Title: Side Effects 11/?
Author: Mimine
Disclaimer: Not mine. JKR's. No infringement intended.
Notes: My gratitude to Fara for her super extra fast beta.
A/N: I know it's been a while since I last updated but repeated viewings of the Two Towers brought on a very insistent Grima Muse. I'm done with her for now and will only be writing this story and Severus' Secret Diary (an NC-17 fic that I don't keep here, of course) until the new book comes out. I love you for reading and for staying with this story even though I've been treating it horribly.
Snape didn't know what time it was but it was definitely late – or, perhaps more accurately, early in the morning. He stared under his lashes, not letting the boy who was peering through the half-open door, see that he was aware of the scrutiny. Eventually, Fitch-Fletchley closed the door gently behind him. The wizard turned to the luminous display of the clock on his bedside table. No seventeen-year-old should be allowed to return home a few hours before dawn.
Black had stirred, giving out a soft whimper when the light from the open door hit him. His covers had nearly fallen off him, only his sheet remaining, which was wrapped around his waist like a belt. He slept in his boxer shorts. Even after the boy had closed the door, the image had remained behind Severus' eyelids, as if burned there. After a while his eyes got accustomed to the darkness again. He got up then, approached the animagus and brought his covers over his half naked body. Because that had been no way to appear in front of the boy and because… he had to be cold, hadn't he? Snape snorted at himself in the darkness, stamping on the last thought before it would be voiced and dismissing it along with the thought that the sight of the half naked wizard sleeping a few feet away from him had to be covered up if he was to get any more sleep.
The morning came, cold and grey. Snape was quite unwilling to leave the warmth of his bed, the woolen brown blankets and sensible white cotton sheets that had been the only thing he had allowed Black to provide. The animagus had made an unnecessary display of his transfiguration skills the previous night, managing to wear thin Severus' already limited patience.
Black gave out a small whimper and changed sides as Snape passed him on his way to the bathroom they were sharing. Snape thought of waking him; it would be best to meet the boy together. Another whimper met Snape's attempt at the idea, so the Potions Master shrugged and got dressed alone before making his way downstairs.
It was a good two hours before Black joined him in the kitchen, hair pulled back, unshaven, the epitome of rugged charm. Their young host was still not up. Snape was sipping on his second cup of strong tea and studying his research notes. Or at least, that's what he hoped it must look like. In reality he had been staring at the same page for at least an hour. It told of a usual day for Remus towards the end: getting up, getting sick, probably from Severus' latest brew, taking his tonic intravenously along with a joke about getting himself a few more scars in his late age… all in impersonal little notes: the patient this, the patient that… Page after page of failed potions, failed trust, failed hope. Some bore telling round smudges on the ink, tears of frustration that Snape didn't really remember crying. He had known that it would be hard to read his notes again but nothing had prepared him for this.
"Are you going to stare at me all day?"
Black sighed and sat opposite him. "Anything to eat?" he asked.
Snape didn't raise his head from his file. "Unless you cleared the refridgerator yesterday, there should be plenty."
"Fridge."
"Pardon me?"
"Most people call it a fridge and you should have paid it a visit. Don't tell me you've had nothing but tea all morning!"
"I'm not telling you," Snape murmured, taking a sip of his tea.
"Severus…"
He closed his file abruptly. "Will you let me work?" Or at least pretend?
"I'm here to help you!" Black replied and there was such honesty in his tone, such warmth that Snape just stared at him for a moment, disconcerted.
"Help me? That will be in four days. You will assume your canine form and try to stop the other canine in the house from making me its dinner. I imagine there will be much frolicking in the grass and butt sniffing involved."
"Don't count on the butt sniffing. I am told I am rather vicious," a voice was heard behind them.
Neither of them had heard the boy come down.
"Fuck!" Black whispered. Snape's feelings echoed the expletive but he managed to stop his face from colouring through sheer force of will.
Despite having taught the boy for five years, now Snape wouldn't have recognised him in the street. Their young host looked older than his years. His dark hair was spiked and there were faint smudges of what could have only been black eyeliner around his eyes. His mouth seemed too small to contain his teeth, his chin strong, his cheekbones high. He was painfully thin and his tight black clothes gave him the rather unflattering impression of a stick figure.
"Hello Professor Snape. And…" he turned to the other wizard with a questioning expression.
"Mr Black is also a professor at Hogwarts."
"Teaching what?"
"Quidditch," Snape replied flatly.
"And flying, I share the responsibility with Mr Wood."
"I see. War hero Oliver Wood, if I'm not mistaken." He looked Black up and down. "It is hard to keep track of these things. It was hard even back when I was still a part of your world."
Snape fixed the boy with a glare that apparently still worked.
"Mr Fitch-Fletchley…"
"Justin."
Snape nodded. "Justin. Both Professor Black and I could have found better ways to spend our vacation…"
"I never asked you to come here!"
"Do not interrupt me! It appears that Headmaster Dumbledore is feeling your absence from 'our world', as you put it and he would like to see you return."
The mention of Dumbledore's name softened the boy's petulant expression.
"Now… why don't we discuss all that with a full stomach?"
Justin seemed to welcome Black's interruption. Snape fixed the animagus with a glare that- unsurprisingly- didn't work.
An hour and a hearty breakfast later all was much quieter in the small kitchen. The boy had exhibited an overwhelming appetite, praising Black's culinary skills so much that Snape had been forced to try at least the omelette to see what the fuss was about.
The fuss had been justified but Snape wasn't going to give Black the satisfaction of knowing that.
He let his eyes rest on the animagus' back. Shiny, black hair caught in a ponytail yet still reaching almost down to his waist. A brown sweater which would have been shapeless on just about anyone else, letting the observer guess the broad shoulders, the muscular back and narrow waist. And a pair of jeans, tight on long legs, taut on round, firm… and Snape had to stop and tear his gaze away. It would not do to get an erection right in the middle of the Fitch-Fletchley's kitchen while watching Black flip a bloody crumpet.
He turned his attention to the boy instead.
"You said something about being a vicious werewolf. I was under the impression that the Headmaster had you under wolfsbane."
A pause. "I refused to take it, my last two changes." The boy addressed the floor.
Black joined them on the table, his expression suddenly grim.
"I see," Snape said quietly.
"That was why my parents… well, you understand…"
"Decided to leave you here all alone?" Black supplied, unnecessarily.
Justin nodded.
"Have you killed anyone in that form?"
Black cleared his throat, obviously disapproving of Snape's blunt tone. The boy flinched.
"I don't think so, sir. Not a person. But there was talk of an attack on a flock of sheep and I think it was me."
"You think." Snape said flatly.
"Can you really help me, Professor?"
"Don't you think Headmaster Dumbledore had a reason for making wolfsbane available to you?"
"My parents are paying for it…"
"The Headmaster's duty was to have you registered. He took a personal risk for you. Is that any way to repay him?" Snape realised he was shouting. It was not a reaction he allowed himself with his students anymore. He took a deep breath, fighting to reign in his anger.
Justin had averted his gaze.
"Severus, this isn't helping much…" Black tried to intercede.
"I hope you're not about to open the floodgates, are you Mr Fitch-Fletchley?"
Justin shook his head, biting his lower lip.
"Good, because I need information if I am to do anything for you and I would like to obtain it with a minimum of histrionics. Do we understand each other?"
"Yes, sir."
Snape gathered his notes. "If you're finished with breakfast, join me in the living room."
"What about the mess in here?" the boy asked timidly.
"Fortunately for us, Professor Black is in possession of an unregistered wand." His tone softened. "You've been living like a Muggle, haven't you? For how long?"
Justin shrugged. "All this time… it's not really that bad. I imagine it would have been much worse for a pureblood." He smiled then. It was a toothy, shy smile, very much like his father's even though he had inherited his mother's thin lips.
It was a smile as effective as his father's, Snape was not too pleased to discover. Getting emotionally involved in this hopeless case was the last thing he needed. A Muggle. The poor little sod had lived like a Muggle for almost a year. Like his Muggle parents who feared him. Away from the wizarding world which would register him as a werewolf, keep him under surveillance, treat him as subhuman. Remus would laugh about the indignities he'd been forced to suffer even after the war. It had been a bitter laugh, masking cold anger at the world that he had helped save. The world they had both fought for.
Snape questioned the boy relentlessly. Justin would shoot him bewildered glances from time to time but mostly kept his eyes at the floor and answered everything dutifully. Despite the spiked hair, the multiple piercings and the traces of makeup that still lingered on, the boy had been sorted into Hufflepuff for a reason.
~*~
They look odd together… almost alike, thin and dark, dressed as though trying to outblack each other. The awkward youth could be a young version of Snape if my memory had not stubbornly retained a graceful boy, tall and lean, with long eyelashes and a complexion clear enough to bring several of the girls in our year to tears. I had seen but not accepted that the ugly duckling I had so enjoyed taunting had suddenly transformed to a black swan. Not even after he took Remus away from me had I let my eyes open to the truth.
I slip out quietly at some point. I expected Justin to need more moral support from me but he is holding his own quite well.
I interrupt them around an hour later to let them know that I have made lunch. I get a dirty look from Snape for my trouble. Justin looks up to him imploringly and is dismissed.
Severus is gathering his notes with slow movements.
"Well, are you coming?"
He shakes his head. "I'll retire for a little while." I debate between pushing him to eat and letting him take a nap – a nap, a NAP!,- my mind yells incredulously. The nap wins. He looks like death warmed over. His eyes are hooded and his mouth downcast, making him look older than his years. I know he did get some sleep yesterday even though he didn't take his sleeping potion which Pomfrey had instructed me to discreetly bring up. Which I did and was explicitly told to bugger off. However, a little more will definitely not hurt. It is good that he can sleep without chemical assistance.
I have lunch with the boy. Snape's interrogation has left him worn out as well. I try to cheer him up with little success.
"Tell me about professor Lupin," he asks and even though it is not an unreasonable demand, I practically jump off my seat.
Tell him? What can I tell him?
"What did the two of you talk about when he came to visit you?" I say when I manage to get my suddenly dry throat to work.
He shrugs. "He said that everyone would be behind me. That I must not lose hope and that my secret would be safe in Hogwarts. He described his school years and how supporting everyone had been."
He makes the last part a question or perhaps it is my uneasy conscience that reads irony in his words. Dumbledore did his best for the young beast dropped on his lap, all those years ago. As for us, his friends, it took us less than a year to know Remus' secret and less than a day or so to accept him.
I begin my carefully edited narrative. It occurs to me that much of what I'm saying is not news to the boy but he does not interrupt me. It is a story I've told Harry hundreds of times but Justin makes a much more difficult audience. Habit makes me paint James as the embodiment of wisdom and nobility with a touch of good old Gryffindor craziness. Is that really how he was? Were I to meet my dear old friend again, perhaps I wouldn't recognise him. It's all right. He probably wouldn't recognise me either.
It's getting dark outside and I'm gloomy enough without the sunset adding to it. I get up to search for the light switch. The boy comes to my rescue after a while. I mumble my thanks and sit down again.
I continue. So, Remus finished his years at Hogwarts with his friends always by his side, even during his transformations. Happy and carefree, working hard and getting top marks. Nice fairytale in which certain embarrassing facts have no place. His soft touch on my sore muscles becoming bolder one afternoon. A tentative kiss that I accepted. His steady caress bringing me to a quick orgasm, surprising in its intensity, the first not brought on by my own hand.
Had it been love for me and gratitude for him? Just raging hormones for both of us? I'll never know, nor do I want to. Sometimes I doubt that it was ever love for me. What did I know about love then?
I have stopped talking. Justin is staring at me in respectful silence. I don't like his expression. Perhaps Remus' account had been much different than mine.
At last he smiles. Not to me, it is to Snape who has just joined us again. He looks much less like a walking corpse so I suppose that nap – a nap!- really took place.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go get ready." Justin says to both of us.
"For what?" Snape asks quietly.
"To go out. Catch up with some mates."
"Did you not do enough 'catching up' yesterday?"
"What am I going to do stuck in here? Perhaps you too would like to tell me how much you like werewolves? I'm done listening to ancient history!"
Snape gives me a calculating gaze then turns his attention back to the boy. "Watch your tone, Justin. I suggest you save the teenage rebellion for your parents. In their absence, you fate rests with me and Professor Black." He pauses to let the last part sink. Justin does not interrupt the silence.
I'm impressed by Severus' cool authority and deeply grateful he mentioned me since I can't say it had really occurred to me to discipline the boy. Discipline is not a matter into which I've had to give much thought. My students practically discipline each other at Quidditch, often much more harshly than I would have and as for disciplining Harry… most of the time it feels as though my godson is the adult and not the other way around.
Justin is not pleased but agrees to be back before 12 and sulks off to get ready.
With that swiftly resolved I battle an intense feeling of uselessness by hassling Severus to eat. To my surprise, he agrees.
I'm not hungry but simply sitting at the table with him makes me so ridiculously happy that I don't pass by the opportunity. We eat in silence. Or rather, he eats and I mostly stare at him.
"What was that he said about me telling him how much I love werewolves?"
You don't? I'm tempted to ask but affirmation of his love for Remus is not what I need right now.
"I talked to him about what it was like for Remus at school," I say simply.
He snorts. "Luckily for our young werewolf, his friends need not become unregistered animagi so they will have the pleasure of his company even in those days of the month. Provided he finally understands that wolfsbane is not what killed Remus."
"Is that why he has refused to take it?"
He looks me up and down with disdain, as though wondering why he's wasting his time talking to me. Well, I don't see anyone else! It's me or the walls, you greasy git!
"That's partly the reason, I believe."
"You handled him well."
He ignores my compliment. Perhaps it came as such a shock to him that his mind refused to register it.
He looks around the room briefly, then sits on a small, rather badly lit desk. I hadn't even noticed it in the crowded parlour, I must admit. He buries his nose in his papers, signalling that I am to leave him alone.
I clean up in the kitchen. Then fix something to eat. Then clean up again. I go upstairs. I have a shower. I think of contacting Harry and try to find the least compromising way of doing so. There are more than one ways but I don't really have anything to tell him. We will not be spending Christmas together. Nothing new there. I'm off somewhere I can't tell him, doing something he is not supposed to know. Fuck it. I'll talk to him tomorrow.
Snape doesn't acknowledge me when I join him again. Little by little I approach him. Still nothing. I move even closer wondering for how long he plans on ignoring me.
"If you must act like a dog, I suggest you do so in your four-legged form!"
Kneeling in front of him, my head on his lap, he couldn't keep pretending I don't exist. There's exasperation in his tone yet his fingers are gentle when they finally bury themselves in my hair, stroking instead of pushing me off him. The scratch of his quill is the only sound in the room for a while.
He continues stroking my head absent-mindedly. My back and my knees start to complain, one more vocally than the other and soon my neck joins in. Still, I don't move.
"You know, there are more ways I do on my knees in front of you. Things I know you like…" I murmur and kiss his thigh through the soft wool of his trousers.
He pushes my head back. "I'll have to pass. The boy could be back any minute now."
I get up slowly, suppressing a heavy sigh. It wouldn't last. How could it?
"Go get some sleep," he says curtly.
"And you?"
"I will wait for Justin."
I chuckle and drop unceremoniously on an ugly yet surprisingly comfortable sofa. "I will wait with you then and when he comes back I will give him my best impersonation of my mother in such situations." I keep my tone light but the thought of what I put both my parents through during my teenage years is not particularly funny anymore.
"You will most likely end up snoring on that sofa but suit yourself."
A while later I wake up with a start hoping there was no snoring. A glance at the clock tells me only five minutes have passed. It is a quarter past twelve and there's no sign of Justin.
"Makes you glad you're gay and children were never an option, doesn't it?" I say lightly.
He snorts. "There have been far too many children in my life, despite that precaution. I wouldn't know."
Well, no one twisted your arm to become a teacher, I think but know that the truth is quite different. Dumbledore's protection had come with a price.
"Should we yell at him when he comes back?" I say instead.
No answer, just the steady scratch of his quill. What on Earth is he writing all these hours?
"Did your parents yell at you for being late?" I ask, cringing as I remember, just as the words have left my mouth, that his mother died when he was an infant.
He sighs. "No, my father had solved that problem by not allowing me to go out at all. Except for Death Eater meetings of course. You know, the virgin sacrifices, flaying Muggles alive… that sort of thing."
"I never believed those rumours."
"Then I wonder at the fact that you spread them; what do you think it says about you?" he says evenly.
I rub on my face tiredly. This game has gone on long enough and we no longer have Remus' gentle interventions. One word from Remus and Severus would be a pussycat. I have some words of my own for him, for one that he and his Death Eater mates did not read poetry to each other in their meetings but I know where it will lead. I intended to make small talk, as stupid as that makes me, not start another of our endless arguments.
When I next remove my hands from my face, the clock reads 1:00 and Justin is still not back. I turn to face Severus. He is resting his chin on his hand staring blankly ahead.
"Perhaps we should go look…" I start to say when the sound of the opening door cuts me off. The boy stumbles inside.
"Oh, shit," he says with a drunken giggle. Snape doesn't seem to appreciate the greeting.
"I believe we had an agreement, Mr Fitch-Fletchley."
"Oh, come on, I'm not that late, am I?" He glances at the clock over the fireplace. "Fine… I am but we're not at school… relax."
There's a glassy look in his eyes, making me suspect that drink is not the only thing responsible for his good cheer.
"What are you going to do, anyway?" Justin says to both of us. "Take points?"
"We might decide that you're not worth our trouble." Severus' voice has taken that silky quality that I, and I assume all the students he's taught over the years, have associated with an imminent explosion.
The boy seems to be too intoxicated and apparently stoned, to notice. "Your trouble!" he spits. "This is a joke. I know my condition. There is no cure!"
I walk up to him and place my hand on his shoulder.
"Justin, Professor Snape could help you if you let him."
"Like he helped Professor Lupin?"
And that is… I feel anger rise in my chest… overflowing. Severus moves quicker than me and in an instant grabs the scrawny boy and pushes him against the wall.
"You little shit!" he hisses.
I realise that, surprisingly, I must try to be the voice of reason and pull Severus away from the trembling teenager. Severus' hair is obscuring his face, his eyes burning through the dark curtain, locked with Justin's. As I reach to touch his tense shoulder he lets go of the thin form with a sigh of disgust. Part of me wants to take my turn slamming the boy against the wall but I manage to stop myself. Severus has turned his back to both of us, taking deep, calming breaths.
I hear a sniffle. A stifled sob. Another one. For a moment I think it is Snape but it is our defiant young werewolf who has sunk to the floor, hugging his knees. Stupid little shit. Stupid, ungrateful little shit who is now crying in earnest, his bony shoulders heaving. Snape watches with hooded eyes as I kneel and try to do the humane thing. The slight body curls even tighter into itself when I try to put my arms around it. He is trying to talk through his sobs… I can't make out most of what he's saying. Only that he's afraid. He says that over and over again as he trembles in my arms. I look up and Snape turns his back to us again quickly. If the idea was for me to miss the wet trails down his hollow cheeks, he failed.
A/N: Reviews make me a better writer and person.
Severus Snape's Secret Diary, my NC-17 Snapeslash (mostly Sev/Lucius) story can be found at another site to which I tried to link but f.f.net won't let me.
As soon as I update it, it will also be at adultfanfiction.net where most of my NC-17 rated stuff can be found. (under Mimine)
I'd kill for a site just about now…
