Summary: Severus observes the Marauders. Grudgingly, he admits his attraction to one of them and does something about it. The story can imply SSRL and/or SBRL depending on interpretation. Curious enough to read? I dare you. Don't like slash? Get off my ship and swim.
Disclaimer: The title was inspired by a quote from an anime my friend watches, but I've forgotten which show.
I didn't invent the Harry Potter characters. I didn't invent the English language. I didn't invent computers. I didn't invent fan fiction websites. I didn't even invent these pairings. All I did was take was take words and names thought up by others and arrange them in a fashion that I think makes an interesting ten-minute read…Still planning on suing me? All I have is a pack of old glow sticks and a half-eaten chocolate bar. You're welcome to them.
Genres: Romance, Drama
Fear Light; It Hides Shadows
The sun was setting. Fading beams of sunlight filtered through the long, thin windows. None of the beams reached the corner. It was nearly impossible to view the words on the worn pages of the dusty library books, and unquestionably impossible for anyone to witness what was occurring in the aforementioned corner.
Being obscured by shadows was how I liked it. Pitch darkness obliterated everything, however, being a person of shadows meant I concealed only what I wished to mask. Admittedly, I hid almost everything aside from my disdain for people who deserved it. To do otherwise, to reveal what I cared about and what I feared, would be to hand weaknesses to my enemies on a silver platter.
Speaking of adversaries, I observed four of them huddled together at a nearby table whispering in what they must have naively presumed was an inconspicuous manner. Well, four was an exaggeration. I preferred worthy opponents and, though I respected none of them personally, I held grudgingly respect for only two of them as deserving of my attention as nemeses.
One of the foursome was a complete imbecile. Certainly, I had a larger intellectual capacity than all of them combined, but at least the other three were competent with a wand and didn't fawn over anyone adoringly. Admittedly, my two loathsome enemies were wont to fawn over themselves.
What of the other? If he had somewhat decent magical skill, why didn't I consider him a worthy opponent? He never defended himself. If someone intended to kill him he would most likely attempt to prevent it, yet when he was insulted he invariably failed to retaliate. He had no pride. He frequently made jokes at his own expense and never went after what he wanted in life. Perhaps it was the Slytherin ambition in me, but I was utterly repulsed by the concept that someone would disregard their reputation, nor formulate goals for himself. He wasn't human, but that was no excuse.
In fact, people hated me for who I was instead of what I was, which was worse than his scenario, and it merely made me more determined to make something of myself. I could see through anyone's lies to the true motives lingering beneath. That was why I was so despised. No one wanted to feel like glass, and my insight resulted in everyone being transparent. Well, everyone except him: The werewolf.
I could detect the detestation for me in all people I met besides him, yet I knew it was there. It had to be. After all, everybody abhorred me. At least the rest of the student body was open about it, but he pretended to be as cordial to me as he was to the rest of our peers. I loathed him. I wanted him expelled. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him dead…Mostly, however, I just wanted him.
This desire nauseated me. How could I have such an irrepressible urge to touch something in an intimate fashion that wasn't even a person? Was it because he was as reserved as me, and merely masked his emotions with politeness rather than indifference? Was it because he was he associated with Potter and Black, and fondling him would enrage them? Was it because he represented the epitome of Gryffindor virtue, and I needed to taint him? Was it because I knew it bothered him that his wolf form disgusted me, and I wished for my opinion to matter to someone?
The fact that I was unable to discern the reason for my yearning infuriated me more than the lust itself. Yes, I could admit I was attracted to him since affection; not attraction, is what would make me hesitate to hurt somebody.
"Well, lads," Potter's vile, cocky voice said, "that was a very productive Marauder Meeting, but discussion time is over. We're ready for action."
Pettigrew, who typically waited for Potter to speak so he could agree with him, leapt up in excitement making his massive stomach jiggle revoltingly. "Operation Singing Portraits is go!"
"Not so loud, dolt. D'you want that batty librarian to hear?" growled Black. He had been grinning at Potter, but now his expression was angered and fixed on Pettigrew. His moods changed faster than the wind. Lupin was calm and preferred routine to the point that almost everyone considered him boring; I couldn't understand why he consorted with such a rash moron like Black.
"Sorry." Cowardly Pettigrew looked abashed and turned to Lupin, likely seeking comfort. "Coming?"
Lupin shook his head. His indistinct tawny hair with prematurely graying highlights fell into his unremarkable blue eyes. "I should do that essay McGonagall assigned us. If you stay, we can all work on it together before the prank."
I knew Pettigrew could use the assistance, but when Potter scoffed, "It isn't due till next week!" Pettigrew chimed in, "You're such a teacher's pet, Remus."
"Moony is my pet," Black corrected him, laying his hand possessively on Lupin's shoulder. His action and his words demonstrated he felt that Lupin was his personal object. Anyone else would have thought he was joking about the innuendo, but anyone else would have failed to notice a few of the fingers on the shoulder strayed to caress the neck. Anyone else would have thought Lupin, who had a volume open in front of him, was biting his lip in concentration instead of fighting a blush from illuminating his cheeks.
According to Black's younger brother, four months ago Black's parents had betrothed him to a respectable pureblood girl. He had refused to go through with the marriage because, not only was he uninterested in that particular girl, he was uninterested in all girls. Then, he moved into Potter's house and was removed from the Black family tree.
Ever since that incident, he and Lupin acted differently; walking closer than necessary in the corridors and leaving Pettigrew to watch Potter's Quidditch practices going off to do Merlin-knows-what by themselves.
Four entire months…I wondered who suspected them. By the way he was smirking at them, Potter was certainly aware of it. Pettigrew's blank visage informed me he'd require another few weeks to catch on.
"Well, if you wanna do your homework like a good little Prefect, I won't stop you," Potter must have believed this was quite generous of him. "C'mon, Padfoot; Wormy."
Pettigrew immediately took his place beside Potter, but Black was still regarding Lupin. "You gonna be all right?" Did he enquire out of real concern or because, as Lupin's more-than-friend, he was expected to care? Being a cynical person, I suspected the latter. My experiences taught me no one could be trusted.
Lupin considered it. "I think so, but I know if the evil books become too much for me, you'll rescue me and carry me off into the sunset." Sarcasm. The only humour I approved of using myself.
"And then you can give your hero a reward!" Black declared, licking his lips in a manner he probably deemed seductive.
The librarian glared in their direction for Black's outburst, as Pettigrew stupidly suggested, "Like a chocolate frog?"
Due to the glare they had received, Lupin chastised Black with sickening fondness in his voice, "Quiet, we're in the library." Then, he calmly addressed Pettigrew. "Well, the prize would be something sweet."
"It is Honeydukes; I knew it!" squealed the fool, apparently pleased with himself.
The woman was leering at them again. "We'd better go before she has an aneurysm," remarked Potter carelessly. Where was his sense of respect for authority figures?
"Right." Black nodded and stood with the others. "I'll collect my reward from Moony later." He always assumed people wanted to shower him with attention.
Lupin rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Try not to get into too much trouble." This concern, I knew, was genuine. Irrationally, he tended to have more worry for the well being of others than he had for himself.
"Us?" Potter and Black spoke in unison, an annoying feat they found impressive, and shared a mock-innocent glance. "Never!"
Mercifully, the three of them exited; I could observe Lupin in peace. He was neither good-looking nor hideous. On the exteriour, he was the plainest person I'd ever encountered. Actually, as I said, on the surface even his personality appeared dully predictable. It is this fact that made him so alluring, for few knew he was anything but ordinary underneath. He was as good at concealing things as I was.
He perused pages of tomes on the table before him as if there was naught in the world he'd rather be doing. After reading a segment, he would scrawl an answer on his parchment. Then, read over what he had written while nibbling his quill thoughtfully. It was a repulsive habit. How could he tolerate feathers in his mouth? How could he make it look so cute?
Half an hour passed ere he rolled up his scroll and placed it, along with his ink and gnawed quill, into his worn bag. Slinging the tatty strap gracelessly over his shoulder, he picked up the encyclopedias and headed to an aisle of bookshelves at the back of the room to put them away.
What possessed me to follow him? Maybe my raving father was accurate and I did have mental issues. Lupin glided a slender finger across the bindings of the books on the shelves to ensure he was putting the ones he borrowed in their proper place.
"Trying to tarry so you won't have to meet up with your friends?" The last word was spat like a curse. I ought not have claimed his meticulousness was a waste of time since I was a perfectionist with books myself, however, he mercifully didn't know that. Any similarities between us were better left unnoticed.
He jumped slightly, unambiguously startled. "Oh, hello, Severus." What right did he have to be disrespectful and use my name, as a comrade would, when I only ever used his surname? He got over his surprise; his mind registered what I had asked. "Why would I do that?"
"You want to put off the inevitable. It'll happen anyway, so why torture yourself by dragging it out?" Riddles were things I immensely enjoyed, though no one else ever seemed to like them.
Lupin's brow creased while he pondered my sentiment. "I don't think I understand."
"You don't want to be Black's little bitch, but you don't know how to say 'no.'" I wasn't certain of this, but I was certain I wanted to find out.
"I'm not sure what you're talking about." The flush on his cheeks said otherwise. I couldn't determine if he was embarrassed because my accusation was true or angry because it was false. Regardless, I ignored how much I liked it.
"Playing it like that, are you?" I sneered. "Well, why not? Masquerading as an honest human being is a daily occurrence for you." I couldn't resist the opportunity to mock his lycanthropy along with everything else.
His soft eyes hardened slightly and I felt a thrill of victory at pushing him slightly beyond his calm facade. "Wizards on glass brooms shouldn't play Quidditch with bludgers."
"You may have a point," I acknowledged my own duplicity. "I just thought you should know you have other options."
"Other options?" The werewolf had no idea what I meant and was completely unprepared when I moved into his space. He reflexively stepped backwards until he hit shelves, effectively trapped between me and the bookcase, which gave me no cause for complaint. Lupin held the book in his hands between us like a shield, but didn't reach for his wand since I didn't have mine.
"Yes," I spat irritably. "You spend so much time thinking about your flaws, and how - if people accept them - then you should gratefully allow these so-called friends to treat you however they like. You make me angry because you won't let yourself realise you could have something else."
"What? Listen, Severus, I'm not in the mood to argue with you about something that isn't any of your business. We're in a library-"
I didn't allow him to finish his rationale. I sank my hands into his hair to hold his head in place while I kissed him hard. In shock, he dropped the book and I kicked it aside. With no further barrier between us, I pressed forward so our bodies touched. I left one hand in his hair, as it was pleasantly silky, but moved the other to wrap an arm around his waist to hold him tightly against me. The Prefect gasped in surprise and I took advantage of the chance to delve into his mouth. He wasn't participating in the kiss, but made no effort to stop me. I enjoyed the taste of him – faintly bittersweet like the last thing he'd eaten hours ago was dark chocolate – and the way his body felt slightly more toned than the skinny frame beneath the hideous school jumper suggested.
Finally, hands came to rest upon my shoulders. They were shaking and offered me no encouragement, nor resistance. Knowing this could change any second, I made the most of the moment by tightening my grip, biting his lip and thrusting my thigh against his pelvis. The lycanthrope emitted a short cry which might have been pleasure or pain. I hoped it was both.
Releasing his mouth for air, I taunted, "Shut up, Lupin; we're in a library," relishing throwing his words back at him almost as much as the kissing.
He huffed a laugh against my face. "Severus?" The sound of my name being uttered breathlessly from wet lips was so deliciously sinful it soothed my disappointment when the brunet finally pushed me away to slip from my grasp, albeit gently. "What was…I don't…Have you…" He put a fingertip to his swollen lips as if he could still feel me there and sought to make sense of it. "Have you been hexed or slipped a love potion?"
"Fool." He truly was abysmal at Potions. I scorned his lacking knowledge of symptoms of those afflicted by draughts creating artificial affection. The obsessive worship was nothing like my tendency to notice him with irksome frequency, as one might note a buzzing fly one wished would get squashed so one could cease being distracted by it. My own hands were quaking now as the full realisation of my actions struck me. I needed to leave ere he observed how impacted I was. "Options," I reminded him curtly, spinning on my heel and walking swiftly from the library without a backward glance.
Minerva's Note: Sorry if you wanted Sirius to find out and angrily confront Snape, and/or have Remus go through a bunch of angst in order to make a choice between them, but I do not have time to undertake a chapter fic. I deliberately made it unclear if Remus enjoyed Severus' kiss or not because I wanted to give options to SSRL and SBRL shippers. Haha! I never previously wrote the paining Severus/Remus OR a fic from Snape's perspective, so I would really appreciate some feedback on this piece. If you send me a flame, though, I will only use it to roast marshmallows for the s'mores I am making with Moony tonight. Cheers!