Redemption - Part 6 - Receiving
Feb. 2nd, 2006 01:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
innerslytherinReceiving
Prompt: 42 - Nonsense
Pairing: Remus/Severus
Preslash
WC: 776
Series so far:
1. Reconciliation 2. Rehabilitation 3. Recovery 4. Reply 5. Rediscovery 6. Receiving
7. Repartee 8. Relapse 9. Requisite 10. Retreat 11. Refining 12. Repose 13. Reconsidering
14. Renaissance 15. Retribution 16. Return 17.Rematch 18. Redefining 19. Relishing
20. Recognition 21. Remembering 22. Refrain 23. Reformation 24. Recrimination 25. Reliance
26. Reverting 27. Repercussion 28. Reminder
Some days after Severus found Remus kneeling in the midst of broken potion bottles, the owl post arrives with a box. Severus frowns. He has ordered no potion components recently. There is nothing he is expecting. He studies it for a moment; it is plain, unmarked, with no return post. It is about eight inches by eight, and there are several mild charms on it.
Then the box moves.
He has his wand out in a flash, trained on the box. It moves again, with the sound of claws on cardboard. He thinks quickly; none of the Death Eaters still free should have too strong a grudge against him—the important ones were all killed or rounded up after the war. A former student? Then the box makes another, more distinctive noise. Severus goes still.
“Oh, Lupin, you can’t have been such a fool.”
But the box mews again, and Severus realizes that yes, Lupin is just that sort of fool. Dreading what he will find, he opens the box.
A tiny, fuzzy black head pokes out of the box, and bright golden eyes examine him curiously. Severus scowls at it. “The werewolf is mad.”
The kitten mews again and makes a valiant attempt at escaping the box. After watching for a few minutes, face impassive, Severus lifts it out of the box and places it on his work table. Its purr is loud and instantaneous, but it mews pathetically when he sets it down.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Severus tells it. It trots over and sinks its teeth into his hands.
“Ouch! Little beast.” He eyes it with more respect.
It sits and licks prissily at a paw.
Severus snorts. “Where did he find you?” he asks.
The cat gazes back at him, unconcerned. Severus snorts again and looks in the box, which contains a soft blanket, a box marked “Care package”, a folded piece of parchment, and a stuffed lamb. He stares at that last in pure dumbfoundment for several seconds, until ten pricks of fire pierce the skin of his left arm.
“Damnation!” he exclaims, and detaches the kitten from where it is attempting to climb his sleeve. “You are going straight back,” he says, holding it in front of his face and glaring at it. It licks his nose.
Bloody hell.
The care package turns out to have two dishes, a litter box, a bag of sand, a supply of food, treats, and a small instruction pamphlet on “Caring for your new darling”. Severus suspects it was written by Molly Weasley or one of her ilk. After reading the first paragraph he bins it.
He turns instead to the folded parchment, which proves to be a note from Remus. This he reads with more interest.
Severus,
I have suddenly found myself the owner of a cat. Or perhaps he owns me; I’m never certain how these things work. In any case, I am obviously unable to care for him myself at the moment, but something about him made me think you might like him. Besides, you said you once had a kitten, so presumably you aren’t allergic to cats. I would greatly appreciate it if you would do me the favour of giving him a place to stay until I’m released fromthis torture facility hospital. He’s still in need of a name, as well.
Thank you in advance. I hope it won’t be too much of an imposition.
Sincerely,
Remus
P.S. Watch out, he bites.
Severus gives a snort of amused annoyance and glances at the animal. It is patting at a heavy, liquid-filled flask. He suspects it will be an imposition, but finds that he can’t bring himself to tell Remus. Glancing back at the letter, he is oddly cheered by the fact that it is written in Remus’ own hand, and the printing is much more even, the signature large and shaky, but much closer to the man’s old signature, which Severus had seen—and hated—on so many school documents. He wonders how soon Remus will be able to leave St Mungo’s. He wonders where the man will go when he does.
“If you’re going to live here, there will be some ground rules,” he tells the kitten seriously. “I will not have any nonsense. There will be no playing with or eating of potions ingredients, no breaking of flasks and tubes, no climbing in cauldrons, and no sleeping in my bed. I expect you to keep the rodent population down. And you will cease biting at once.”
The kitten looks at him and yawns.
Severus has a feeling he is in for a great deal of nonsense.
Prompt: 42 - Nonsense
Pairing: Remus/Severus
Preslash
WC: 776
Series so far:
1. Reconciliation 2. Rehabilitation 3. Recovery 4. Reply 5. Rediscovery 6. Receiving
7. Repartee 8. Relapse 9. Requisite 10. Retreat 11. Refining 12. Repose 13. Reconsidering
14. Renaissance 15. Retribution 16. Return 17.Rematch 18. Redefining 19. Relishing
20. Recognition 21. Remembering 22. Refrain 23. Reformation 24. Recrimination 25. Reliance
26. Reverting 27. Repercussion 28. Reminder
Some days after Severus found Remus kneeling in the midst of broken potion bottles, the owl post arrives with a box. Severus frowns. He has ordered no potion components recently. There is nothing he is expecting. He studies it for a moment; it is plain, unmarked, with no return post. It is about eight inches by eight, and there are several mild charms on it.
Then the box moves.
He has his wand out in a flash, trained on the box. It moves again, with the sound of claws on cardboard. He thinks quickly; none of the Death Eaters still free should have too strong a grudge against him—the important ones were all killed or rounded up after the war. A former student? Then the box makes another, more distinctive noise. Severus goes still.
“Oh, Lupin, you can’t have been such a fool.”
But the box mews again, and Severus realizes that yes, Lupin is just that sort of fool. Dreading what he will find, he opens the box.
A tiny, fuzzy black head pokes out of the box, and bright golden eyes examine him curiously. Severus scowls at it. “The werewolf is mad.”
The kitten mews again and makes a valiant attempt at escaping the box. After watching for a few minutes, face impassive, Severus lifts it out of the box and places it on his work table. Its purr is loud and instantaneous, but it mews pathetically when he sets it down.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Severus tells it. It trots over and sinks its teeth into his hands.
“Ouch! Little beast.” He eyes it with more respect.
It sits and licks prissily at a paw.
Severus snorts. “Where did he find you?” he asks.
The cat gazes back at him, unconcerned. Severus snorts again and looks in the box, which contains a soft blanket, a box marked “Care package”, a folded piece of parchment, and a stuffed lamb. He stares at that last in pure dumbfoundment for several seconds, until ten pricks of fire pierce the skin of his left arm.
“Damnation!” he exclaims, and detaches the kitten from where it is attempting to climb his sleeve. “You are going straight back,” he says, holding it in front of his face and glaring at it. It licks his nose.
Bloody hell.
The care package turns out to have two dishes, a litter box, a bag of sand, a supply of food, treats, and a small instruction pamphlet on “Caring for your new darling”. Severus suspects it was written by Molly Weasley or one of her ilk. After reading the first paragraph he bins it.
He turns instead to the folded parchment, which proves to be a note from Remus. This he reads with more interest.
Severus,
I have suddenly found myself the owner of a cat. Or perhaps he owns me; I’m never certain how these things work. In any case, I am obviously unable to care for him myself at the moment, but something about him made me think you might like him. Besides, you said you once had a kitten, so presumably you aren’t allergic to cats. I would greatly appreciate it if you would do me the favour of giving him a place to stay until I’m released from
Thank you in advance. I hope it won’t be too much of an imposition.
Sincerely,
Remus
P.S. Watch out, he bites.
Severus gives a snort of amused annoyance and glances at the animal. It is patting at a heavy, liquid-filled flask. He suspects it will be an imposition, but finds that he can’t bring himself to tell Remus. Glancing back at the letter, he is oddly cheered by the fact that it is written in Remus’ own hand, and the printing is much more even, the signature large and shaky, but much closer to the man’s old signature, which Severus had seen—and hated—on so many school documents. He wonders how soon Remus will be able to leave St Mungo’s. He wonders where the man will go when he does.
“If you’re going to live here, there will be some ground rules,” he tells the kitten seriously. “I will not have any nonsense. There will be no playing with or eating of potions ingredients, no breaking of flasks and tubes, no climbing in cauldrons, and no sleeping in my bed. I expect you to keep the rodent population down. And you will cease biting at once.”
The kitten looks at him and yawns.
Severus has a feeling he is in for a great deal of nonsense.
