A/N: I love you all SOOOOOO much for reviewing!!!!!! You've been real nice
to me, people I do appreciate. Not a single flamer among you!
The Marvellous Mad Madam Rene: first, I like your name. Then, I like to know that you read my fic regularly!
Kimagure.. you haven't seen or rather read anything YET… wait till you learn what ice carving is all about…( Hope you'll like the idea too, I really am one for pseudo-scientific reasoning… too much Matheson and Simak in my youth, no doubt..
Sugahcat: Well, you know, not defining anything WAS for slash-lovers like you… I must admit I'm rather partial to slash myself, but my aim in this fic is to make an absolutely awful story without a single really violent or licentious passage… I think it doesn't take that to make a story angsty!
The World in general: I'm really getting the hang of this, you know? *beams proudly* Nah.. I just do my best. Actually, there are not all that many chapters left in this fic for me to write, so I should be moving on to another one rather soon.. Anyone wishing for something special they haven't ever seen before? I'll write ANYTHING, promise. Well.. almost.
Oh, and, I'm so sorry for taking so long to update: the odds of destiny and orientation, you know… well, I'm sorry anyway..
So many shattered hopes… Back in his room, Remus dropped on his bed and stayed like that, looking straight at the ceiling, or rather straight through it. Simons had found Severus' notebook, and for just one second, he had hoped that all was not lost, that the carvings could still be reproduced… but Severus never wrote things down. His notebook was more a prop than anything else, all was stored in his head. And all had vanished with him.
Simons had seemed pretty confused when Remus tore the book from his hand, asking him frantically whether it mentioned ice carvings anywhere. He couldn't blame him, really: without Severus' explanations, he would never have thought these carvings had any real importance other than aesthetic. His life had revolved around them for so long that he was amazed that he couldn't make them himself from memory. Yet that wouldn't work: it had to be calculated to the tenth of a degree… Severus had spent months working this out. His masterpiece. And the most wonderful Christmas present ever… [don't cry, you idiot. Don't think about how things could have turned out. He's dead. They're all dead. You're alone.]
Only once had he not felt alone. [Why does it always get back to *him*?] It was the in-between time, he realised. An enchanted parenthesis in both their lives, before reality caught up with them and took its revenge. It started the very evening after the Potions' Master had told him about the Wolfsbane Potion.
Flashback///
[This can't be.] But it is, Remus told himself. And I'm not even given a choice. He remained standing just as Severus had left him, too shocked to follow or collapse, let alone call after him. After a while, he got to pacing the room absent-mindedly. [There's no way out of this.] he had been on the brink of suicide, when suddenly the potion offered new, if not vast perspectives for his life. Yet there was no way Severus could have known that. It was ironic, really, he thought with a wry smile. Wolfsbane Potion in itself WAS a means of committing suicide.
Without him noticing, his restless pacing had taken him out of his room and about the moonlit corridors. He slumped on a cold stone step, oblivious of his surroundings. It seemed oddly fitting that he should be physically as lost as he felt in his mind, he mused.
That was it. He couldn't take any more waiting, and he knew for a fact that Remus wouldn't be sleeping either, despite the late hour. He might be giving the man false hopes, but there was nothing better to offer him as yet anyway. In one fluid movement, he rose from his armchair, not bothering to pick up the heavy volume that had fallen from his lap with a dull thud in the process. [I only hope that my calculations are right… It would be the death of him, if I'd got it all wrong… But then again, if I'm right…] Unbidden, a flame of pride surged through his heart, bestowing a new spring to his step and new assurance to his mind. I would work, it had to. The world could only take so much inequity. And Remus had already got his share of that, if not more.
The Potions' Master tripped over a slumped form in the darkness. It didn't cry out, just pushed harder against the stone wall as if trying to melt into it and vanish like Peeves or any decent ghost would. A ray of moonlight briefly caught to strands of tawny golden hair, frosted with silver. He reached out tentatively and gently shook the figure by the shoulder. "Remus?"
No doubt was left when two impossibly wide amber eyes looked blindly up to him, blurred with confusion, despair, and something more. Something … tired. The man looked like and exhausted rag doll. Severus couldn't believe his eyes. [You shouldn't be surprised; that was only to be expected…] The sight of his exquisitely calm, patient and polite colleague looking so vulnerable made him inexplicably uneasy. He looked.. haunted. Treading his reluctance and uneae, Severus collected his spirits and unceremoniously lifted the werewolf to his feet. As he didn't seem in any condition to stand, albeit walk, he half dragged, half carried him back to his room.
He mumbled a hurried spell to start a fire, set Remus in his armchair in front of it, immediately setting a kettle to boil. And as he did so, he thought. [Damn. I never imagined he would be THAT shocked…] he felt a pang of guilt at that. He should have been less brutal. Still, he wasn't about to admit that. It was bad enough that he was bustling like a housemaid over tea for two, and carrying a stunned werewolf around Hogwarts. Where had his dignity got to?
Half a teapot later, Remus seemed more or less to come to his senses. His expression began confused.. on to surprised, shifting rapidly to apologetic.
"I'm so sorry Severus, I seem to have been somewhat disturbed. I hope I didn't put you into too much trouble…" His voice was shaking slightly, though he took pains to make it sound firm. [Always well-mannered, eh? Well, at least that means he's back to almost normal…] Severus barely restrained an affectionate smile from spreading over his features upon hearing his almost friend's perfect British accent, but he checked himself and his expression remained wooden.
"Remus.. seeing how our prior conversation has affected you, I think I should put you wise to a few things immediately." His voice was grave but held none of the gloomy intonations he often sported. Remus actually sensed something like excitation in its pitch, and that sparked up something, hope, somewhere… He sat up, put his cup down, listening intently, his eyes fixed on Severus' face.
"It concerns ice carving."
/// Present.
Remus couldn't remember every single word spoken that evening, Severus' hopeful intonations, the glimmer in his eye as he became more and more animated , exposing his theories… [Never again. He will never use that brilliant mind of his again, never contaminate you with his passionate enthusiasms again…]
He absent-mindedly watched the ice-cubes floating in his drink. He drank alone in the evenings, these days, and it took twice as long to finish a bottle, without Severus. The ice bobbed randomly in the amber liquid that matched his eyes perfectly. Ice had been a brilliant idea.
Severus had tried it out with glass and many other less ephemeral materials without success. Only ice did the trick. At first, Remus had been left speechless by the amount of effort he had put into it: hours spent tirelessly calculating angles, taking measures in the clearing, shaping gigantic ice blocks as soon as winter allowed it… All that from a simple hunch, without any assurance of success. For him, and for the love of science. Hz had told Severus a much and only managed to embarrass him, it seemed.
"I like you. Your affliction has always fascinated me just as much as it scared me. I guess it's all Black's fault… I got to studying, after that incident, and well…And I liked you. You're civilised." All this had been said reluctantly, as if each word of justification cost him a strenuous effort, eyes averted. When he had finally lifted them and read the admiration and gratitude in Remus', he had blushed as a schoolboy. Then, hesitatingly at first, but gaining confidence as he spoke, he had warned him about the possibility of it all being just wind, forcefully and mercilessly assessing every argument in favour of a mistake on his part.
[Poor Sev. It wasn't his ability he should have been worried over.] Remus drowned half his drink in one gulp, feeling the alcohol seep soothingly through his veins. [ You were too sincere for this world, in your way, Severus Snape. There's no such thing as luck and no such thing as a quota of inequity. ] Inside his glass, the ice cubes started to melt.
The Marvellous Mad Madam Rene: first, I like your name. Then, I like to know that you read my fic regularly!
Kimagure.. you haven't seen or rather read anything YET… wait till you learn what ice carving is all about…( Hope you'll like the idea too, I really am one for pseudo-scientific reasoning… too much Matheson and Simak in my youth, no doubt..
Sugahcat: Well, you know, not defining anything WAS for slash-lovers like you… I must admit I'm rather partial to slash myself, but my aim in this fic is to make an absolutely awful story without a single really violent or licentious passage… I think it doesn't take that to make a story angsty!
The World in general: I'm really getting the hang of this, you know? *beams proudly* Nah.. I just do my best. Actually, there are not all that many chapters left in this fic for me to write, so I should be moving on to another one rather soon.. Anyone wishing for something special they haven't ever seen before? I'll write ANYTHING, promise. Well.. almost.
Oh, and, I'm so sorry for taking so long to update: the odds of destiny and orientation, you know… well, I'm sorry anyway..
So many shattered hopes… Back in his room, Remus dropped on his bed and stayed like that, looking straight at the ceiling, or rather straight through it. Simons had found Severus' notebook, and for just one second, he had hoped that all was not lost, that the carvings could still be reproduced… but Severus never wrote things down. His notebook was more a prop than anything else, all was stored in his head. And all had vanished with him.
Simons had seemed pretty confused when Remus tore the book from his hand, asking him frantically whether it mentioned ice carvings anywhere. He couldn't blame him, really: without Severus' explanations, he would never have thought these carvings had any real importance other than aesthetic. His life had revolved around them for so long that he was amazed that he couldn't make them himself from memory. Yet that wouldn't work: it had to be calculated to the tenth of a degree… Severus had spent months working this out. His masterpiece. And the most wonderful Christmas present ever… [don't cry, you idiot. Don't think about how things could have turned out. He's dead. They're all dead. You're alone.]
Only once had he not felt alone. [Why does it always get back to *him*?] It was the in-between time, he realised. An enchanted parenthesis in both their lives, before reality caught up with them and took its revenge. It started the very evening after the Potions' Master had told him about the Wolfsbane Potion.
Flashback///
[This can't be.] But it is, Remus told himself. And I'm not even given a choice. He remained standing just as Severus had left him, too shocked to follow or collapse, let alone call after him. After a while, he got to pacing the room absent-mindedly. [There's no way out of this.] he had been on the brink of suicide, when suddenly the potion offered new, if not vast perspectives for his life. Yet there was no way Severus could have known that. It was ironic, really, he thought with a wry smile. Wolfsbane Potion in itself WAS a means of committing suicide.
Without him noticing, his restless pacing had taken him out of his room and about the moonlit corridors. He slumped on a cold stone step, oblivious of his surroundings. It seemed oddly fitting that he should be physically as lost as he felt in his mind, he mused.
That was it. He couldn't take any more waiting, and he knew for a fact that Remus wouldn't be sleeping either, despite the late hour. He might be giving the man false hopes, but there was nothing better to offer him as yet anyway. In one fluid movement, he rose from his armchair, not bothering to pick up the heavy volume that had fallen from his lap with a dull thud in the process. [I only hope that my calculations are right… It would be the death of him, if I'd got it all wrong… But then again, if I'm right…] Unbidden, a flame of pride surged through his heart, bestowing a new spring to his step and new assurance to his mind. I would work, it had to. The world could only take so much inequity. And Remus had already got his share of that, if not more.
The Potions' Master tripped over a slumped form in the darkness. It didn't cry out, just pushed harder against the stone wall as if trying to melt into it and vanish like Peeves or any decent ghost would. A ray of moonlight briefly caught to strands of tawny golden hair, frosted with silver. He reached out tentatively and gently shook the figure by the shoulder. "Remus?"
No doubt was left when two impossibly wide amber eyes looked blindly up to him, blurred with confusion, despair, and something more. Something … tired. The man looked like and exhausted rag doll. Severus couldn't believe his eyes. [You shouldn't be surprised; that was only to be expected…] The sight of his exquisitely calm, patient and polite colleague looking so vulnerable made him inexplicably uneasy. He looked.. haunted. Treading his reluctance and uneae, Severus collected his spirits and unceremoniously lifted the werewolf to his feet. As he didn't seem in any condition to stand, albeit walk, he half dragged, half carried him back to his room.
He mumbled a hurried spell to start a fire, set Remus in his armchair in front of it, immediately setting a kettle to boil. And as he did so, he thought. [Damn. I never imagined he would be THAT shocked…] he felt a pang of guilt at that. He should have been less brutal. Still, he wasn't about to admit that. It was bad enough that he was bustling like a housemaid over tea for two, and carrying a stunned werewolf around Hogwarts. Where had his dignity got to?
Half a teapot later, Remus seemed more or less to come to his senses. His expression began confused.. on to surprised, shifting rapidly to apologetic.
"I'm so sorry Severus, I seem to have been somewhat disturbed. I hope I didn't put you into too much trouble…" His voice was shaking slightly, though he took pains to make it sound firm. [Always well-mannered, eh? Well, at least that means he's back to almost normal…] Severus barely restrained an affectionate smile from spreading over his features upon hearing his almost friend's perfect British accent, but he checked himself and his expression remained wooden.
"Remus.. seeing how our prior conversation has affected you, I think I should put you wise to a few things immediately." His voice was grave but held none of the gloomy intonations he often sported. Remus actually sensed something like excitation in its pitch, and that sparked up something, hope, somewhere… He sat up, put his cup down, listening intently, his eyes fixed on Severus' face.
"It concerns ice carving."
/// Present.
Remus couldn't remember every single word spoken that evening, Severus' hopeful intonations, the glimmer in his eye as he became more and more animated , exposing his theories… [Never again. He will never use that brilliant mind of his again, never contaminate you with his passionate enthusiasms again…]
He absent-mindedly watched the ice-cubes floating in his drink. He drank alone in the evenings, these days, and it took twice as long to finish a bottle, without Severus. The ice bobbed randomly in the amber liquid that matched his eyes perfectly. Ice had been a brilliant idea.
Severus had tried it out with glass and many other less ephemeral materials without success. Only ice did the trick. At first, Remus had been left speechless by the amount of effort he had put into it: hours spent tirelessly calculating angles, taking measures in the clearing, shaping gigantic ice blocks as soon as winter allowed it… All that from a simple hunch, without any assurance of success. For him, and for the love of science. Hz had told Severus a much and only managed to embarrass him, it seemed.
"I like you. Your affliction has always fascinated me just as much as it scared me. I guess it's all Black's fault… I got to studying, after that incident, and well…And I liked you. You're civilised." All this had been said reluctantly, as if each word of justification cost him a strenuous effort, eyes averted. When he had finally lifted them and read the admiration and gratitude in Remus', he had blushed as a schoolboy. Then, hesitatingly at first, but gaining confidence as he spoke, he had warned him about the possibility of it all being just wind, forcefully and mercilessly assessing every argument in favour of a mistake on his part.
[Poor Sev. It wasn't his ability he should have been worried over.] Remus drowned half his drink in one gulp, feeling the alcohol seep soothingly through his veins. [ You were too sincere for this world, in your way, Severus Snape. There's no such thing as luck and no such thing as a quota of inequity. ] Inside his glass, the ice cubes started to melt.
