Redemption - Part 26 - Reverting
Oct. 20th, 2006 12:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
innerslytherinReverting
Prompt: 72 – Curse
WC: 2000
Pairing: Remus/Severus
Slash
Redemption - PG to R (WIP) - After Voldemort's defeat, Remus--crippled in his last battle--and Severus--pardoned but a pariah--manage to forge a connection, despite the expectations of the world around them.
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
The day after Alice Longbottom's funeral, Severus decides his morning routine can go hang. The light seeping in around the draperies is grey and diffuse, and Remus is nestled in his arms, both of them quite naked. Once they'd pulled themselves together enough to go upstairs, they had spent several hours reaffirming that they were alive and in love. Severus had never, in fact, had sex like that before; but it had allowed Remus to claim him without taxing his strength, and Severus feels pleasantly sore this morning.
Remus shifts in his arms and makes a soft waking-up noise.
"Good morning." Severus bends his head to kiss Remus, who responds sleepily. To his astonishment, Severus slept without nightmares last night, and if Remus had any, Severus slept through them—which is highly unlikely.
Remus nuzzles Severus' chest and Severus automatically lifts a hand to stroke his soft hair. This always elicits a happy noise from his lover, and this morning is no exception.
"Sleep all right?" Severus murmurs.
"Oh yes," Remus says, and yawns. "Slept like a log. You?"
"Mm, yes." Severus kisses him again. "You exhausted me last night."
Remus' smile is wicked. "Good."
Severus finally lets go of Remus and stretches, feeling his body protest gently. "Yes, we'll have to do that more often." He gives Remus one of the smiles that, these days, are not so rare. "What are your plans for today?"
"I thought I'd have a lie-in, get up when you fix lunch, perhaps answer a few letters. You?"
"Research," Severus says, "and it's your turn to cook lunch. I'm tea today."
Remus tilts his head to one side—it's his tell, and Severus knows Remus is winding him up. "No, I'm certain you're responsible for lunch today."
Severus shrugs. "Suit yourself. Lunch will be beans and toast with marmite."
Remus gives an exaggerated shudder. "Fine, I'll do lunch. And tea, just to be safe."
Severus gives him a wounded look, though it is precisely the response he expected. There are times Remus still forgets his lover is a Slytherin. He rolls onto his side, puts his arms around Remus, and falls asleep again.
He has just stepped out of the shower when he hears Remus' cry of alarm. It's not unusual for Remus to ask for help; what is unusual about this is the urgency in his voice.
"Severus!"
There is, in fact, a note of almost-panic that makes Severus' heart jolt in his chest. He drops his towel and rushes, naked and dripping, into the bedroom.
Remus is on the bed nearly where Severus left him. He is propped up on his arms, twisted slightly and staring wild-eyed towards the bathroom. He lets out a sob of relief when Severus appears.
"What is it? Remus?" Severus is on the bed, water running down his body and making him shiver as it soaks into the duvet. Wolfsbane scampers off the bed and crouches under the wardrobe, hissing.
Remus' mouth works for a moment without producing words. Then he shudders and gasps in a breath and says, "I can't make my legs move."
There have been moments in Severus' life when the world seemed to stop around him. The moment Albus Dumbledore tumbled backwards from the tower. The moment Lord Voldemort's body was eclipsed by radiant, searing, unforgiving light. The moment the magical shackles fell from his wrists.
These words.
He is shaking his head, leaning back from Remus. He frowns. "No," he says, and tries to provide an excuse, but can't, and so, "No," again.
"I can't." Remus' voice is louder, higher.
Severus hits him.
He doesn't mean to; he doesn't realize in the moment before his palm strikes Remus' flesh that he is going to. But he slaps him hard across the cheek, punishing him for dashing Severus' hopes. Remus stares at him, and then, astonishingly, begins to cry.
"No, no, no," Severus is saying over and over, and dear God why can't he think of anything else besides that, like what he should be doing or why he just hit his lover or how he can stop the tears that are sliding silently down Remus' cheeks? "No, no," Severus repeats, as if it is a mantra that will heal Remus, as if he has the power to change reality by denying it. "No."
Remus' fingers press cool against Severus' lips. "Yes," Remus says, and the tears drip from his chin and join the bathwater in soaking their bed.
"Oh, God!" Severus groans, and Remus falls forward into Severus' arms and for several minutes Severus clings to him while Remus shivers and shakes.
Severus finally pulls away when they have both stopped shaking a little. He still feels as if his world has tilted on its axis, but he knows he can't sit here and fall apart. Remus needs him. The kitten crawls on top of Remus and curls protectively on his chest.
Severus barks a short laugh at the baleful glare that is suddenly levelled at him. "Bloody cat," he growls, and smoothes a hand over Remus' hair before getting off the bed.
"Right," he says, shrugging into his dressing gown. "You'll obviously need to see Smethwyck. Would you like your blue pyjamas or the green?"
Remus stares at him for a moment. "I don't want to go back."
"I won't let him keep you longer than a night," Severus promises. "But he'll need to see you. Blue or green?"
"Green." Remus sighs. "I didn't wash my hair yesterday."
"It still feels clean," Severus assures him. "Do you want to finish Jane Eyre?"
Remus frowns. "I'd rather finish it with you."
Severus lifts an eyebrow. "Where, exactly, do you think I'll be?"
At this, Remus' expression clears. "All right."
Severus nods once, sharply, and he shoves the pyjamas and book into a knapsack. He leaves this on the bed and dresses quickly: pants, jeans, vest, jumper, with a dark green robe over top. Remus has, he reflects with some surprise, infiltrated every corner of his life. And he is pleased by this fact.
His hair still isn't long enough to really need a comb, though he's been thinking recently that he should cut it again--it doesn't get as greasy when it's short, he's discovered, and he likes the way Remus' fingers feel, running through his hair--so he combs it with his fingers and then shoos Wolfsbane gently off Remus' chest. He assists Remus in dragging on clean pants and pyjama trousers and a t-shirt, then puts the knapsack on his shoulder and gathers Remus gently in his arms. He Apparates them directly into Smethwyck's office.
Smethwyck is, predictably, puzzled by Remus' condition. Severus glowers at the man as he runs his wand along Remus' legs, then explores his spine and neck, muttering and hmming and frowning. It is clear that whatever is causing Remus' paralysis, it is not physical. This leaves only Dark magic, and Severus is not going to perform that sort of examination in front of anyone else. He has been found innocent of murder, has regained his freedom, but the first hint of Dark magic from Severus Snape and he has no doubt the Ministry will dredge up some reason to haul him in and revoke his rights.
He waits until the Healers and Medi-witches have cleared out of Remus' room, then he drags a chair close to Remus' bed and takes Remus' hand in both of his own. "Do you hurt?" he asks softly, leaning his head near Remus'.
Remus exhales impatiently. "No more than usual," he says. "Stop acting like I'm going to fall apart. I'm not fragile."
No, Severus thinks, but perhaps, where you are concerned, I am. It's a disturbing thought. He shoves it away and hopes he will never have to think about it again. "Did anyone bring back Mulciber's wand?" he says instead.
"The wand?" Remus frowns, as if he'd been expecting an argument instead of a question. "I…he had it when I killed him."
Severus inhales sharply. There is much he doesn't know about the final encounter between Remus, Greyback, and Mulciber. For all that everyone knows Remus killed them, surprisingly few details were leaked. And Severus, being a private man himself, has never pressed Remus to tell the whole story. For the first time he realizes this may have been an oversight.
"You fought Greyback as a man," Severus says slowly. He glances at Remus, whose head is bowed.
"Yes." The word is whispered. The blanket wrinkles in Remus' tight grip.
"You killed him like a wolf would."
There is no response this time. Severus tightens his hold on Remus' free hand. He does not blame Remus—how could he blame Remus, after the things he himself has done? "Greyback wounded you. How?"
Remus draws a shuddery breath. "You know Greyback was mostly feral even as a man," he murmurs. "He bit my leg, to cripple me so I couldn't chase him. He tore open the knee and ripped the ligaments."
"It was a serious wound." Severus is not asking.
"Joints heal poorly, even in lycanthropes," Remus agrees. "Red meat helps—raw meat. Blood." He shudders. "Even as men we crave blood. Our bodies need it for the healing."
"Makes sense," Severus muses. "So Greyback thought you wouldn't follow, with such an injury. He underestimated you."
"I followed." Remus' voice is grim. Severus recognizes the tone; Remus is caught up in the reliving of that battle. "I followed him all night. He was hurt, too; I had a trail of blood to follow."
"And he led you into a trap." Severus doesn't know this, not for sure, but it makes sense.
"Mulciber was waiting." Remus' voice is a growl. Severus feels a shiver run down his spine. "He hit me with two curses before I even saw him. I—" Remus shudders again. "I was running almost as feral as Fenrir. I leapt on Mulciber. I tore his throat out before I remembered I had a wand." The normally pleasant hoarse voice is ugly with self loathing. "He bled a lot."
There is silence in the room for a moment. Severus hears someone in the hall use a Sonorus Charm to call Healer Pye. He tightens his grip on Remus' hand.
"The blood gave me strength, but it didn't ease the pain. I didn't care. The pain was driving me on, forcing me after Fenrir. He made his stand in an old rock quarry. I used my teeth and hands. He was tired. He was easy to kill."
Remus is shaking badly. Severus wants to pull Remus into his arms but he is unsure how his lover will react. After a moment he does it anyway. Remus stiffens, then melts into the embrace. "I didn't go back to Mulciber. I stood over Fenrir to claim my kill. Until Tonks and Kingsley showed up to save me."
Severus snorts. 'Save him' indeed. But now he understands why Miss Tonks still flinches at the mention of Remus' name these days. The hypocritical cow.
Severus' acceptance of the story seems to help. At any rate Remus' shaking slows and ceases, and after a while he nuzzles against Severus' chest. His muscles are relaxing in Severus' arms.
"I want Mulciber's wand," Severus says. It is impossible, inconceivable, that no one has thought of it until now. Perhaps there is no one else on staff at St Mungo's who has Severus' experience at inventing spells; still, it is unforgivable. In order to devise a countercurse, the original curse must be known. A simple Prior Incantato could answer the single most important question in Severus' life.
He waits until the pain potions take effect and Remus is asleep in his arms. He kisses the lined forehead softly and brushes back silvery brown hair, and then he stands.
He needs Mulciber's wand, no matter what the security classification of the case evidence or the cost to himself.
It is time to call in a few favours.
Prompt: 72 – Curse
WC: 2000
Pairing: Remus/Severus
Slash
Redemption - PG to R (WIP) - After Voldemort's defeat, Remus--crippled in his last battle--and Severus--pardoned but a pariah--manage to forge a connection, despite the expectations of the world around them.
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
The day after Alice Longbottom's funeral, Severus decides his morning routine can go hang. The light seeping in around the draperies is grey and diffuse, and Remus is nestled in his arms, both of them quite naked. Once they'd pulled themselves together enough to go upstairs, they had spent several hours reaffirming that they were alive and in love. Severus had never, in fact, had sex like that before; but it had allowed Remus to claim him without taxing his strength, and Severus feels pleasantly sore this morning.
Remus shifts in his arms and makes a soft waking-up noise.
"Good morning." Severus bends his head to kiss Remus, who responds sleepily. To his astonishment, Severus slept without nightmares last night, and if Remus had any, Severus slept through them—which is highly unlikely.
Remus nuzzles Severus' chest and Severus automatically lifts a hand to stroke his soft hair. This always elicits a happy noise from his lover, and this morning is no exception.
"Sleep all right?" Severus murmurs.
"Oh yes," Remus says, and yawns. "Slept like a log. You?"
"Mm, yes." Severus kisses him again. "You exhausted me last night."
Remus' smile is wicked. "Good."
Severus finally lets go of Remus and stretches, feeling his body protest gently. "Yes, we'll have to do that more often." He gives Remus one of the smiles that, these days, are not so rare. "What are your plans for today?"
"I thought I'd have a lie-in, get up when you fix lunch, perhaps answer a few letters. You?"
"Research," Severus says, "and it's your turn to cook lunch. I'm tea today."
Remus tilts his head to one side—it's his tell, and Severus knows Remus is winding him up. "No, I'm certain you're responsible for lunch today."
Severus shrugs. "Suit yourself. Lunch will be beans and toast with marmite."
Remus gives an exaggerated shudder. "Fine, I'll do lunch. And tea, just to be safe."
Severus gives him a wounded look, though it is precisely the response he expected. There are times Remus still forgets his lover is a Slytherin. He rolls onto his side, puts his arms around Remus, and falls asleep again.
He has just stepped out of the shower when he hears Remus' cry of alarm. It's not unusual for Remus to ask for help; what is unusual about this is the urgency in his voice.
"Severus!"
There is, in fact, a note of almost-panic that makes Severus' heart jolt in his chest. He drops his towel and rushes, naked and dripping, into the bedroom.
Remus is on the bed nearly where Severus left him. He is propped up on his arms, twisted slightly and staring wild-eyed towards the bathroom. He lets out a sob of relief when Severus appears.
"What is it? Remus?" Severus is on the bed, water running down his body and making him shiver as it soaks into the duvet. Wolfsbane scampers off the bed and crouches under the wardrobe, hissing.
Remus' mouth works for a moment without producing words. Then he shudders and gasps in a breath and says, "I can't make my legs move."
There have been moments in Severus' life when the world seemed to stop around him. The moment Albus Dumbledore tumbled backwards from the tower. The moment Lord Voldemort's body was eclipsed by radiant, searing, unforgiving light. The moment the magical shackles fell from his wrists.
These words.
He is shaking his head, leaning back from Remus. He frowns. "No," he says, and tries to provide an excuse, but can't, and so, "No," again.
"I can't." Remus' voice is louder, higher.
Severus hits him.
He doesn't mean to; he doesn't realize in the moment before his palm strikes Remus' flesh that he is going to. But he slaps him hard across the cheek, punishing him for dashing Severus' hopes. Remus stares at him, and then, astonishingly, begins to cry.
"No, no, no," Severus is saying over and over, and dear God why can't he think of anything else besides that, like what he should be doing or why he just hit his lover or how he can stop the tears that are sliding silently down Remus' cheeks? "No, no," Severus repeats, as if it is a mantra that will heal Remus, as if he has the power to change reality by denying it. "No."
Remus' fingers press cool against Severus' lips. "Yes," Remus says, and the tears drip from his chin and join the bathwater in soaking their bed.
"Oh, God!" Severus groans, and Remus falls forward into Severus' arms and for several minutes Severus clings to him while Remus shivers and shakes.
Severus finally pulls away when they have both stopped shaking a little. He still feels as if his world has tilted on its axis, but he knows he can't sit here and fall apart. Remus needs him. The kitten crawls on top of Remus and curls protectively on his chest.
Severus barks a short laugh at the baleful glare that is suddenly levelled at him. "Bloody cat," he growls, and smoothes a hand over Remus' hair before getting off the bed.
"Right," he says, shrugging into his dressing gown. "You'll obviously need to see Smethwyck. Would you like your blue pyjamas or the green?"
Remus stares at him for a moment. "I don't want to go back."
"I won't let him keep you longer than a night," Severus promises. "But he'll need to see you. Blue or green?"
"Green." Remus sighs. "I didn't wash my hair yesterday."
"It still feels clean," Severus assures him. "Do you want to finish Jane Eyre?"
Remus frowns. "I'd rather finish it with you."
Severus lifts an eyebrow. "Where, exactly, do you think I'll be?"
At this, Remus' expression clears. "All right."
Severus nods once, sharply, and he shoves the pyjamas and book into a knapsack. He leaves this on the bed and dresses quickly: pants, jeans, vest, jumper, with a dark green robe over top. Remus has, he reflects with some surprise, infiltrated every corner of his life. And he is pleased by this fact.
His hair still isn't long enough to really need a comb, though he's been thinking recently that he should cut it again--it doesn't get as greasy when it's short, he's discovered, and he likes the way Remus' fingers feel, running through his hair--so he combs it with his fingers and then shoos Wolfsbane gently off Remus' chest. He assists Remus in dragging on clean pants and pyjama trousers and a t-shirt, then puts the knapsack on his shoulder and gathers Remus gently in his arms. He Apparates them directly into Smethwyck's office.
Smethwyck is, predictably, puzzled by Remus' condition. Severus glowers at the man as he runs his wand along Remus' legs, then explores his spine and neck, muttering and hmming and frowning. It is clear that whatever is causing Remus' paralysis, it is not physical. This leaves only Dark magic, and Severus is not going to perform that sort of examination in front of anyone else. He has been found innocent of murder, has regained his freedom, but the first hint of Dark magic from Severus Snape and he has no doubt the Ministry will dredge up some reason to haul him in and revoke his rights.
He waits until the Healers and Medi-witches have cleared out of Remus' room, then he drags a chair close to Remus' bed and takes Remus' hand in both of his own. "Do you hurt?" he asks softly, leaning his head near Remus'.
Remus exhales impatiently. "No more than usual," he says. "Stop acting like I'm going to fall apart. I'm not fragile."
No, Severus thinks, but perhaps, where you are concerned, I am. It's a disturbing thought. He shoves it away and hopes he will never have to think about it again. "Did anyone bring back Mulciber's wand?" he says instead.
"The wand?" Remus frowns, as if he'd been expecting an argument instead of a question. "I…he had it when I killed him."
Severus inhales sharply. There is much he doesn't know about the final encounter between Remus, Greyback, and Mulciber. For all that everyone knows Remus killed them, surprisingly few details were leaked. And Severus, being a private man himself, has never pressed Remus to tell the whole story. For the first time he realizes this may have been an oversight.
"You fought Greyback as a man," Severus says slowly. He glances at Remus, whose head is bowed.
"Yes." The word is whispered. The blanket wrinkles in Remus' tight grip.
"You killed him like a wolf would."
There is no response this time. Severus tightens his hold on Remus' free hand. He does not blame Remus—how could he blame Remus, after the things he himself has done? "Greyback wounded you. How?"
Remus draws a shuddery breath. "You know Greyback was mostly feral even as a man," he murmurs. "He bit my leg, to cripple me so I couldn't chase him. He tore open the knee and ripped the ligaments."
"It was a serious wound." Severus is not asking.
"Joints heal poorly, even in lycanthropes," Remus agrees. "Red meat helps—raw meat. Blood." He shudders. "Even as men we crave blood. Our bodies need it for the healing."
"Makes sense," Severus muses. "So Greyback thought you wouldn't follow, with such an injury. He underestimated you."
"I followed." Remus' voice is grim. Severus recognizes the tone; Remus is caught up in the reliving of that battle. "I followed him all night. He was hurt, too; I had a trail of blood to follow."
"And he led you into a trap." Severus doesn't know this, not for sure, but it makes sense.
"Mulciber was waiting." Remus' voice is a growl. Severus feels a shiver run down his spine. "He hit me with two curses before I even saw him. I—" Remus shudders again. "I was running almost as feral as Fenrir. I leapt on Mulciber. I tore his throat out before I remembered I had a wand." The normally pleasant hoarse voice is ugly with self loathing. "He bled a lot."
There is silence in the room for a moment. Severus hears someone in the hall use a Sonorus Charm to call Healer Pye. He tightens his grip on Remus' hand.
"The blood gave me strength, but it didn't ease the pain. I didn't care. The pain was driving me on, forcing me after Fenrir. He made his stand in an old rock quarry. I used my teeth and hands. He was tired. He was easy to kill."
Remus is shaking badly. Severus wants to pull Remus into his arms but he is unsure how his lover will react. After a moment he does it anyway. Remus stiffens, then melts into the embrace. "I didn't go back to Mulciber. I stood over Fenrir to claim my kill. Until Tonks and Kingsley showed up to save me."
Severus snorts. 'Save him' indeed. But now he understands why Miss Tonks still flinches at the mention of Remus' name these days. The hypocritical cow.
Severus' acceptance of the story seems to help. At any rate Remus' shaking slows and ceases, and after a while he nuzzles against Severus' chest. His muscles are relaxing in Severus' arms.
"I want Mulciber's wand," Severus says. It is impossible, inconceivable, that no one has thought of it until now. Perhaps there is no one else on staff at St Mungo's who has Severus' experience at inventing spells; still, it is unforgivable. In order to devise a countercurse, the original curse must be known. A simple Prior Incantato could answer the single most important question in Severus' life.
He waits until the pain potions take effect and Remus is asleep in his arms. He kisses the lined forehead softly and brushes back silvery brown hair, and then he stands.
He needs Mulciber's wand, no matter what the security classification of the case evidence or the cost to himself.
It is time to call in a few favours.
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Date: 2006-10-22 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-23 06:37 am (UTC)