a/n: Warning: Ah, this chapter sort of actually does have, like, M-rated stuff in it. And there will be more in future chapters. So, yeah. I warned you and all that.
x.x.x
The Spy Game
x.x.x
Fourteen: Fractional Expressions and Imperfect Wrists
x.x.x
"Look here," Lily whispered, though the library was nearly completely empty save for them and Pince. She pointed to a passage in the textbook that lay on the table between them. "It says that bisecting a 45-45-90 across the hypotenuse creates two more 45-45-90s. Mirror images, see?" she finished, dragging her finger to a diagram at the bottom of the page.
"Hmm." Severus nodded. "But how do we incorporate that into the proof?"
Her green eyes lit up as she explained terms like "bisection" and "reflexive property" and "side-angle-side," and Severus found his mind wandering to Lily and her illuminated eyes—her perfect, illuminated eyes, always fresh and green and alive.
Quite perfect, her eyes. Few people could boast any perfect physical attributes at all, but Lily most definitely possessed two: her eyes and her wrists. Thinking of her second perfect attribute, Severus took Lily's hands from the textbook and turned them so that her palms faced the ceiling.
She paused her lecture and smiled.
Severus loved her wrists most of all. He loved the fragile, soft expanses of vulnerability. They really were perfect, her wrists, so pristine, all white and blue and unmarred, and Severus placed his hands over them, feeling the warmth and the rhythm of her pulse against his fingertips. "Geometry," he whispered, bending to speak into her ear, "is boring."
Lily giggled softly, as if he had said something rather more witty, and he planted a swift peck on her cheek.
"You've got lovely wrists, did you know?" he murmured, setting her hands facedown back on the textbook. He picked up a pencil. "Now stop distracting me and help me finish this proof, would you?"
And Lily laughed and rolled her fresh green eyes and delved into the explanation once more.
x.x.x
The flat was dark and mostly empty.
He'd done it. He'd left.
Orion rolled over on the bare mattress, pulling his jacket around himself for warmth. He had left, and taken a good deal of their belongings with him. The bedspread and the sheets, blankets, all of the clothes except a few things of Orion's, the cutlery and dishware, not to mention the coffee table, oriental rug, and smallest of several bookshelves—including the books, of course.
It was a full eight hours' drive from his former place of residence to his current, and by the time Orion had arrived back at the flat a week ago, the place had been stripped bare, and he was nowhere to be found.
He had warned him, of course. Sworn that if Orion went back to his had-been family, he would leave and never return. But Orion hadn't felt that crack of finality in his chest until he had arrived at the flat—home—and found half of its furnishings and half of its residents gone. Simply gone, and leaving nothing but empty space—around Orion and inside him.
His mind flickered to Walburga, pretty as ever but so much more solemn, and he wondered—often, he wondered—how she must have felt that first morning she woke to an empty bed. The morning after that summer night, warm and buzzing with crickets and nervous energy, when he had finally worked up the courage to leave, to slip out of his bed and out of his family forever.
How much different had her situation then been from his now? Well—Orion hadn't taken anything from the house, he remembered. Only himself. Though sometimes he thought maybe even that had been too much.
Orion buried his face into the one pillow that he had left and sighed. The flat was dark and mostly empty and the night was cold and silent and he was very much alone.
x.x.x
The reception was lovely and not too overdrawn, but Peter let out a breath of relief as the bride and groom kissed, the organ sounded, and the congregation shuffled stiffly out of the sanctuary.
He spotted Susanna at the reception, standing out from the crowd in her pea green bridesmaid dress.
"Glad that's over," he whispered to her as the cake was cut. "Our family sits through enough church without anyone up and getting married."
Susanna laughed. "Mary's married!" she intoned. "Always figured Elizabeth would be the first," she continued, "but, if the name fits—"
Peter rolled his eyes and cut himself a thick slice of wedding cake. "I was surprised Mum was so happy about it, actually," he said. "I mean, she's barely nineteen, and Mark's going on thirty."
"Well, money and all that," Susanna said, her pursed lips conveying a rare bout of seriousness. "He is a doctor."
The conversation was halted as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley approached, trailed by a whole brood of redheaded children and grandchildren.
"Peter, Susie!" Mr. Weasley greeted with a smile. "You must be very happy for your older sister, hmm? March is such a lovely month for weddings."
x.x.x
Her sister cut the waffle into halves.
Lily tapped her finger on the edge of the table—one, two, please, eat.
And then into quarters.
One, two, three, four, eat, your, break, fast.
"Aren't you hungry?" Lily asked, trying desperately to smooth over the edge in her voice.
Petunia frowned and shrugged. She cut the waffle into eighths.
One and, two and, three and, four and, eat eat, please eat, Jesus, just eat.
She cut an eighth into two sixteenths.
"Just eat the bloody waffle!" Lily cried suddenly, slamming her hand onto the wooden table.
She saw Petunia flinch and wished that she hadn't yelled like that, and wished that their mum would hurry up and come downstairs because she handled these sorts of things so much better than Lily did.
But now, Petunia impaled exactly one-sixteenth of the waffle on her fork, brought it to her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. She repeated this with the second sixteenth and two more eighths.
Lily breathed. "Sorry," she murmured.
Petunia ate another two eighths.
x.x.x
After two weeks, Orion bought a new bedspread. New sheets and blankets.
Three weeks, new dishes. New cutlery.
Four weeks, he scraped together all he had (and sold two of the four kitchen chairs) to pay the rent.
Five weeks, and he waltzed right back in, bringing with him several full suitcases, a rolled-up oriental rug, a small bookshelf (plus books), and an old wooden coffee table.
Orion looked up from the table where he had been eating a breakfast of toast and jam as he closed the door behind himself, casual as ever.
"I'm home," the man said, a little smirk playing on his lips. "I see that you are too."
Orion said nothing, simply gazed at the dark but graying hair and sharp, brilliant blue eyes, not quite sure whether to tremble in fear or sigh in relief.
"Brought back the coffee table," he said casually. "And all the rest of it. I suppose the family reunion didn't go as planned?"
Orion's throat closed. "You—you were right, of course," he said. "I don't belong there anymore." He ran a hand through his hair anxiously. "Never should've gone back."
The other man said nothing, but he walked up to Orion and gave him a harsh kiss on the mouth. "Of course I was," he said gently. "Now—no more crazy ideas of going back to them, hmm?" And he gripped Orion's neck only a bit more tightly than simple concern necessitated.
Orion shook his head. "No," he murmured. "Never. Never should have left you. I was—when I came back, it was—lonely. I thought—thought you'd really gone for good."
"Of course not," the other man said, releasing his grip on Orion's neck and planting a gentler kiss over his right eye, which was back to its normal hue. Still, Orion felt a phantom pain. "You simply needed to be—taught a lesson," he finished after a brief pause. And he laughed, as light and chilling as a gust of cold air. "No one gets rid of Tom Riddle that easily."
x.x.x
The afternoon glowed with a lazy warmth that only the bright sun of July could achieved, and Sirius stretched and leaned against the trunk of the willow.
He felt the warmth of the day pool in the bottom of his stomach as he watched Remus lick the last gooey traces of chocolate from his lips and his fingers.
"It's next year," Sirius said.
"It's this year," Remus replied, smacking his lips and grinning.
"Well—it sure as hell isn't last year."
"No," Remus agreed. "No, it—it's not last year."
Sirius leaned over just enough to brush his lips to Remus', still sticky-sweet from the chocolate. As he pulled back he noticed that Remus' cheeks were flushed bright pink, though whether from the heat of the day or the heat of the kiss Sirius couldn't tell.
"Happy birthday, you bloody chocolate fiend."
Remus laughed, and the day became that much warmer.
x.x.x
"Damn it," Severus said, tossing the butt of his cigarette on the ground and stepping on it with the heel of his shoe as he fished through his pockets fruitlessly. "Anyone got a stick of gum?"
The general consensus was no, and Severus cursed again.
"What's it to you, anyways?" Avery asked.
He blushed. "I'm—meeting with—someone. In"—he grabbed Rosier's arm and peered at his wristwatch—"five minutes."
"Aha!" Rosier cried, snatching his arm back and puckering his lips into an exaggerated kiss. "Meetin' with the girlfriend, eh? Mwah, mwah, mwah—Snap-ey and Lil-y, sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i—"
"Christ, Rosie," Severus cut in with a scowl, "are you five bloody years old or something?"
Mulciber smirked. Avery laughed and gave Rosier a small shove. "Rosie, huh? Very nice. Like you've always said—guy's a real wit."
"Oh, fuck the lot of ya," Rosier declared in good humor.
"Yeah, well, plenty of time of that later," Severus said, standing up from the park bench. "Tragically, I am compelled to abandon this gathering of juvenile delinquents."
"That's right!" Rosier called as he walked away. "Gotta brush them pearlies, eh? Don't wanna smell like fags for the girlfriend."
That was exactly his plan, and Severus stifled a frown at what was either Rosier's insight or his own transparency. Instead, he smirked.
"You've got it, Rosie," he called back as he made his way down the street. "And don't you damned forget it."
x.x.x
"Sev!" Lily exclaimed as she opened the door. "You're fifteen minutes late. Where've you been?"
Brushing my teeth and changing my clothes so that I wouldn't have to listen to you nag, but that was apparently too much to hope for. "Oh, you know," he said with a shrug. "Nowhere important. We'd better get to work on naming those binary compounds, hmm? First exam of the year and all."
She frowned disapprovingly as she led him inside. "You were with those boys, weren't you?"
Severus put on the most innocent face he could muster, which made him look not very innocent at all but at least slightly less jaded than usual. "Which boys?"
She rolled her green eyes. "Those boys, Severus. Those good-for-nothing—punks— who seem to have taken a liking to you."
He smirked. "Well, Lily, you can hardly blame me for being so naturally likeable."
This comment put a pretty little grin on her face, and Severus felt his stomach jump.
"Well, there is that, of course," she said with a bit of facetious indulgence. "But—maybe—just in this case—you could try to be, you know, a little less charismatic. I know it's hard for you, being such a people person."
He let out a soft chuckle.
"But—I really don't like them," she continued more seriously. "They—they skip class, Severus, and they smoke, and they certainly don't—well. And that one bloke—is his name Mulciber? He just scares me. Does he ever speak?"
Severus shrugged. "He's a man of few words."
She smiled a little, then seemed to remember that she was reprimanding him and pursed her lips. "I just think that—the thing is—you're just—you're better than that, Severus. You know?"
No, Severus didn't know, because he wasn't better than that. Not by a long shot. But his chest warmed considerably with the knowledge that Lily considered him better than that.
"I just mean—you could really do things, you know? You could—you could go to University, if that's what you wanted. In five years, I mean, who knows where that lot will be? Prison, most likely. But what about you, Sev? Where do you want to be?"
Wherever you are.
"I'm—well—I'll stop," Lily said with a tiny blush. "Sorry. You didn't come here for me to lecture you."
"Oh, but you're so good at it," Severus said in an only slightly mocking tone.
She smiled and slapped him on the arm playfully. "Do you want to study chemistry, or what?"
He quirked an eyebrow suggestively and Lily burst into a fit of giggles before stepping on his foot ("Jesus, woman, that hurt!") and taking him to the living room, where her science book lay on the couch.
x.x.x
"Put your damned book away and take out the trash," Tobias ordered, his voice cold and unyielding. "And then you can do the dishes, since your mother isn't—feeling up to it, right now."
"No," his said, feeling strangely bold, and turned the page in his text. "I have an exam tomorrow. Do the dishes yourself and I'll take out the trash tomorrow."
Tobias walked from the doorway of Severus' room to the bed, where Severus sat with his chemistry book open in front of him.
Fuck, why did I say that? I'm a fucking idiot, stupid, stupid, damn it. Looking for a beating, huh? Just gagging for it.
"Did you hear me, you son of a bitch? I am your fatherand I am telling you to put the book away. Now."
Defiantly, Severus turned another page, though he hadn't finished reading the previous one.
Severus saw his father clench his calloused fists, but felt the impact of the punch before he had a chance to duck. He reeled backwards on the bed, knocking his textbook to the floor.
Shouldn't have done that, shouldn't have done that. Why do I have to be so obstinate, for God's sake? I knew what was coming, I knew, I knew. Christ, but I must be gagging for a good bruising.
His father picked up the book from the floor and left the room.
Severus jumped off the bed and quickly followed his father across the little one-story house, all the way to the bathroom.
"You think you're so fucking clever, huh?" his father sneered, holding the textbook over his head.
Severus kept his mouth shut, unsure of why his father had lured him here with his textbook, but his stomach felt queasy, full of sour suspicion.
"So proud of your silly grades, aren't you? Your pathetic excuse for an education. Does it make you feel superior? You think you're so much smarter than your old man?"
He said nothing.
"Probably have all these pretty little dreams about going to University, hmm? Spent all of Sunday afternoon with that pretty little friend of yours. Studying then, too, were you? Privileged bitch has probably put all sorts of pretty little ideas in your head."
Severus bit his lip and crossed his arms, feeling that his abdomen had been bisected, sliced open, right in two, the skin peeled back roughly, and now all of his insides were suddenly vulnerable to the cruel scrutiny of his father. "She's—she's not a privileged bitch," he murmured, trying desperately to keep his now-exposed guts from spilling all over the bathroom floor.
His father laughed, cold and sharp and jarring to Severus' ears. "Education isn't for the likes of you, boy. Who's going to pay for you to go to University, huh? Have you got a father hiding around here somewhere with the money for that? Better yet—a father who actually gives a shit?"
His father held the textbook over the toilet bowl, and Severus felt his breath catch in his throat. No, no, no, no, no.
He dropped it. The book made a marvelous splash as it landed in the loo and a bit of toilet water spilled onto the bathroom floor.
And Severus' guts spilled everywhere.
"Because that's what your pretty little dreams and your pretty little grades are worth, boy. Shit. Now take out the God-forsaken trash."
And so he did. And then he washed the dishes. And then, when his father was in bed, Severus snuck into the bathroom, rolled up his sleeves, and attempted to salvage the soggy remains of his chemistry book.
x.x.x
The metal cuffs were digging into his wrists, but Orion knew better than to struggle. In front of his eyes was nothing but darkness, thick blankets of black, but he could feel the bruising touch of the cuffs and the bruising touch of Tom, who was silent except for his light breathing, and whose elegant hand was cold and cruel as the metal around Orion's wrists.
A finger.
He chewed into his lip to keep from gasping.
A fist.
He gasped.
"I think we're about ready," Tom whispered.
x.x.x
Orion's weeks were divided into two categories: weeks when Tom worked, and the weeks when Tom didn't, though the latter happened seldom at most.
Weeks when Tom worked were divided into five days of Orion being mostly left alone and two days of Orion being used as a human punching bag. They were divided into four nights of uninterrupted sleep, two nights of painfully rough fucking, and one night of only slightly rough makeup sex.
Tonight was Saturday night, and Tom had been started his workweek on Monday.
x.x.x
Tom quickly flicked on the light switch, and the darkness of the bedroom was drowned by the fluorescent overhead.
Blue jeans still unzipped and unbuttoned, and shirttail still untucked, he fished a key from his pocket and unlocked Orion's manacles.
Naked and sticky with sweat, Orion fell limply to the mattress and curled in on himself. Rings of purple and black bloomed around his wrists, and he pulled his hands to his chest.
Tom stepped out of his jeans and quickly unbuttoned and shed his shirt. Adjusting his boxer shorts, he turned the light back off and the two men were once more blanketed in darkness.
Orion felt rather than saw Tom slipping into bed next to him, pulling the covers over them both. And he heard rather than felt Tom's whisper of "Goodnight, love," in his ear.
x.x.x
"University?" Rosier repeated, apparently taken by surprise.
"Well, yeah," Severus said. "I just mean—haven't you ever thought about it? You're a year ahead of me. Only the rest of this year and then next before you're out of school."
Rosier laughed. "University, the bloke says. Look, Snape, you're smart, and not just in the booky way. You oughta know that blokes like me—an' even a brain like you—ain't cut out for Uni."
Severus shrugged. "Well, I don't see why not," he said quietly. "Maybe you're not an exemplary student, but you're not an idiot. You're still in school, at least. You could get into University if you tried."
"You're fuckin' kidding, right?" he scoffed. "I woulda dropped out of the first grade if it was legal, and if I'd had anything what was better to do. As it is, soon as I'm outta school, I'm out on my arse, far as my folks are concerned. And my folks' place is a living hell, but it's a living hell with a roof and some sort of excuse food in the pantry more often than not. You think they'll pay for Uni?"
Severus bit his lip and said nothing, because he knew the answer and he hated it.
"Never took you for naïve, Snape. But Uni's for the privileged lot, not the likes of us. Only reason I stick around in school is so's I don't have to get out and work just yet. My cousin—Jesus—he's two years older than me and he dropped out what when he was sixteen. And now, that bloke works. Bleeding steel mill. Shit job's what it is, and dangerous, too. But as soon as I'm outta school, I'll prob'ly be in line for another shit job at that same mill. If I'm lucky. And if you're smart as what I think you are, you'd line somethin' like that up, too. Get outta your hell hole, and get a job that'll get you some pay, 'cause no one's gonna just hand you food for going to Uni and shovin' your nose in a book."
x.x.x
A week after the first examination of the year, Mr. Slughorn greeted his class with a jovial laugh, tugging at his thick, graying mustache as he handed back the test papers.
"Some fared better than others, to be sure," he said, "but your class did well on a whole. In fact, I think we've got at least a couple who ought to consider studying chemistry at the University level in a few years." The heavy-set teacher aimed a rather unsubtle wink at the two-to-a-table desk where Severus and Lily sat.
Severus smiled a little at seeing his perfect score, but his teacher's words had nonetheless caused an uneasiness to settle at the bottom of his stomach.
Lily peered at his examination over his shoulder. "Nice job," she whispered.
"Thanks. And you?" he asked.
"Same."
He grinned. "Maybe at least one of us will take old Slughorn's advice, hmm?"
A tiny smile played on her lips. "Maybe. But what about the other?"
Severus shrugged. "More than anything, I'd like to study the sciences," he whispered. "But University is—it's not something for everyone."
Lily frowned and opened her mouth as if to argue, but promptly closed it and pulled out her notebook when Slughorn cleared his throat and began to lecture.
x.x.x
The mid-December cold was brutal on stringed instruments, and Peter spent nearly twenty minutes in his bedroom tuning his violin in preparation for his youth orchestra's Christmas recital that night.
Since Elizabeth and Mary had left home, Susanna had abandoned the room she and Mary once shared and taken to sleeping in their mum's room, giving Peter the vacated bedroom that was painted pink and smelled like girl.
At first, she had invited Peter to share it with her, but their mother had declared that "no, really, at your age that's simply indecent, and why don't we just move one of the twin beds so that you can sleep in the big bedroom with me, Susie?"
Which was perfectly fine with Peter. Ever since he had moved into his sisters' old room, he'd felt freer than ever to practice as much as he wished. He could simply close the door and not have to worry about Susanna exclaiming that she was on the phone or his mother pleading for some quiet while she graded papers.
Also, he had taken his first violin—his shoebox, as he now fondly thought of it—from the bottom of his mother's wardrobe and proudly placed it on top of the dresser like a trophy. Sometimes, while he was sitting on the bed and doing his homework, Peter would glance at the little violin and smile.
He finished tuning his current violin—a pricey full-size, on loan from the music store, that gave a lovely, bright sound—and then packed it up, knowing he would have to retune it when he arrived at the concert hall.
"Mum!" he called. "We've got to be there in half an hour!"
x.x.x
"Fucking slut," Tom spat. "Fucking slut of a faggot."
Crack and blood and a nose that might heal but would never look quite the same.
Orion cringed, because how and when did everything turn sour? When had he become soft and bruised and unwanted like a piece of overripe fruit? A pear, or a plum.
There was a reason he had left his family for Tom so long ago. There must have been a reason.
He breathed in and coughed, sending droplets of blood flying, spattering his shirt. He clutched his nose protectively.
There was a reason, but Orion no longer remembered it.
"I'm leabin'," he choked out as best he could through a fistful of blood. Leaning against the wall for the support, Orion sank to the floor. He looked up into the frigid blue eyes of the other man and felt a shiver run up his spine.
x.x.x
don't be a coward orion just say it i have to say it what can he do to you huh he can't do anything to me he hasn't already and i'm not trapped here am i no i don't see the handcuffs anywhere
x.x.x
"I'm leaving," he repeated as clearly as he could with his hand still over his nose. "For good."
"Oh no," Tom replied casually, his voice like a razorblade. "No one leaves Tom Riddle."
Orion barely had a chance to feel the blow of the boot to the side of his head before the world turned black.
x.x.x
He woke in a heap on the floor, his shirt rumpled and caked in dried blood, alone and disoriented.
Stretching his aching limbs, Orion crept into the bedroom to find Tom, in bed and asleep.
He quietly opened the dresser and found a clean shirt, hurriedly changed, and walked out of the bedroom to the front door of the flat.
x.x.x
c'mon orion now's my chance now's your fucking chance and you've done this before haven't you yeah i've done so much leaving i should be a right pro by now you should be a pro
x.x.x
He left.
x.x.x
a/n: You know what I want (besides Sirius, Remus, and lots of chocolate).