A/N: MOOOOOOOWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! I'm back from the dead (Dallas, Texas) and have come to write MORE!!!!!! This story has been harder to put together than I thought, because I originally started this story on paper on Spring Break 2004 as a response to A Bittersweet Memoir and Secret Longings Of Lupin (By the way, you may want to check these out before moving on so you'll know the story, even if I am a bit ashamed at the writing in Secret Longings of Lupin) and then procrastinated on writing it, but after a few months I spent a night of reading slash in this site and got the idea to write more during the second week of summer and turned out nine pages of wonderful gushy stuff for this fic. Then I got the idea to copy it down on computer and post it to Fan-Fiction .net. Well, I thought, since it was already written and such that it would, hence, be easy to copy and post. Well, I thought wrong. I ended up rewriting it while copying it and that made the process of posting much slower, and this unexpected stay in Texas hasn't helped me, either. So I will inform you that it may take quite some time for me to get my chapters up, what with all of the difficulty of rewriting and rendezvous to Dallas, but I will try my best to get it up as fast as I can. Also, I may be starting a couple of new fics, also, so don't get angry with me if a new bit of slash pops up now and then, just know that it's an idea that popped into my head that I couldn't ignore, so bear with me.
Disclaimer: Don't really own the characters in this fic, just borrowing. They are property of J.K. Rowling and shall stay that way, I promise.
WARNING: THIS IS SLASH. IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE IDEA OF REMUS OR SIRIUS OR SNAPE OR ALL THREE GETTIN' DOWN AND DIRTY WITH EACHOTHER THAN YOU CAN GO SOMEWHERE ELSE AND READ SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE SIRIUS/ REMUS/ SNAPE/ ANY MALE DOING THE NASTY. I'M NOT FORCING YOU TO READ THIS.
With love, to all the people who encouraged me to write more. If it weren't for you, this wouldn't be happening.
Chapter #4: How Could I Resist? (P.S.: This is the title of a song by a band called Heart. I do not own it.)
Once again, I glanced back down at his hands, perfect, and ivory, and gleaming against the dull grayness of the flagstones.
He retrieved his own rag from the rim of the bucket and resumed his task again, delicately and exactly as before. I started polishing as well, but halfheartedly.
Not much time passed before I was stopped again, and I felt those long, tapering fingers constrict themselves around my wrist, delicately, but firmly, and I looked up at him, back into those onyx eyes.
"Sorry," He said flatly, "For stopping you, I mean, but... well, you're not polishing correctly." I raised my eyebrows, but he brushed it off. "What I mean is, you're doing it the wrong way. The caretaker gets upset if you do it the wrong way, makes you polish it all over again because it leaves streaks. Here," He said, covering my hand with his and he guided it along with my rag in a careful circling motion. Shivers ran up and down my arm, and there was a strange prickling at the back of my neck. His other hand was pressed gently about my shoulder.
"Look," he said, suddenly, and he pulled my hand away so I could observe the shiny surface. I was too distracted to notice the difference. My head swam. I felt his thumb lightly graze the flesh of my knuckles and I sucked in my breath quietly.
"You have soft hands."
That was not what I was going to say at all.
Not at all.
He looked at me.
And then he looked away.
His hair was in his face and I didn't know why until a thick, dark strand slipped out of his face and revealed a rosy blush on his cheek. The press of his fingers on my shoulder slowly, steadily grew weaker.
I looked away, eyes dropped to the ground, and silently cursed myself. "I'm.... um... sorry...' I said sadly, not sure of what to do at this point.
With a stab of guilt I felt the warmth and weight of his hand lifted from mine. I heard his voice, softly but surely heard it. "No, no, I'm fine... just fine."
The rest of the detention continued in bruising silence until the caretaker burst into the room, holding the large ring of keys in his rough hands.
"You're free to go until tomorrow evening," He said smugly, I wanted to hex him. But I decided against it.
Snape and I bounded out of the room, both walking as far way as we could, no words exchanged.
I found myself at the portrait of the lady in the pink dress in no time (I refrain from calling her the Fat Lady, still. I find it quite rude and insulting. She was very nice to me.) and mumbled the password. The portrait swung open abruptly, and I climbed into the Common Room, bound for the stairway.
Halfway up the stairway, I heard a voice call softly, "Remus..."
I turned to find Sirius sitting at the table, elbows propped up on the shiny wood surface. This made me happy. I wondered why I even bothered with Severus at all.
"Oh... hello, Sirius" I said, slowly turning around and stepping off the staircase. I walked to the table, shifted the weight of my bag off my shoulder and onto the floor, and sat in a chair across from Sirius. His chin was now resting on his folded hands, lovely hazel eyes staring up at me, amazingly large, doglike as they always were.
"Well...?" He said expectantly.
"Well, what?" I asked, leaning forward, eyebrows raised.
"The detention... how did it go? What did you have to do?"
I shrugged lightly. "Polished trophies. Nothing difficult, really."
"Oh, well, what about Pete—."
Peter stumbled through the portrait hole, out of breath and off balance.
Sirius raised his head happily and laced his fingers together, his manner all together pleasant, which made me suspicious and uncomfortable. I squirmed lightly in my chair.
"Well, good evening, Peter..." he said sweetly, a grin spreading across his face. That grin was so familiar I wanted to spit on Sirius at that moment. But I held back from it. Self-control has always been my greatest strength. The results couldn't be that bad.
I held my breath as Peter collapsed onto the sofa, panting softly, wiping the sweat away from his brow. His cheeks were coloured with a bright shade of red, in deep contrast to the soft mop of blond hair and cream-colored complexion Wormtail normally maintained.
Sirius' disgusting grin widened. "What atrocities did Petey partake in this evening, hmm?"
"Scru-scrubbed... bedpans..." Peter breathed, almost inaudibly. I felt a sharp, cold stab of pity and anger.
Sirius gave a loud chuckle and his hazel eyes darted to the space
between the wall and the sofa behind Peter. My eyes narrowed. I could
feel my face burning slightly. "James, did you hear that?' Sirius said
suddenly.
James popped up quite suddenly in the space to which Sirius was indicating, which caused Peter to jump, with a high-pitched cry and topple to the floor with a thud.
"So that's what Lewd Lysistrata had you do, eh?" James asked, now leaning on the arm of the couch with his ankles crossed casually as Wormtail recovered himself from the carpet and flopped back on the couch, his hand at his flushed forehead.
And he was laughing.
He was laughing with them.
On normal circumstances that wouldn't have bothered me, because Peter, bless his heart, was very good-natured and well tempered about everything. Come Hell or high water, Peter would find a silver lining. Even when we laughed at him. Even when he was the butt of everyone's jokes. Even when we ridiculed him for our own selfish enjoyment. He just stood there and laughed with us, acted like he thought nothing of it, like it was a normal occurrence, and it became so. Steadily I caught on at how pathetic he truly was and for that I pitied him in the worst ways. But at the same time I'd always admired Peter. He was loyal, and he had more self-control than I could ever pretend to possess. Yet I never understood how one person could handle so much abuse. I didn't understand why Peter admired us so, even if we treated him badly.
I slowly stood up from my chair, shifted my book bag over my shoulder, and headed for the staircase without a sound.
James looked up. "Where are you going, Moony?" His dark brows knitted in confusion.
I continued walking. "Sod off."
I could feel James' bespectacled eyes burning holes through the back of my skull as I continued walking. Then, suddenly, came James' voice, indignant, insulted, hateful. "Well no wonder polishing bits of metal can be sooo exhausting, when you spend the bulk of the hour snogging Snivellus!"
I froze. Yet I didn't turn. My head rotated not an inch. Slowly I continued to walk up the staircase. Each footstep felt like a heavy weight trying to keep me down. I battled it every step. Soon I felt the soft, cool fabric of the duvet on my four-poster beneath me and I closed my eyes without warning or hesitation.
I slept not a wink before I realized that someone was in the room with me. I didn't remember hearing anyone follow me. But I knew for sure that someone was there. They'd thrown back the curtains and they sat on the edge of my bed.
I lifted my cheek from the comfort of my pillow and looked up.
Sirius.
He was sitting there, dark hair falling elegantly into his eyes, hands folded delicately in his lap. I rolled over onto my back, staring up at the canopy of my bed to avoid his eyes. "What do you need, ... Sirius?" I said flatly.
I heard a sigh. "I'm... I'm sorry about James."
No use in bringing up Peter.
I closed my eyes, felt them burn against my lids. "Sirius, it's not your fault that James is being a git and you know it."
"Well, it might as well be if I let him talk to you like that—."
"I know what you're about to say, so come off it, Sirius, I'm fine, really, I am."
He sighed again. "I... I was just concerned."
He left just as soundlessly as he came.
Please allow me to interrupt my narrative for a moment. Lingering on my past makes me lonely. Lonelier than I've ever really been before. I've been alone for a matter of months, now. But maybe I want to be alone. But I'm scared, so utterly scared af being alone!
Afraid of what I want, afraid of what I need, afraid of what will come in the future. But perhaps I may not need it. Perhaps I think I need it. I need affection. I need passion, I need a warm hand on my own, a soft pair of lips caressing my cheek. I know now and only now that I can't live without love. Once you've tasted it, you can't get enough. I'm afraid, I don't know how to live without love.
WOOOOOO! That felt good! Hopefully things will improve for Remmy in the next chapter. You'll just have to see...
It's been business doing pleasure with you, -The Absynth Fairy
Disclaimer: Don't really own the characters in this fic, just borrowing. They are property of J.K. Rowling and shall stay that way, I promise.
WARNING: THIS IS SLASH. IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE IDEA OF REMUS OR SIRIUS OR SNAPE OR ALL THREE GETTIN' DOWN AND DIRTY WITH EACHOTHER THAN YOU CAN GO SOMEWHERE ELSE AND READ SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE SIRIUS/ REMUS/ SNAPE/ ANY MALE DOING THE NASTY. I'M NOT FORCING YOU TO READ THIS.
With love, to all the people who encouraged me to write more. If it weren't for you, this wouldn't be happening.
Chapter #4: How Could I Resist? (P.S.: This is the title of a song by a band called Heart. I do not own it.)
Once again, I glanced back down at his hands, perfect, and ivory, and gleaming against the dull grayness of the flagstones.
He retrieved his own rag from the rim of the bucket and resumed his task again, delicately and exactly as before. I started polishing as well, but halfheartedly.
Not much time passed before I was stopped again, and I felt those long, tapering fingers constrict themselves around my wrist, delicately, but firmly, and I looked up at him, back into those onyx eyes.
"Sorry," He said flatly, "For stopping you, I mean, but... well, you're not polishing correctly." I raised my eyebrows, but he brushed it off. "What I mean is, you're doing it the wrong way. The caretaker gets upset if you do it the wrong way, makes you polish it all over again because it leaves streaks. Here," He said, covering my hand with his and he guided it along with my rag in a careful circling motion. Shivers ran up and down my arm, and there was a strange prickling at the back of my neck. His other hand was pressed gently about my shoulder.
"Look," he said, suddenly, and he pulled my hand away so I could observe the shiny surface. I was too distracted to notice the difference. My head swam. I felt his thumb lightly graze the flesh of my knuckles and I sucked in my breath quietly.
"You have soft hands."
That was not what I was going to say at all.
Not at all.
He looked at me.
And then he looked away.
His hair was in his face and I didn't know why until a thick, dark strand slipped out of his face and revealed a rosy blush on his cheek. The press of his fingers on my shoulder slowly, steadily grew weaker.
I looked away, eyes dropped to the ground, and silently cursed myself. "I'm.... um... sorry...' I said sadly, not sure of what to do at this point.
With a stab of guilt I felt the warmth and weight of his hand lifted from mine. I heard his voice, softly but surely heard it. "No, no, I'm fine... just fine."
The rest of the detention continued in bruising silence until the caretaker burst into the room, holding the large ring of keys in his rough hands.
"You're free to go until tomorrow evening," He said smugly, I wanted to hex him. But I decided against it.
Snape and I bounded out of the room, both walking as far way as we could, no words exchanged.
I found myself at the portrait of the lady in the pink dress in no time (I refrain from calling her the Fat Lady, still. I find it quite rude and insulting. She was very nice to me.) and mumbled the password. The portrait swung open abruptly, and I climbed into the Common Room, bound for the stairway.
Halfway up the stairway, I heard a voice call softly, "Remus..."
I turned to find Sirius sitting at the table, elbows propped up on the shiny wood surface. This made me happy. I wondered why I even bothered with Severus at all.
"Oh... hello, Sirius" I said, slowly turning around and stepping off the staircase. I walked to the table, shifted the weight of my bag off my shoulder and onto the floor, and sat in a chair across from Sirius. His chin was now resting on his folded hands, lovely hazel eyes staring up at me, amazingly large, doglike as they always were.
"Well...?" He said expectantly.
"Well, what?" I asked, leaning forward, eyebrows raised.
"The detention... how did it go? What did you have to do?"
I shrugged lightly. "Polished trophies. Nothing difficult, really."
"Oh, well, what about Pete—."
Peter stumbled through the portrait hole, out of breath and off balance.
Sirius raised his head happily and laced his fingers together, his manner all together pleasant, which made me suspicious and uncomfortable. I squirmed lightly in my chair.
"Well, good evening, Peter..." he said sweetly, a grin spreading across his face. That grin was so familiar I wanted to spit on Sirius at that moment. But I held back from it. Self-control has always been my greatest strength. The results couldn't be that bad.
I held my breath as Peter collapsed onto the sofa, panting softly, wiping the sweat away from his brow. His cheeks were coloured with a bright shade of red, in deep contrast to the soft mop of blond hair and cream-colored complexion Wormtail normally maintained.
Sirius' disgusting grin widened. "What atrocities did Petey partake in this evening, hmm?"
"Scru-scrubbed... bedpans..." Peter breathed, almost inaudibly. I felt a sharp, cold stab of pity and anger.
Sirius gave a loud chuckle and his hazel eyes darted to the space
between the wall and the sofa behind Peter. My eyes narrowed. I could
feel my face burning slightly. "James, did you hear that?' Sirius said
suddenly.
James popped up quite suddenly in the space to which Sirius was indicating, which caused Peter to jump, with a high-pitched cry and topple to the floor with a thud.
"So that's what Lewd Lysistrata had you do, eh?" James asked, now leaning on the arm of the couch with his ankles crossed casually as Wormtail recovered himself from the carpet and flopped back on the couch, his hand at his flushed forehead.
And he was laughing.
He was laughing with them.
On normal circumstances that wouldn't have bothered me, because Peter, bless his heart, was very good-natured and well tempered about everything. Come Hell or high water, Peter would find a silver lining. Even when we laughed at him. Even when he was the butt of everyone's jokes. Even when we ridiculed him for our own selfish enjoyment. He just stood there and laughed with us, acted like he thought nothing of it, like it was a normal occurrence, and it became so. Steadily I caught on at how pathetic he truly was and for that I pitied him in the worst ways. But at the same time I'd always admired Peter. He was loyal, and he had more self-control than I could ever pretend to possess. Yet I never understood how one person could handle so much abuse. I didn't understand why Peter admired us so, even if we treated him badly.
I slowly stood up from my chair, shifted my book bag over my shoulder, and headed for the staircase without a sound.
James looked up. "Where are you going, Moony?" His dark brows knitted in confusion.
I continued walking. "Sod off."
I could feel James' bespectacled eyes burning holes through the back of my skull as I continued walking. Then, suddenly, came James' voice, indignant, insulted, hateful. "Well no wonder polishing bits of metal can be sooo exhausting, when you spend the bulk of the hour snogging Snivellus!"
I froze. Yet I didn't turn. My head rotated not an inch. Slowly I continued to walk up the staircase. Each footstep felt like a heavy weight trying to keep me down. I battled it every step. Soon I felt the soft, cool fabric of the duvet on my four-poster beneath me and I closed my eyes without warning or hesitation.
I slept not a wink before I realized that someone was in the room with me. I didn't remember hearing anyone follow me. But I knew for sure that someone was there. They'd thrown back the curtains and they sat on the edge of my bed.
I lifted my cheek from the comfort of my pillow and looked up.
Sirius.
He was sitting there, dark hair falling elegantly into his eyes, hands folded delicately in his lap. I rolled over onto my back, staring up at the canopy of my bed to avoid his eyes. "What do you need, ... Sirius?" I said flatly.
I heard a sigh. "I'm... I'm sorry about James."
No use in bringing up Peter.
I closed my eyes, felt them burn against my lids. "Sirius, it's not your fault that James is being a git and you know it."
"Well, it might as well be if I let him talk to you like that—."
"I know what you're about to say, so come off it, Sirius, I'm fine, really, I am."
He sighed again. "I... I was just concerned."
He left just as soundlessly as he came.
Please allow me to interrupt my narrative for a moment. Lingering on my past makes me lonely. Lonelier than I've ever really been before. I've been alone for a matter of months, now. But maybe I want to be alone. But I'm scared, so utterly scared af being alone!
Afraid of what I want, afraid of what I need, afraid of what will come in the future. But perhaps I may not need it. Perhaps I think I need it. I need affection. I need passion, I need a warm hand on my own, a soft pair of lips caressing my cheek. I know now and only now that I can't live without love. Once you've tasted it, you can't get enough. I'm afraid, I don't know how to live without love.
WOOOOOO! That felt good! Hopefully things will improve for Remmy in the next chapter. You'll just have to see...
It's been business doing pleasure with you, -The Absynth Fairy