Title: Cracking
Notes: For the Contrelamontre 'Heat' challenge
Fandom: HP
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or situations in this story. I mean no harm. Please don't sue.
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Timeline: Post-OotP
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Remus had never known that an empty bed could get so warm. He hadn't realised that when you can't sleep and the quilt is drawn up well past your shoulders so you don't have to see the other side of the bed that the body heat of a single person could make you boil in your bed. He hadn't known that it would bother him as much as it did. If he had known that keeping the double duvet would result in that, he would have gotten rid of it along with other choice items he couldn't handle seeing right now.
It had been ten nights since Sirius had disappeared and he was afraid of falling asleep. Not because he had nightmares. He didn't. It was more because of the dreams. Dreams he could never grasp on waking the next day and teased him with misty images of black hair and dark eyes. So he lay there, in the dark, alone with his thoughts and was there ever a worse thing to be left alone with? Maybe a bottle of Firewhiskey, but that brought back a whole slew of memories from when they were young and deeply in lust that were better off locked firmly away in the back of Remus' mind where he didn't need to see them.
A lot of things had been locked there in the past fortnight, so that he could function for the order. But some things were starting to seep through. Like the cool of rough fingers stroking his back, or the sudden breeze of cold air under the duvet as his mate shifted in his sleep and stuck a leg out over the side. Throwing off the quilt entirely, he suppressed a frustrated growl, amber eyes screwed shut against equally frustrated tears. He wouldn't cry, because then he'd have to see, because they'd be cold against fevered skin.
Instead he turned to his side and curled himself around his pillow, staring out the still grimy window blankly.
"You bastard Sirius. You utter, fucking, donkey fucking Bastard." He cursed, but there was no bile behind it, and less conviction. "Look what you've left me with. Hope you're happy. You've driven me to insomnia."
He wore no pyjama top, and the cold night's air drew out goose pimples over his torso. The night's air felt good to him. Cold, clean, tidy. No need for Sirius' heat there, no need for kisses or arguments or making up. Remus embraced it, and fell slowly asleep, not even noticing the single tear that had escaped his control.
In geography there is a process where a stone placed in the desert will crack. Exposed to extremes of heat and cold it will expand and contract until eventually, over time, it will crack. This happened to Remus Lupin fifteen days after Sirius' fall through the veil. The cracking point occurred during and Order meeting which was proceeding much as expected. Dumbledore handled everything, reports were given, new tasks accepted, and Severus Snape slid in snide comments about Sirius at every opportunity he could get.
Everytime he did, Molly would shoot Remus a concerned glance but not once did the Werewolf show an outer sign of his growing anger at the potions master, except in how hard he held his pen.
"Our last order of business is just a simple request." Dumbledore said, smiling indulgently at the Weasley twins who had made no bones about being vocal in their boredom by way of satisfying stretches and loud yawns. "Since Sirius' unfortunate disappearance, there's been no-one here permanently. So I'd like volunteers to set up a guard on the house. Until that is in place though, I would like to ask Remus to remain here and act as a guard."
The werewolf in question nodded amicably to hurry along proceedings.
"Certainly Headmaster." He added, in case the older wizard hadn't quite got the message.
"Yes, Lupin, you'll get to do as much for the Order as your friend did." Snape chimed in, right on cue. Most of the Order members were blind to the sly insult, but those that understood looked immediately to Remus. His eyes narrowed, teeth gritted and after only a second, his pencil snapped and was dropped forgotten to the floor.
"Severus, you –" Dumbledore began, but never finished. The two elder members of the order rose simultaneously from their seats, glaring pure hatred at each other.
"Would you please tell me, Severus, out of general interest you understand, why you insist on continuing your vendetta against Sirius?" The words were calm personified, but were issued as though through a mouthful of ground glass.
If Snape had been paying more attention to Remus' body language he would have seen the warning signs that for once he was approaching the end of the werewolf's tolerance. The others saw it, and moved back, unsure of what his reaction would be to the reply. It wasn't long before they found out.
"Since you enquire so directly, I'll tell you. Black was an evil twisted little shit that made my life a misery. If it were a possibility, I'd do my level best to eradicate his seed from this world." Snape bit out, taking a threatening step forwards, black eyes boring into his opponent's unfazed ambers. "But since most of it resides inside you, his little fuck-buddy Moony, I'll just have to content myself with slurring his memory, won't I?"
The potions master wouldn't realise until two hours later when he woke up what had happened next. Remus had growled savagely and from nowhere his fist flew up to connect with the side of Snape's head, dropping the wizard like the proverbial sack of shit. Shocked silence followed for a moment, and Remus stood looking contemptously down at Severus Snape's unconscious body, white-hot rage coursing through his veins and filling him with a heat he welcomed. It was almost like the kind of heat his defended Sirius had given him.