ravening lust. You have enough food for 5 days. Only love will set you free. Signed, NT.'"
Severus pulled himself into a dignified crawl. "Where's the toilet, Lupin?"
"Hah. That was my reaction, too."
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The God of Things as They Ought to Be by busaikko for Argosy
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
25 Jul 2006
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A bit of feel-good post-HBP Snupin fun. Remus finally decides what he wants; now, can he convince Severus?
Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
28 Feb 2025
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"You should take some of these with you for your affiliates."
"Tacky pendant keychains?"
"When you push this little lever, the girl gets fucked up the arse."
"I'm sure the Canadian werewolves would be very impressed, but I shall resist. Isn't it lunchtime?"
"Why, thank you for inviting me, I suppose you have the means to pay?"
Remus grinned and pulled a hand from his pocket, full to bursting with glittering yen: five hundreds, hundreds, fifties. He poured it back in slowly: it jingled like bells. "You always did like the sound of money, I remember that."
"Spare me the intimacies, Lupin."
"How did I forget, that's another of the things we don't talk about."
Severus poked the elevator button savagely. "You're deliberately trying to ruin my appetite and save yourself the expense, aren't you?"
"You have me pegged," Remus said, and held the elevator doors open for Severus. "You always could read me like a book."
"Fuck you, Lupin," Severus said. "Fuck you."
The elevator man's eyes flickered between them uneasily, and in the glass walls Remus' mocking smile reflected ad infinitum. Remus leant close, still smirking, and Severus stiffened as if braced for a blow, or a lewd comment, but Remus merely breathed out "anytime" and then pulled back.
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Where will all that anger go?
Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
28 Feb 2025
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"So." Snape stared at the man on his doormat. With a suitcase. "Come to make amends, Lupin?"
Teeth, too many of them to be called a smile. "No. I've come to make you suffer. Personally." Lupin shoved Snape inside, somehow shutting the door behind him. He glanced around the flat once, predatorily, and then walked with long, knowing strides back towards the bedroom.
Snape had his wand out and would not lower himself to stalk after Lupin spluttering indignation. He took a deep breath, and then another, before walking down the corridor, making his boot heels a threatening staccato.
Lupin had the suitcase open and was moving his clothing into Snape's wardrobe. Snape sucked his breath in as the rage screamed like a cyclone in his head.
"Expeliarmus," Lupin said over his shoulder. "Accio Severus' wand." It snapped into his outstretched hand and disappeared. Sleight of hand, Snape thought dismissively. Lupin was a tricky bastard.
Which was why the buttons on his shirt were slipping open, one by one, from the neck down.
"Do you think," he said, voice low with barely-repressed fury, "that you can just walk in here and--"
"And what, Snape?" Lupin turned around. "Make you apologise? God forbid, make you want to be redeemed in my eyes? No." His mouth twisted again in that non-smile; his eyes made Snape recall that he was a Dark Creature. "But I can make you writhe." He waved his hand, and the shirt slipped down off Snape's shoulders, ghosted down to the floor.
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After the war, Remus tells the wizarding world to sod off and goes to live as a Muggle, and three years later, Severus comes looking for him, wanting to know how to do the same thing.
Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
28 Feb 2025
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"You do realize it means working closely with me for quite some time. Weeks, if not months."
Severus gritted his teeth and clenched the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white. "I am aware of that, and as distasteful as the thought is to me, I am prepared to do what I must. I want this."
It was on the tip of Remus' tongue to ask why again. Curiosity was burning a hole in his mind, but he knew that Severus wouldn't answer him. Not now, perhaps not ever, but he hoped that at some point, Severus would unbend enough to tell him.
"The term ends in a few weeks," he said instead. "Shall we start then?"
"That is agreeable."
"You can stay here, if you like. I have a guest bedroom -- sort of." He smiled wryly. "It'll need a bed, and the windows are boarded up, but I can make it habitable before you arrive."
A grimace twisted Severus' mouth, but he nodded reluctantly. "I suppose that would be the most expedient means of going about this."
"Yes, you'll be able to observe me and learn what I do and how to do it yourself much more quickly than if I simply tell you."
"Very well." Severus rose to his feet and swept towards the door. "I shall return after the term ends."
"Good night, Severus," Remus called after him as he let himself out, but there was no reply.
After a moment, he unfolded himself from his chair and went to lock the door, still more than a little bemused by this unexpected twist. Things had been going so well and so peacefully; he supposed he should have known it was a sign that an upheaval was imminent. Still, he doubted that Severus would want to settle in his new life anywhere near Remus, which meant as soon as Severus had learnt everything he wanted to know, they would go their separate ways again, and Remus could return to his nice, quiet life without any more unpleasant relics from his past popping up to disturb him.
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Snape helps a sick Lupin through his last moments.
Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
28 Feb 2025
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His body lay still on the bed, sweat glimmering on his skin. The bleak winter light shone on his face, making him look like a white marble statue, harshly accentuating the hollowness of his cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. I watched him silently, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, in case any change, any disturbance in the air would make him worse. It was a childish thought, I knew, but then watching someone die tended to make the deepest, most instinctive urges surface. Even in people such as I, who thought that they had them under strict control.
He suddenly twitched and let out a gasp, gripping the covers. I could only watch in horror as he shuddered and whimpered under the assaults of the poison coursing through his veins. His face contorted into a mask of pain, his lips drew back to show his teeth as he growled and gasped for breath. For a sick moment, I had the impression that he was grinning. Lupin could well be mocking me. Grinning and laughing at Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts, who has yet to discover the potion that cures a werewolf once he has been shot with a silver bullet. At that moment, I did indeed feel like a joke - an extremely sad one. But he wasn't laughing... he wasn't crying either. His body fell back on the bed and he gritted his teeth, panting tremulously.
He was waiting. Waiting for deliverance, for peace. And I could only watch. I was the only one who cared enough for him to stand at the foot of his bed and watch as he died. Perhaps I was the only one sick enough, actually. They were waiting outside. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Potter... all the bloody school probably. Perhaps they were hoping that I would put an end to his suffering with one of my famous poisons. If only I had that sort of courage. The fact was that I didn't. The fact was that I relished these last moments with Remus, because he would at last be giving me one thing that nobody could ever share, could ever take away from us. But this room was so bleak, so empty, and a small voice in my head was insisting that he deserved so much more... he deserved someone who would hold his hand and comfort him as he went away, he deserved to be told that--
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An Elephant in the Parlour by marksykins [archived by thequidditchpitch_archivist]
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
09 Jan 2006
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Remus never even knew he wanted something until he just couldn't have it.
Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
27 Feb 2025
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Have you ever thought about white elephants? Or rather, have you ever tried not to think about white elephants? Normally, I don't give a second thought to white elephants, but the mere suggestion of them causes them to completely take over my thoughts. I picture them on brooms, shopping in Diagon Alley, sitting at the dining room table and casually sipping tea. White elephants overtake all rational thought, leaving trampled white elephant remains in their wake.
Severus Snape is a white elephant.
It's been two months since Severus and I made our deal and, so far, I've held up my end. This doesn't stop me from watching him carefully at Order meetings, as I nod politely at Albus or Molly or whoever's trying to hold my attention. I see the way he never takes any offered food or drink, how his rigid posture slumps when he thinks no one's looking, and the way he constantly scans the room. He's always on guard and I entertain the notion that he and Mad-Eye get together to discuss vigilance tactics. Once, but only once, our eyes met while he scanned and I watched, but we both quickly looked away.
I'm alone in Sirius's old house and I'm going crazy trying not to think about Severus Snape. Severus with oily hair, a hooked nose, and crooked, yellow teeth. The Severus I'd never really given a second thought until I was told not to give him a second thought.
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Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
28 Feb 2025
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In all the literature about werewolves, there is nothing that suggests that they manufacture some spicy scent from some inhuman gland. If it were perfume, or soap, or detergent, it wouldn't have persisted all these years. He has smelled it on Lupin's skin and hair since they were in school, and when they were teachers together at Hogwarts.
It inflames him. He wants to press against the man in the shabby jumper, press his whole body against the solid flesh of his chest, put his mouth on that juncture between the head and neck, and taste.
Here in the Black family home at Grimmauld Place, Lupin is surprisingly relaxed. Or he's acting as though he is—he doesn't like to show much. Severus understands that, though it amazes him that Lupin can be so controlled and yet so pleasant, as though Severus hadn't harmed him. But he always behaved that way toward Black as well—now it seemed to him less a weakness, and more a mystery.
For in some way, he was the same as Sirius Black to Lupin, who had trusted them both with his secret.
It was a mystery, how Lupin always smiled gently and seemed easygoing when the house was trying to spit them all out: the last, disgraced heir to the House of Black, the half-blood cousin with her strange talent, the various children, and of course Severus himself. How the house hates them all, but must hate him the worst, to throw Lupin at him in the deserted upstairs corridor. They are jostled together suddenly, so that Severus comes off balance. His cock hardens and his eyelids droop with the intoxication of Lupin's scent.
He puts his arms out without thinking and catches the other man. "Watch where you're going, Lupin!"
"Sorry, Severus," Lupin replies with typical mildness. His eyes suddenly flicker in reflection of the wall lamps. "The house, you know." He doesn't right himself immediately, but leans in to whisper, "You don't really mind, though, do you?"
Severus realizes that he has the other man in a sort of embrace, a loose one, his hands around Lupin's upper arms. The triceps shift under his fingers. Severus is sure that his nostrils are flaring, because he is dying to catch more of that delirious smoky Lupin smell.
"You're bent, aren't you," Lupin murmurs almost politely. But there is menace too.
"It's none of your—" Lupin's eyes are the same color as his hair in this light; the color of some dark honey. What is it that smells so good and spicy? "Amortencia," Severus mutters, "musk and candyfloss." He gives in to temptation. The werewolf's streaky hair has always looked coarse to him, but oh, it's so soft against Severus' face as he roots for the source of that smell.
Lupin leans against the flocked wallpaper, turning his head to one side and crushing his cheek against Severus' head. A low sound like a groan or a growl is coming from his throat.
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“Get the shutters,” he said stiffly.
“Want to see you,” Lupin whispered into his hair.
Snape’s panic rose. He fumbled with his words as his heart beat up his throat. “No. Erm…oily hair…you know, bad skin,” he stammered quietly.
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Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
28 Feb 2025
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Snape looked over his shoulder at his pallid visage with loathing. He picked at the acne on his back angrily, squeezing each zit and relishing the pain as he forced each one to pop until blood oozed out alongside the pus.
His mother always berated him for not showering enough when she noticed the red pocks peppering his alabaster skin. Greasy hair begets oily skin, Severus! His nostrils flared furiously at the thought. As if he hadn’t tried shampooing once, twice, three times per day.
Snape anxiously awaited Lupin’s tap on his first-floor bedroom window as he continued to ridicule his own appearance. The Gryffindor usually snuck in at night, but Snape’s father was scabbing at the mine and his ma was already passed-out drunk. Lupin’s hushed words over the telephone indicated this was the ideal circumstance for a midday visit.
Lupin got right to business as he slid in through the glass. Snape’s hastily-chosen clothes were shoved off him immediately by Lupin’s insistent pawing. Snape tried to calm his fear as he smelled the musk lingering on the boy laying atop him from his hurried bicycle ride across town.
“Get the shutters,” he said stiffly.
“Want to see you,” Lupin whispered into his hair, tonguing his ear.
Snape’s panic rose. He fumbled with his words as his heart beat up his throat. “No. Erm…oily hair…you know, bad skin,” he stammered quietly, too mortified to make eye contact.
“Relax, Snape,” Lupin said more seriously as he shifted his body so that he straddled Snape’s torso. He reached out his hand and cradled Snape’s chin, encouraging his gaze upward. “Whatever you’ve got can’t be worse than this,” he said, indicating his blanket of scars with his unoccupied hand.
Snape’s stomach lurched as he took in the mangled skin, amplified as it was by the sun shining in through the slats of the blinds. He ran his hands over Lupin’s hips where the blemishes were less severe and squeezed tenderly once, still unable to speak, and nodded his permission.
Lupin smiled softly. It took but a moment for his grin to turn devilish as his outstretched hand made its way from Snape’s chin to his mouth. He ran two fingers along Snape’s bottom lip and pushed them inside, causing Snape to gag and harden.
Lupin ground his bare bottom on Snape’s growing erection and moaned as he continued to slowly finger Snape’s face. Eventually satisfied, he withdrew and wrapped his slick hand around both their lengths, working his fist quickly as Snape’s hips snapped upward to meet his pumps.
Spent and filthy, the boys laid panting together on the worn duvet.
“Cornflour,” Lupin huffed sleepily by way of breaking the silence. Snape looked at him, befuddled.
“What’s this nonsense?” Snape chided, emboldened post-coitus.
“My hair gets greasy too,” he said sheepishly, reaching lazily to cover Snape’s hand with his own. “Cornflour does the trick between washes.”
Snape blushed. When he saw Lupin’s eyelids fluttering closed, he turned his hand so their fingers interlocked and drifted to sleep, feeling for once seen but not scrutinized.
Fin.
(this excerpt contains the whole fic)
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This work isn't hosted on the Archive so this blurb might not be complete or accurate.
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Snape and Lupin meet secretly during the war.
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Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
27 Feb 2025
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Snape scoffed, "Toast. You're lucky I had sugar. Here." he said tossing Lupin an open box of biscuits.
"Chocolate. Lovely. Thanks." said Lupin. They were stale but he devoured them eagerly, washing them down with hot, sweet tea. He was starting to feel human again. He settled into that feeling, savoured it. The full moon would be up the next night.
The fire in the grate sputtered. "Is that fireplace-"
"That?"
"Yes. Is it on the floo network?" said Lupin, swallowing the last of his tea.
"Why?" said Snape suspiciously.
"Why? You could have saved me a really cold walk. I mean-"
"It isn't. Too small, obviously."
"I suppose," said Lupin. He imagined it was too small for travel, not messages though. It was probably on a floo network, not the official one, but a network of some kind.
"Done?" said Snape.
"Yes. I-"
Lupin kept staring at the fire. He couldn't stop picturing Avery's head popping up in a fury of green flames.
"No one will- It's -"
Snape seemed to have read his thoughts so clearly that Lupin slammed up an Occlumens without even thinking.
"I wasn't." said Snape, exasperated. "It's just your face- Here."
He moved swiftly and deliberately forward. He leaned over and gripped Lupin's chin with his strong fingers, pulling Lupin's face upwards to kiss him very hard. It was all noses colliding and sour tongue but Lupin returned the kiss eagerly. This is what he came for after all; it was certainly not for the tea. It's what he'd come for, he corrected himself. This was only the second time, twice wasn't a habit, it wasn't a pattern of behaviour.
Still he ached all the time for this; the rough feel of stubble against his cheeks, wiry flesh beneath his fingers, and it was a kind of happiness to have it finally. It was a kind of relief that made Lupin rise up into Snape's kiss, to slip his arms around Snape's waist and pull him as tight as he could against himself. There was unpleasantness, Snape smelled of grease and sulphur, but really nothing was unpleasant. It was what he wanted. And even if it wasn't, it would do for now. Snape's lips were warm but his fingers cold as they found their way under Lupin's shirt. Snape squeezed a nipple hard and Lupin cried out, breaking the kiss for the first time.
Lupin looked up at Snape. That close, his nose was enormous, his mouth was bright red from kissing and his lips were very wet and shiny. He looked younger, like he'd looked at Hogwarts, the way Lupin remembered him- strange and vulnerable. Lupin smiled widely and Snape turned his attention to unbuttoning Lupin's shirt.
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Remus starts a new job at a college where one of the professors is a snob too concerned with morning beverages.
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Bookmarked by SiobhanHazel
28 Feb 2025
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As promised, Remus arrives ten minutes early to start the coffee pot the following morning. It means having to wake his son thirty minutes earlier—dropping him off at school before the stuttering line of vehicles becomes a forty-five minute traffic jam—and reading the instructions for ‘using the coffeemaker’ in section 18 (titled miscellaneous tasks) of his workers manual.
“Severus will be pleased,” the dean says after sniffing the air. He gives Remus a wink, the lines in his face showing amusement.
“Do you mean Professor Snape?”“Yes, exactly. Severus Snape. He's a fascinating fellow.”
“Oh, is he?” Remus asks flatly, hardly showing any care as he skims over a new section of the manual. “I must have mistook his unique qualities for good, ole-fashioned rudeness.”
The man in question arrives a minute after eight, fouling the room with an unsurprisingly dark mood. After tasting the coffee, he sneers, “This is abysmal. Next time, add another spoonful.”
Remus feels himself turn hot, face red. In his mind, he jumps over the desk, slaps the steaming mug of shitty coffee out of Snape’s skeletal fingers, hopefully scalding the sneer off his face, and strangles the greasy git with the grasp of a pit bull's jaw.
Instead, he spits, “yes, sir,” and refuses to glance Snape’s way. He turns another page.*
Several days later, when Cedric The Intern—who thoroughly models how to navigate the student application system—asks, “Do you have any questions?” Remus responds with, “Do you, by any chance, know how Professor Snape takes his coffee?”
Cedric laughs with his whole face, eyes squinting, a smile showing every single one of his perfect teeth. “No, mate,” he says between chuckles. “He doesn't even fancy coffee. He’s complained for the last year about us not having a tea kettle.” And then, while still beaming, his voice lowers to a whisper, “The kettle is hidden in Dumbledore’s office, and I'm sure he'd let you use it if you asked.”“What do you mean? Snape has been in here every morning, not even two minutes after eight, to make himself a cup of coffee that he always complains about.” He plasters on a mocking sneer and mimics, “Add another spoonful, the grains weren't ground fine enough, add more water, you used the wrong filter.” He huffs, “It's ridiculous.”
“He must be taking the piss, mate. That coffee pot has been sitting on the shelf gathering dust for the last couple of years… That's so like him. I reckon he gets off on making others' lives a bit harder.”
“We don't even have a bean grinder! I checked! Twice! The coffee is bloody bagged pre-ground.”
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When Severus Snape banked on being dead at the end of a war, it was as much of a shock as a burden to find out he was very much alive. He'd rather welcome oblivion and be known as a hero, than watch himself become a listless ghost of his former self. He never expected his Life After Death would contain much but living an isolated, quiet, life. Instead he somehow ended up returning to Hogwarts to teach, becoming involved in student affairs he'd rather stay far removed from, and most importantly, having copious amounts of sex with his old childhood enemy- Remus Lupin.
Recovery is a fickle and long road, and he certainly didn't expect his would involve accepting Remus as part of it.
(Now being translated into Korean by the lovely and dedicated Jagabee:
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Severus was trapped in his own demise, and Remus was looking for any way possible to escape the clutches of his. He just wanted to do better and be better, but Severus didn’t even see a point in it. He thought a new chance at life was some sort of divine punishment.
That was why he was smoking, and Remus couldn’t help but laugh.
“What is so amusing?” Severus hissed, eye twitching at the audacity.
“It’s just… so juvenile.” Remus said before he could take the words back. “You thought you deserved death, so now you’re just not going to live?”
He hit the wall behind them, and it was only because his wand was already in his hand that he was able to cast a quick cushioning charm. He wasn’t surprised that Severus attacked him, in fact, he would have been surprised if he hadn’t. Severus was already stalking towards him, and Remus saw multiple futures as to how this could go. Words, thrown back and forth, maybe some spells or punches, but he was so tired of that. Severus fisted his hands in the front of Remus’s robes, and instead of pushing him away Remus grabbed his wrists so he couldn’t get away.
“Are you done?” Remus asked fiercely, surprised by his own intensity.
Severus tried to rip his hands back, but to no avail. Remus had werewolf strength on his side.
“Let go of me.”
“Don’t you want to live?” Remus pressed. “For anyone? For yourself? For something ?”
“For what?!” Severus yelled, eyes wild as he realized that Remus had used his anger against him, something he didn’t know was even possible anymore. “I suppose you’ll tell me friendship and love and all that rot will save me? Are you going to save me, Lupin?” He sneered.
Remus paused his life right there, and if anyone asked him what the hell he was thinking at that moment, he’d never be able to tell them. It was a jumbled mess of emotions, each one more fleeting than the last. What he did know was that his mission for a very long time had been to apologize to Severus about what happened, but now that he thought about it, why did he care? Why was he arguing with him about this, when it was clear the bastard was quite willing to waste away in his own grief? For better or worse, he had his attention, whether it was from the corner of his eye, or up in his face like this.
Perhaps Dora was right; he was a little more fluid sexually than he thought. The thought of her still took his breath away, but it was enough pain to jolt him back to awareness.
“Is that what you want?” Remus replied calmly. “For someone to make you feel alive?”
Because maybe Remus needed that a little bit, too.
-
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A defiant Remus rescues Severus from Azkaban, intending to offer him freedom in exchange for a service, but he finds out that there are far more confining prisons than those with bars and walls.
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Remus had to use a charm three times which clarified the water of some of its filth during the bath, then once again before he carefully washed Severus' hair. Severus didn't resist Remus handling him like a doll, tilting his head back to rinse the soap from his hair, leaving the long, unkempt mass tangled but finally clean. Standing once more, Remus banished the disgusting water, then retrieved the thick towel he had left warming next to the fire, wrapping Severus' body in it and lifting him from the tub. He carried Severus to one of the narrow beds, sitting him down upon it and drying Severus carefully.
While he worked, Remus talked to Severus, using a quiet, soothing voice. "It's not much, but the place is safe, and it should be all we need until you're better," he murmured as he combed the tangles from Severus' hair, which now fell halfway down his back, uncut since his imprisonment. "The loo is behind that door over there, primitive but functional, thank Merlin, even if it's not a flush toilet. Beats a chamber pot, at least. I'd gotten some clothing for you as well, though I suspect you'll practically swim in it with all the weight you've lost. We'll have to remedy that at once, you realize; I'll not have you starving to death. Can you hear me, Severus? Do you care about this at all?"
There was no response, and Remus sighed, taking out the clothing he had bought for Severus and dressing his unresisting form. He had been right, the clothing hung on Severus like a sack, and Remus drew his wand, transfiguring the garments - all black, of course - smaller so that they fit better.
Severus ly was emaciated, and that brought up the problem of how Remus was going to get Severus to eat. Food seemed the most important concern now that hygiene had been attended to, and so Remus left Severus sitting on the bed, staring off into nothingness, and moved toward the area of the big room that served the function of "kitchen". It had originally been no more than a few shelves, a table, and a sink, but Remus had been fortunate to have discovered an old cast iron cooker in a Muggle shop, which he had transported here on the sly and rigged up to function. It had almost been a wreck, but a little magic had gone a long way toward restoring it, and it would serve their modest needs.
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Two men sit on a hillside and watch the sunrise.
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He sat on the hillside watching the sun slowly rise over the horizon. Morning began with a hazy dark red breaking the blackness of the night. Soon bursts of yellow and orange shot through the sky, illuminating a charred battlefield from which trails of smoke still steadily rose into the air. His bony, bloodied knees peered out from beneath the tatters of his robes; his wand, shattered and splintered, littered the grass around him. Below him a few dozen others sat on the ground watching the new day begin.
A man was walking up the hillside toward him. His robes also shredded and singed at the bottom. His wand, intact, was clutched in his hand. A small smile adorned a scarred, bruised face. “You made it,” he said plainly.
“I'm afraid so. Sorry to disappoint; I can only imagine how many galleons were lost on that bet.”
Remus Lupin smiled as he sat on the grass next to Severus Snape. They sat in silence and watched the dawn as a crowd began to gather below. Hundreds of people drifted in, some too injured to do so unaided. In what seemed like mere minutes the once empty field was cluttered with faces all watching the daybreak.
“Where did it happen?” Lupin asked.
“There.” Severus jutted his chin to point to a spot that remained clear. A blackened patch of soil that marked the end.
Lupin stared at the bit of scalded earth. “That spot should remain untouched but they'll probably erect a stature there,” he said sadly. “There'll be ceremonies on that plot of burnt land for years to come.”
Severus nodded slowly. “Quiet remembrances and solemn tribute will give way to ruckus carousing and fanfare. Every year, on this day, a politician will hold some sort of formal procedure there, to commemorate the end of the most foul Dark Lord the world would ever know. Names like Weasley and Potter and Granger will be said with reverence and awe.”
Lupin smirked. “You hate that, don't you?”
“It is nearly unbearable.”
“Only nearly?”
“The little bastards deserve it,” he said begrudgingly.
Lupin turned his head to stifle his laugh. It was then he noticed the bits of wood that once made up Severus's wand. He picked up a few pieces and rolled them between his fingers. “This yours?” he asked, turning back to Severus.
“It was.” Severus let his fingers fall to the grass beside him and ran them over the fractured fragments that once made up his wand. “It disintegrated when the Dark Lord fell. It was his way of making sure those who wore his mark would be forever loyal, that we would fight vehemently for his survival. Should he go, he would take our magic with him.”
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Snape takes Sleeping Draughts at night, that comes with the side effect of drowsiness in the mornings. Most don’t see Snape before his third cup of coffee, but when Lupin starts teaching at Hogwarts, he finds himself having some baffling conversations with Snape while he drinks coffee number two, before completely ignoring him the rest of the day.
Lupin takes advantage without intending to… and now he finds he can’t stop.
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It seems that everything Snape does sets Lupin on edge, and sends him into a fizzing fury that he struggles to contain.
And what is Snape doing exactly? Nothing, absolutely fucking nothing, and it’s driving Lupin insane. He’s been dismissed, ignored entirely, like an invisible object in every room Snape’s in. He’s tried to apologise, over and over, but Snape just walks away. So now, they’re ignoring each other.
Lupin steps into the staff room, readying himself for the exchange of pleasant conversation with the other members of staff as they wait for the morning meeting to begin. This morning is like every other, the rest of the teachers give Snape a wide berth as he looks dazed out of the window, absent-mindedly sipping at a mug of black coffee. It must have long gone cold, as with each sip his eyebrows raise a little in surprise as he swallows the liquid slowly, adam's apple bobbing and,
Lupin blinks quickly, snapping his eyes away, and returning to his conversation with Hagrid, who thankfully didn't seem to have noticed Lupin’s lack of interest in the progress of his attempts to lure a Chizpurfle with “a wain’s cauldron, nice and dirty, he was more than happy to hand it over when I explained…” Hagrid continued…
Snape was reaching the end of his mug, Lupin wasn't sure how much coffee Snape drank in the morning, but he knew, as Snape pulled a face at the dregs, displeased and confused, that he would rise shortly to prepare his next cup without asking if anyone wanted anything, he would move slow and unbothered, arriving late for the morning meeting, hot mug in hand and ignoring Lupin like he always did.
Lupin’s eyes are trained on Snape as the man moves around the kitchen, tuning in to listen to Dumbledore only when the man is finally sat, smug, in the remaining seat.
***
Lupin plays along, dances the torturous dance, until October. There’s a fresh chill in the air. And Lupin’s doing well, he’s a good teacher, a good mentor.
When he walks into the staff room, looking between his designated corner, and Snape's corner, his feet refuse their confinement, walking defiantly towards Snape.
“Good morning Severus”. He stands awkwardly, he should have sat before speaking, but now he’s left waiting as Snape turns, blinking slowly, looking puzzled at the presence of a new body, he squints up, “Oh, it's you.” Lupin wasn't sure what to say, Snape's voice was ghostly soft, it caught him off guard. “You used to shimmer with possibility, I hardly recognise you now.”
Lupin was left reeling, what the fuck did that mean? He opened his mouth but no words appeared.
-
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On a sleepless night Remus Lupin finds himself alone in the Hogwarts Owlery. He scribbles a note on a spare bit of parchment and sends it out into the dark night. What happens when someone answers?
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The second the bird was out of sight, he wanted to pull it back. What a stupid question, he thought bitterly. The recipient would take one look at it and decide that Remus was obviously an idiot and not worth his time. He sat in the dark, agonizing over what he should have written. He should have been funnier. More expressive. Less vague. Perhaps he should have quoted poetry or tried to a bit more articulate.
After two hours he was convinced that there would be no reply. He was about to skulk dejectedly to his quarters, where he would fling himself onto his bed and bury his face into his pillow, when his feathered friend came back. Sigmund was just as excited as the night before, yet this time Remus was the one who needed to be calmed down. When both he and the owl had regained a bit of composure, Remus grabbed the note and nearly ripped it as he read: It is quiet here, but I don't mind. I gather that you do.
"I do," he said aloud. "I mind very much." He wanted to reply right away but pulled back again. His pen pal seemed more willing to speak than he had originally thought, so perhaps more than just a few words were in order.
The next day he gave his class a research assignment while he sat at his desk, trying to figure out what to say in his next letter. Should he respond to the previous statement and begin a dialogue, or should he just ask another question? Then, of course, there were the funnier, more expressive, less vague, poetry quoting options he'd tormented himself with the night before.
Remus had never been one for those sort of games. They required an amount of energy and concentration he just didn't have readily available. He decided that he was thinking too much and, rather than create some persona that he surely would not be able to maintain, he would just be himself. If that wasn't enough, then so be it. While his students continued their search for counter curses to counter curses, Remus sat at his desk and wrote out a response.
I do mind the quiet, he began. I mind it at a time when there should be singing in the streets. When there should be raucous celebration, full of joy. A war was fought for the sake of a freedom that no one seems to want to enjoy. It's sad to think that despite victory we've lost the very thing we were trying to defend.
I miss the laughter of small children. I miss seeing streets full of people going about their day. I miss the pleasure of a simple conversation between friends. I missed these things enough to send a bird in hopes of finding some company.
By the way, I'm very pleased to meet you.
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Remus has been captured and tortured into insanity by Voldemort. Four months after his return, Severus finds out something that turns his whole world upside down. He has been horribly wrong about Remus in the past and has taken away their chance to be happy. Now it's too late - isn't it?
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Having finished reading, I watched him silently. He did not seem to have gained any weight since my first visit over three months ago. His pale skin, hardly standing out against the white sheets, gave him an almost ethereal appearance. In a way that I cannot describe, he looked innocent and young, despite his faded scars, tired features and greying hair. Younger even than so many years ago, when there had been kisses, touches and sweet promises of love, when I had thought him to be the most wonderful person I had ever met, and I the luckiest one for being allowed to be so near to him. Before I had met his other self. Before I had realised that I had meant nothing to him.
“Let bygones be bygones, Lupin,” I said, wiping off with my handkerchief a small trace of drool that was trickling down his chin from his slightly parted lips. “I believe you, but it doesn’t change anything. It was over twenty-two years ago.”
After this I buried myself in my work. I wanted to believe what I had said. Let bygones be bygones. Even if he had been able to tell me in person, it would not have changed anything. Too much had happened. Too much had been destroyed. It would never have been the same. And as it was, it did not matter anymore.
For three months, it worked. Until the last sleepless August night, when the full moon was shining brightly down on me through the window of my bedroom in my old house I use to retreat to during the holidays. That night, I could not help thinking of him, of how he was right now. As damaged as a wolf as he was as a man, unable to move, with no understanding of what was happening to him, why he had to undergo the excruciating pain of the transformation. Alone.
I did not sleep that night.Two days later found me in front of his door. When I entered, a nurse was feeding him. She was chattering cheerfully to him about how ‘we’ were feeling today, and I felt an irritation welling up in me that I normally only derive from Potter’s presence. Using my most penetrating scowl, I run her out of the room.