Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, ladies and gentlemen, so don't say I said I did. Thanks.
Slashtastic, folks. Of the SSRL variety. Or, uh, pre-slash. Yeah, that's the way to describe it, for this piece. Part of a series of SSRL pieces I am writing, all of which will be posted here, though most will be stand alone, yet loosely related.
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He was sitting in the kitchen, his back to the door, slumped in one of those old, wooden chairs, his fingers wrapped limply around a bottle of what appeared to be firewhiskey and his chin against his chest. Somehow, the look fit Remus Lupin, whether it be because he had just lost his former lover in a rather foolish fashion, or perhaps because he was a pathetic, broken down werewolf. Or maybe it was because he just plain looked miserable the majority of the time, so he may as well echo the expression on his face in his posture, right?
Somehow, Severus Snape, who was usually repulsed by such blatant displays of weakness, just couldn't tear his eyes away.
Maybe it was because he knew Remus Lupin was not weak and, despite the way he seemed to fit so perfectly into the role, Severus's brain was rejecting the sight.
He stood, framed in the doorway to the kitchen of number 12, Grimmauld Place, having come to aid in the removal of sensitive, Order related materials from the house as there was a very real chance that, with the recent and oh so tragic death of Sirius effing Black, Narcissa Malfoy would suddenly find herself in possession of the Black Family's last remaining home. Her or Bellatrix. And neither would bode well for the future of the Order's safety. He had been counting on Minerva, or perhaps Kingsley being there to help the process, but instead he had found himself in a house devoid of all but one of the standing Order members. Incidentally, it just so happened to be the last person he wanted to be around at the moment, but not for the reasons one would think.
Contrary to popular belief, Severus Snape did not hate Remus Lupin.
Underneath the harsh insults and nasty comments, Severus had always been of the opinion that, had Lupin been sorted into Slytherin rather than sodding Gryffindor, the two of them would have been friends. They had a sort of kinship in that they had both suffered, and traumatically, as children, and were both rather broken down men. Soldiers, too, though Severus certainly didn't define himself by the role he played in the war and he was sure Lupin didn't either. If the other man identified himself by one trait, it was the lycanthropy. The lycanthropy and the life it had lead him to. And Severus…
Severus wasn't quite sure how he identified himself yet, but warrior, spy, teacher; none of the titles seemed to fit.
He stared mutely at the back of Lupin's head, quest to salvage the Order's information store forgotten.
They were more alike than he cared to admit, Lupin and him. Outside of the miserable youths and the teaching and the half lives they lead, they were similar in that they didn't know who they were, who they were going to be. And really, when he looked at it from an outsider's perspective, they each had no real place in this world outside of the ones that were offered to them by the same man. The same trusting, old, and foolish man.
Lupin moved, breaking his musings, and Severus watched as he took a long drag off of the firewhiskey bottle, draining it of everything it had left, before tossing it aside. They watched, each silent and uncaring, as the glass shattered on the table, scattering bits and pieces over the floor to rest on top of the congealing mold.
The werewolf pushed himself to his feet and turned.
Severus Snape was not a coward, that much he was sure of, but when those blue eyes locked on him, blank and dry, he wanted to run as fast and as far as he could.
Lupin stared at him, completely devoid of emotion, his fingers resting limply on the back of the chair he had just been occupying and his robes slipping off his left shoulder to reveal a ratty, old looking blue sweater. He clearly hadn't shaved in days and Severus got the feeling that such behavior had been born of not taking showers, judging by the way the brown hair on the man's head seemed to be sticking up of its own volition.
It wasn't a conscious decision on either of their parts, but it became a standoff.
Severus struggled not to squirm under that empty, burning, frightening gaze, but it became more and more difficult as the seconds ticked passed and Lupin showed no signs of letting up. He wanted to leave, or at least do what he came to do, which would hopefully make Lupin at least start to do the same, if not just get away. It was so disconcerting, that stare. So…probing.
"Severus."
It was said so suddenly and so calmly, as though Lupin had expected him to come here all along, but it didn't keep Severus from jumping nearly a foot in the air, nor did it keep his hand from straying to his wand. A horrible thought occurred to him: did Lupin blame him for Black's death? Yes, he had hated the man, but he'd never wanted him dead. And it wasn't his fault the imbecile didn't know how to stay put and do as he was ordered to do. Black had had a fetish for danger and Lupin knew that better than anyone. Surely he didn't-
"Severus," Lupin repeated, more forcefully this time, and Severus, who had been staring at the werewolf's hands, looked up into his eyes with a jerk. "Severus, I need to tell you something."
Remus Lupin was not unreasonable; he was actually quite level headed, like him, though Severus had forgotten.
When they had been teenagers, Lupin had often stared at him with something akin to regret when he thought no one was looking, and even when he knew he was being obvious. He had always assumed that it had been born of the boy's cowardly refusal to stand up to his friends and the fact that, though he had never taken part in Black and Potter's continued tormenting of Severus, he had been just as guilty, if not more so, as a bystander.
He got the distinct feeling he had been very wrong, if the way Lupin was staring at him now was any indication. That old regret was back and it had brought a smoldering heat with it.
And Severus found himself terrified by the sight of it.
"You asked me once if I was in love him."
That was true. Severus had, stupidly, let the question slip out shortly after the first time Sirius Black had been sighted inside of Hogwarts during Harry Potter's third year. Dumbledore had paired him and Lupin together in their search of the school and, disgruntled as he had been with the arrangement, he had spent the majority of their sweep verbally abusing the werewolf, beginning with his inability to pick Black out as a spy and ending with the question Lupin had just reminded him of now. It only occurred to him now that Lupin had never directly answered it. What had he said? "Love is relative." Severus had written him off as an idiot that night.
He didn't think anything now. His brain had locked itself down under Lupin's paralyzing blue eyes.
That werewolf was not an idiot.
"I never answered you."
Severus wanted to say, "I know," but his jaw appeared to be glued shut. Instead he settled for more staring, in hopes it was the right thing to do.
"I never, not as a boy, not as a teenager, nor as an adult, and certainly not within the span of the last two years, was in love with Sirius Black. I loved him, yes, but not in the way you meant that night."
"You were with him for years," came spilling from Severus's lips before he could stop it. He blanched at the accusing tone he had adopted, cursing the fact that his mouth had decided to work now, when it would help him the least. But to his relief, Lupin smiled weakly and his gaze turned inward, despite still being directed straight at his own.
"I know. I was a fool. A horrible, insolent fool who thought that, if I ignored it, it would cease to be," Severus had no idea what Lupin was talking about now, but evidently he wasn't expected to, because the werewolf continued in a tired voice, "I watched, for years, as they tortured you, Sirius and James. They weren't just playing up a school boy rivalry, either, they were cruel, hateful, and I couldn't stand to watch it. But I did. I justified it by labeling my friendships as more fragile than your feelings and well being and I was such a prat, Severus, I understand why you loathe me now. God knows I deserve it."
He wanted to open his mouth and agree; simply because this was getting far too…he didn't even know, for his tastes. But once again his mouth betrayed him by staying shut and he was left staring mutely at Lupin, waiting for some explanation as to why he was confessing to all of this now, nearly two decades too late to matter.
"He's dead, Severus," the werewolf continued softly, lowering his eyes to the floor, "Dead, because he was reckless. And it reminded me of something. Something that I, like a naïve fool, had forgotten. This war means the same thing as it did all those years ago, Severus. When we were young. Do you remember? We may not have as much time as we think."
Severus Snape nodded because there was nothing else he could do. Remus Lupin was right.
They could both be dead tomorrow.
"I was awful to you," that voice, so horribly hollow, was pounding in his ears, in perfect time with his own blood, "So awful. In some ways, most ways, I was worse than Sirius and James."
There was a pause and for a second, Severus was sure the world was ending because nothing was moving and time seemed to have slowed. He stood and watched as the dust, lighted by the one flickering lantern in the corner, stilled and found himself regretting the timing.
Not like this.
Lupin spoke again in barely a whisper.
"The worst part, Severus? There was a reason I could never love him."
The particles were moving again, but slower than before, as though they had found some sort of peace. He watched, his blood following their rhythm, and saw that Lupin seemed almost surrounded by their unnatural, unearthly light. Their eyes met again and Severus's breath caught.
"It was always you."
They were different, though. Remus Lupin accepted that he had been broken. Severus Snape would not.
That was why he couldn't believe what Lupin was saying.
Not like this.
Not yet.
Perhaps, in a different time, when Lupin got his act together and discovered that he did, indeed, have life. Perhaps, when this was over, Severus could overlook every wrong and allow one right. Because they could have been friends, had things gone differently. They could have been more.
But Remus was barely clinging to his existence as it was, while Severus's was stretched between two demanding masters. And the possibility of them…it would have been tainted, unforgiving and wrong.
It would have destroyed them both.
Remus Lupin was not weak, but Severus Snape was stronger.
He left.