Forty Years

Severus heads to the Leaky Cauldron more to get out of the weather than anything else. The blanket of snow which had lured him out this morning is not so inviting in Diagon Alley, compacted by hordes of Christmas shoppers and too slippery under his cane. He doesn't really know why he came here, truth be told. He has no one to buy for, and the carols do nothing for his mood. Inside the Leaky Cauldron is better, though, where the fire is warm and the whisky welcome. It's always quiet, too, this time of year.

He orders his drink and takes it to a table tucked away in a corner. He leans his cane against the wall and removes his scarf and coat, draping them over the back of a threadbare armchair. When he sits, he's careful to keep his bad knee straight.

The first drink disappears quickly, and he is beginning to stand and return to the bar when a second is placed onto the table and slid towards him. He looks up and a familiar face smiles uncertainly down at him.

"This seat taken?" Lupin asks. Severus hesitates before sighing quietly and inclining his head slightly, settling himself back into his seat.

Lupin plonks himself down, spilling a couple of drops of his pint onto his hand in the process. He raises his glass in a silent 'cheers' before taking a swill and setting it down on the table. Severus tilts his whisky towards Lupin before taking a sip.

There's a silence.

Lupin surveys the pub, reclining casually, his thumb stroking lazy circles on the worn fabric of the armchair. Severus is less relaxed. His eyes dart, searching desperately for something to say. The minutes stretch. Lupin seems not to mind.

"You've grown a beard." He opts for, eventually.

"Yes." Lupin turns to face him, his smile patient and amused. "What do you think?" He rubs his hand against it, as though unsure himself.

Severus shrugs. "You look…different." He pauses. "Hairier."

Lupin snorts into his drink. "Hairier, indeed." He looks at Severus, and cocks his head. "You're just as hairy as last I saw you. Maybe a little greyer around the temples, though." He thinks he sees Severus hide a smile behind the rim of his glass.

"I'm afraid we are young men no longer."

As Lupin removes his scarf, Severus downs the last of his drink.

"I'll get us another."

They really don't have much to talk about. They ask about the few old acquaintances either of them still knows and complain about the weather. They avoid any talk of Christmas plans. By the third round the cards are out and Severus has won two hands of three. Lupin's poker face is terrible, even with the beard covering half of it.

Lupin excuses himself to use the bathroom and returns with more drinks. Severus is now drinking doubles, it would seem. It is starting to get dark outside, and Severus vaguely thinks he should make a start for home. But it's been a while since he's had any company, and even longer since he's won any money, and so his desire to pursue the thought is minimal.

"Easy on the doubles. I still have to hobble home." It doesn't stop him from taking the drink, though.

"What happened to your leg?" Lupin is busy dealing and doesn't look up. Severus thinks it might be to give him the option of avoiding the question, or lying, if he wants to. A remnant of war, when some things were too painful to talk about.

"Fell down some stairs and broke my kneecap. Didn't heal very well."

"Ah." He nods without looking up.

"Nothing too exciting, I'm afraid."

"I think we've both had enough excitement for several lifetimes. A nice boring tumble down the stairs suits just fine." Lupin finishes dealing and picks up his hand. Severus picks up his too, organising them into suits. Lupin doesn't arrange his cards in any particular order, and the only reason Severus doesn't pick him up on it is because he suspects Lupin might play better if he were to impose some logic.

"Easy for you to say." He sneers without any real venom. Because Lupin can't shuffle, either, he has ended up with the two, three, four, six, eight and queen of clubs. He plays a card, and they don't speak again for another twenty minutes.

"How's Tonks?"

The pause is a beat too long.

"I don't know."

He doesn't push it.

In the end, he thinks it's because he feels sorry for him.

It's not a pleasant feeling, or one he's especially accustomed to. He just wants it gone, and in the moment he thinks the best way to do that is to invite Lupin over for Christmas. He regrets it immediately.

Sooner than immediately. As the words come out of his mouth, his mind races for a way he can change them, change the offer to something less horrendous. Less awkward. But then he's said it, and he can't take it back.

Lupin looks taken aback. His pint pauses halfway between the table and his face. "That's very kind of you. Are you sure?"

"Yes." Severus says through gritted teeth.

"Then I'd like that very much."

"Don't feel obliged." He says, too quickly.

"I don't."

Severus thinks Lupin is being difficult on purpose. Deliberately misreading the situation, although for what reason he couldn't say. He starts to feel annoyed at him, but then it's his own fault, really. Lupin didn't force him to make the offer.

He sips his whisky. "Well then. I suppose it's settled."

"I suppose so." Lupin smiles broadly and picks up the cards.

He spends far too long staring at the mirror.

Far too long. It's not as if he doesn't know what he looks like. Hooked nose. Narrowed eyes. Sneer. Same as it's been for almost sixty years. Same as it'll be tomorrow, and the day after that.

He doesn't know why his reflection should suddenly interest him now.

He brushes his teeth more meticulously than usual. He regrets the cigarettes and the tea. He almost regrets the tea.

Except he does know why it suddenly interests him now.

And he says he looks the same. That's not quite true. He's thinner, and the lines around his eyes are deepening behind the glasses he's worn the past five years. All of his lines are deepening, truth be told. He runs a hand through his hair. Lupin was being kind when he said he was maybe a little greyer.

He opens the cabinet to put his toothbrush back, then closes it and stares at his face a moment longer. Hooked nose, narrowed eyes, sneer.

It's not the first time they've met in the Leaky Cauldron.

He'd been out that night because it was a Friday and he was twenty-one, and that's what you're supposed to do. Although by this point the party had been going for almost three weeks, and he'd already been tired when it started. The Leaky Cauldron was packed. Every so often someone knocked his elbow and he sloshed beer onto the sticky bar and glared half-heartedly. Every round of drinks bought was followed by a toast to the Potters, and then more often than not whispers about Black.

They'd nearly missed each other. Severus had been getting ready to leave amidst a renewed cheer for The-Boy-Who-Lived when he noticed a different type of noise further along the bar. People were starting to back away slightly. He rolled his eyes and made for the door before the fight broke out properly.

"Say. It. Again. I fucking dare you."

The voice was familiar. Severus sighed.

"I said, I hope they kill the bast-." The last word was cut off by the sickening crunch of Lupin's fist connecting with a nose, and the bar erupted.

By the time the doorbell rings, Severus is starting to think Lupin might not show.

He opens the door to a bedraggled mess of scarf and coat, and Lupin smiles apologetically while pressing a bottle of wine into his hands.

"Sorry I'm late. Place is a nightmare to get to."

"It's fine."

They stand in the hallway.

Severus has never had a guest to this house. Spinner's End had the odd one, but none to the new house. Lupin smiles his infuriating smile.

"Okay?"

"I don't think I have anywhere for you to put your coat."

"Will the back of a chair do?"

"Yes, I suppose. Come in."

He turns and Lupin follows him into the living room, removing his scarf and coat and draping them over an armchair. The tip of his nose is pink. He rubs his hands together and looks a little lost.

"I hope I haven't missed the turkey?"

"Oh." Severus is slightly taken aback. He doesn't normally do Christmas. "I don't have a turkey."

"Oh."

Severus frowns.

"I have wine or whisky."

Lupin beams and plonks himself in a chair next to the fire.

"Even better."

They play games. Severus wins every round of cards, but Lupin is better at chess. They decide against charades.

There's nothing on the telly.

The first bottle of wine doesn't last long.

He'd somehow managed to pull Lupin away and into the street, although not before Lupin had gotten himself a bloody nose. Lupin had fought him every step of the way.

"Get off me! Get the fuck off me!"

Severus had finally let go of his jacket when they were a safe distance away from the pub. It was quieter outside.

"Why? So you can go and get yourself beaten to a pulp?"

Lupin straightened his jacket sulkily. "I could've taken them."

"No you bloody couldn't. What were you thinking?"

Lupin ran a shaky hand through his hair. He was upset and angry. They both were most of the time, back then. The battles were over too suddenly, and the rage and the hurt which had been commonplace was now inappropriate and volatile. He tried to light a cigarette but it wouldn't catch in the wind, and he threw it away in irritation.

"You could've been arrested. Or is that what you wanted?"

"Piss off."

Severus didn't know why he didn't just walk away. He could have. Except that he was sick of pretending that everything was fine now. He was sick of pretending that the grief and the frustration and the burning indignity of being used and deceived were all finished. And he was a little drunk. And Lupin was the closest person. And sometimes he just wanted to be cruel.

"Still just following the leader?"

"I swear to God…" Lupin was standing very still. The muscles in his jaw clenched. Severus knew he could hurt him, and he smirked. He took a step closer.

"Think maybe you and Black could be bunkmates?" He backed Lupin into a corner. He thought of all the things he could say to cause him pain and he hated himself. "Did you think if you just got him alone in a cell and promised to still be his very best friend he'd finally let you suck him off?"

There was a sudden crack and pain ripped sharply through his jaw. He stumbled backwards and was startled to see blood on the knuckles of Lupin's raised fist. He brought a hand to his face before he realised it wasn't his blood, and by that time Lupin's hands were fisted in his robes and he couldn't back away. He felt the brick wall against his back.

And then Lupin's mouth was on his, and things were happening too fast for him to think too much about it.

It was not a gentle kiss. It was rough and clumsy and selfish. It was more desperation than affection, more need than want. Lupin tasted like alcohol and copper.

When Lupin pulled back, he looked at Snape like he despised him.

"He fucking killed them." He spoke through clenched teeth. Severus didn't know if the hands in his robes were pulling him closer or pushing him away.

The fight went out of him.

"I know."

He didn't know if his hands on Lupin's shoulders were pulling or pushing. Lupin's face softened. He stepped away, ran a hand through his hair.

"I could have done something."

"No you couldn't."

Lupin covered his face for a moment. He took out another cigarette and then put it away again.

"Come home with me."

Severus swallowed. "No, Remus."

Lupin tilted his head to one side, brushed the hair off his forehead. He blinked back tears. "Severus."

"You're drunk." He folded his arms and kicked at a stone. He wouldn't meet Lupin's gaze. The wind whistled.

"Fuck you." Lupin spat. He tugged his jacket tighter around himself and stormed away.

Lupin talks about Teddy. A lot. He tells Severus about his job, his wife, the holiday to Portugal they have planned. He shows him the sonogram of his first grandchild. Severus asks the questions he's supposed to ask (how did they meet? Does he enjoy his work? What will they call her?) and stays away from those he shouldn't (what happened with Tonks? Why are you here?)

Severus raids the kitchen and manages to find enough food for a decent cold supper. He pours more wine and they watch Monty Python. Remus knows the dead parrot sketch word for word, and once sat next to Michael Palin on the Victoria line. Severus believes him, although he pretends he doesn't and Lupin gets indignant.

Remus tells Severus about all of the odd jobs he did when he was young and couldn't keep a position for more than a month. He tells him about concerts and protests and parties and young men who reminded him of Sirius. He tells him about the time he spent four hours in a café because he heard Billy Idol sometimes came in.

Severus tells Remus all of Hogwarts' secrets. He tells him that the reason Wilkes got suspended in fourth year was because he'd been growing weed in the greenhouses, and when Gudgeon lost his eye to the Whomping Willow he'd been skulking off to meet Bertha Jorkins in the Shrieking Shack. He tells him that one year at the staff Halloween party, Professor Sprout had gotten drunk and confessed to him that she'd known about the weed all along.

They take turns sneaking glances at one another.

They take turns pretending not to notice.

Remus had been good looking, when they were younger. He was never as Hollywood handsome as Potter, or as charismatic as Black, but he was definitely good looking.

Severus wasn't. But he was dark-eyed and pale and intense, and that was attractive to some people. Normally the wrong sort of people, but at least he always knew that going in.

He'd always liked the way Remus smiled.

They end up on the back porch with whisky and warming charms, watching the waves crash into the cliffs.

"I shouldn't have married her." They both stare resolutely ahead. "I mean, I did love her. Still do. But we married for the wrong reasons. We were just both scared we'd wind up…" He trails off with a sigh.

"Lonely?"

Remus looks at him.

"What makes you think I'm lonely?"

Severus wants to say 'because you're here with me', but he thinks it's too maudlin, too ungrateful for what has turned out to be a rather pleasant day. So he shrugs instead, and that seems to be answer enough for Remus. They fall silent again. It's surprisingly comfortable.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Severus is apprehensive. "I suppose."

"When you turned me down, was it really because I was drunk?"

Severus doesn't know how to handle this. He doesn't know what Remus wants to hear, and he feels himself getting irritated. He looks at Remus, and the look he receives in return is earnest.

"Please tell me you haven't come here to chase down a forty-year-old kiss?"

"I…no. I just…" He looks away again and fumbles with his scarf. "I always just wondered if there was some other reason. Forget about it."

It's starting to snow again.

"I wasn't a bad kiss though." Remus pulls his coat tighter around his middle. "Was it?"

"Well, you were drunk and bleeding and you'd just punched me in the face. So it wasn't the best kiss I've ever had." Remus looks a little crestfallen, but nods his understanding. Severus think maybe his tone was a bit sharp. "But no. Not bad."

It's getting cold, and their glasses are empty.

Remus is smiling.

"Let's go back in."

Remus walks into the kitchen to find Severus piling dishes up in the sink.

"Here, I got you something." He holds out a small, badly wrapped parcel.

"Oh." Severus wipes his hands on a tea towel and takes the parcel from Remus. "I didn't get you anything." He feels guilty and uncomfortable, and annoyed at Remus for putting him in this situation. Although if he'd thought he would've realised that this is exactly the sort of thing Remus would do. And it would be a thoughtful gift, too. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Remus puts his hands in his pockets and looks at Severus expectantly. Severus looks at the parcel in his hands. He tries to remember the last time he received a Christmas present. He tries to remember the last time he'd felt as content as he has today. He draws a blank.

He thinks that if next Christmas were to pass the same way, he would quite like that.

He thinks that if things had gone differently years ago maybe he'd be different now.

He thinks that Remus is still good looking. And he thinks that he is still not, although he is still dark and pale and intense, and maybe that doesn't always have to attract the wrong sort.

"Are you going to open it?"

Severus puts the parcel down on the counter and takes a step forward. Remus' eyebrows knit together and he starts to say something, but Severus puts his hand on his face, brushes the pad of his thumb along his cheekbone, and he closes his mouth again. Severus puts his other arm around his waist and splays his hand across the small of his back.

He kisses him softly, scared he might break whatever fragile connection they've been building. Remus sighs and presses himself closer. It's unhurried and tender. It's something Severus didn't know he wanted until now. He can feel the warmth of Remus' skin under his clothes and taste the whisky on his lips, and too soon it's over. Remus idly runs his fingers through Severus' hair, their foreheads resting against one another.

"I think I do like the beard." Severus says when he feels like they've been silent too long. Remus laughs quietly and doesn't open his eyes.

"I guess I'll keep it then."

It's a long while before they move.

Severus sees Remus out. He stands in the doorway and they say their farewells. When Remus turns to leave he stops him with a hand on his arm.

"I didn't want you to hate me in the morning."

"I'm sorry?"

"The reason I turned you down. I thought if I went home with you when you were drunk and upset, you'd regret it the next day." He drops his arm and buries his hands in his pockets. "I thought it was the right decision."

"I think it probably was." Remus smiles at him. "Goodnight."

He makes it halfway down the path before Severus stops him again, calling for him over the sound of the wind.

"Come over for New Years. I'll…" He pauses, looking down. Remus likes the silhouette of him, framed in the doorway. Severus shrugs. "I'll get a turkey."

Remus laughs. "New Year." He agrees, raising his hand.

Severus stays where he is until he loses sight of Remus. He smiles to himself, and he closes the door.