Redemption - Part 24 - Recriminations
Aug. 3rd, 2006 10:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
innerslytherinRecrimination
Prompt: 28 - Weather
WC: 1,869
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
Many thanks to my dear beta readers![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
astraea36, jenw118, and thesnapelyone!
Rain is pelting against the windowpane when Severus wakes in the morning. He barely suppresses a groan; of all the days for him to have arranged a meeting with someone, it had to be today. Thunder crawls in low rumbles across the sky, and Severus rolls onto his side to bury his face against Remus’ neck. Remus makes a sleepy noise and Severus falls back asleep.
The second time he wakes it is because of the weather. He is dreaming of Azkaban when a loud crash of thunder rips through his dream and drags him into shivering wakefulness. This time Remus is snuggled up against him with comforting warmth; Severus lies there, listening to his lover’s deep, even breathing and staring at the stained ceiling, until the light bubbles have been erupting from the alarm clock for a quarter of an hour.
Wolfsbane picks his way delicately across the grey blanket and rubs against Severus’ chin once before sinking needle-sharp teeth into his nose. Dratted cat. Severus reaches up and detaches him, then sighs and climbs out of bed.
He puts on his dressing gown because the house is susceptible to early morning chill and then tucks the kitten absent-mindedly in one of the voluminous pockets. As he makes his way down the stairs he hears the thump of the delivery owl against the kitchen window. He hopes the paper isn’t soaked.
He gives Wolfsbane some food and starts brewing coffee. He is pleased to discover the Prophet is charmed Impervius, so he reads it while he waits for the coffee to finish. Then, as he eats his toast and drinks his coffee (no cream, two sugars), he goes over the plan in his mind.
He is going to attempt to enlist Hermione in his plot to escape Potter’s wedding. Somehow they need to convince Remus that Severus is invited, Harry that Remus has given up his mad idea, and both of them not to discuss it. Severus is of the opinion that Polyjuice Potion is the best option, but Hermione knows Harry better than Severus does—and Severus actually has an excuse to visit her.
The rain has slowed to a determined drizzle by the time Severus feels awake enough to take a tray of tea and toast up to Remus. Remus is not a morning person, and damp weather makes his pain stronger. Wolfsbane follows Severus upstairs, nipping at his bare heels, then leaps onto the bed with the force of a small earthquake.
Remus says, “Umph?” and burrows his head under the duvet.
Severus permits himself ten seconds of indulgent smiling, then sits on the edge of the bed. “Lazy werewolf,” he says, his tone affectionate. He has a sudden memory of how his mother used to wake him when he was very small, singing a song about the sun getting out of bed to shine. The memory flits through his mind and is gone before it has a chance to freeze on his face.
Remus sighs, then the covers part to reveal a blinking and sleepy face. “Morning already?” he mumbles plaintively.
Severus leans over and kisses him. “I brought you toast and tea and the cat. Go back to sleep after if you want, but I have a meeting to get to.” Wolfsbane, he notices, has taken up residence under Remus’ ear, his purr loud enough to rival the storm.
“Meeting?” Remus only sounds marginally more awake, even though he is trying to push himself into a sitting position.
“Mmm. Potions talk, all very boring. I’ll be back for lunch.”
Remus takes a sip of tea and sighs. “Sounds like a gale out there.”
“I’ll wear my Wellies,” Severus assures in his driest voice.
Remus laughs, always a rich, warm sound, especially in the morning. Severus stands and Apparates.
The Granger-Weasley cottage has a covered entry, and it is here that Hermione’s Apparition coordinates have brought him. Severus stares at the door (painted an improbable shade of orange) for a moment, then knocks.
He expects it to be Hermione who answers. He has steeled himself for it to be Ron. He is not in the least prepared for a four-year-old with strawberry-blond hair and silvery Veela eyes. Ah. Bill and Fleur’s boy. Lightning flashes.
“Mummy!” the child shrieks, and bursts into tears. Severus blinks; he is used to frightening children, but not usually this quickly.
Then another combination of lightning and thunder assaults them and the child is quite suddenly attached to Severus’ knees. Alarmed, he tries to shake it off, but it is as tenacious as Wolfsbane and when he reaches down to pry it off, he only ends up with it attached to his arms instead of his legs. Dear mother of Merlin I hate children, he thinks, and props it gingerly on his hip.
As the storm is plainly terrifying the horrid creature, it is only logical to go inside and shut the door. This puts Severus in a large homely kitchen where the lino is cracked but clean and colourful stick drawings paper the refrigerator door.
“Hush, it’s only weather,” Severus tells the sobbing Weasley. “Merlin and Nimue rowing so loud we can hear it.” He sighs. “Oh, shut it. You can’t tell me your Uncles’ joke shop isn’t this loud!” The child continues wailing.
Footsteps thump unevenly towards him and he is suddenly confronted with the object of many of his nightmares—except that the last time Severus saw him, his hair had wide streaks of premature white, but he hadn’t yet grown the beard, which is also liberally swathed with white. The magical leg is hidden under trousers and robes, but one sleeve drapes conspicuously over the missing hand.
“Hallo, Snape. Terrorizing my nephew, are you?” Ron’s face is not kind or welcoming, but neither is it openly hostile. Plainly Hermione has had a Talk with her husband.
“He attacked me,” Severus says, not removing the hand that is automatically stroking the fine strawberry-blond hair.
“I reckon so. Scared of thunderstorms, and we can’t cure him of it.”
Severus doesn’t speak, but in another minute he does offer Ron the quieted child.
Ron accepts the boy and then nods towards a closed inner door. “Mione’s in her office. She got an unexpected Floo call and ordered me to be nice to you.”
Severus smiles thinly. “Quite a trial for you, I expect. I free you from your duty, Mr Weasley.”
“D’you want tea?” Ron asks, surprising him. Ron waves his empty sleeve. “I can manage that one-handed.”
“Why is it that people persist in making jokes about their disabilities?” Severus realizes a moment after he speaks that Remus actually hasn’t joked about his disability for some time. He wonders if he should be concerned about this.
“Well, if we can’t hide them, we might as well turn them to our advantage,” Ron says. He is holding the child on his hip with the maimed arm, using his good hand to lift the teapot to the stove. Severus thinks wistfully of the Dark magic Voldemort had used to create Pettigrew’s silver hand, then tells himself not to be a fool.
The silence has stretched between them and Severus is just beginning to wonder if he is going to have to damn his pride and apologize when Ron speaks.
“Hermione says you’re taking care of Remus.” His voice is awkwardly serious.
Severus stares for a moment, shocked. Why would she say that? More like Remus is taking care of me, flits the wry thought. Then he wonders how Remus would respond to that.
“I am taking care of Remus,” he says slowly, “in much the manner that Hermione took care of you. Barring the pregnancy part.” Then he thinks Remus wouldn’t have been sarcastic, followed by My God, I just came out to Ron Weasley. He experiences an urgent desire to be sick.
This doesn’t give Ron pause for long. “Huh. Yeah, I always thought Tonks was barking up the wrong tree with Remus.” He lifts the kettle off the heat and pours. “Listen, Hermione says you two are good for each other, and I’m not going to argue. But I am going to tell you that Remus has a lot of friends who care about him, and if you cock things up, we’ll kill you, Ministry pardon or no.”
The flash of emotion that follows this statement is a mixture of anger, resentment, and relief. “Where were all those friends while he was in hospital?” Severus says acidly.
To his surprise, Ron responds by turning very red, ears first. “I…I’m not proud, all right? But it was hard to see him, knowing everything he’s going through.”
“Going through alone until I chanced to visit him,” Severus snaps.
“I know that, all right?” Ron retorts. He looks down. “It’s just…knowing that pain…I just want to leave it behind me, yeah? And he’s…he can’t get out. I used to visit him with Mione and Harry and Gin, but…he was so fake, so hearty and not himself. I started having to take Dreamless Sleep every night because I was having nightmares of…of That Night.”
Severus can hear the capital letters, and they feel like a punch in the gut. That Night. The night Severus saved Ron Weasley and left Dedalus Diggle to die.
Ron’s voice is toneless and vague. “I remember them dragging me and Dig out of the cell they’d kept us in. I remember being relieved that it was finally over and I could die. Told Dig I was honoured to die at his side. Wanted Harry to be there, but at least I wasn’t alone. Dig called me a dunderheaded Gryffindor idiot and said I wasn’t going to die. Said I was too thick-headed to die, and that Harry needed me…if I could stop being a dunce and…”
The words trail off and Ron stares at Severus. Severus’ stomach jumps unpleasantly and he wonders how quickly he can reach the sink to be sick.
“No,” Ron whispers. “He said Potter needed me…and Dig was a Gryffindor like us…” Blast. The boy was slow, but the memories were true. “Merlin. It was you, sir. Wasn’t it? My God, all this time, and you…you could’ve called me to witness at your trial.” Ron’s eyes seem very blue. Or perhaps it is just because they are so wide.
“You couldn’t testify if you didn’t remember,” Severus says uncomfortably. He looks at the sleeping child to avoid meeting Ron’s eyes.
“But if it—"
“I must go,” Severus says, standing so abruptly his chair scrapes loudly on the floor. “Give Hermione my apologies.”
“Snape, wait—"
But Severus has Apparated home, Weasley teacup still clutched in his hand. He stares at it, swallowing hard, and sets it on the table.
Thunder crashes overhead, shaking the windowpanes in their casing. Severus takes a deep breath and climbs the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt. He reaches the bedroom and pushes off his shoes, then leaves his trousers on a heap on the floor.
Wolfsbane shifts as Severus slides under the covers and curls up against Remus.
“Muunph…meeting?”
“Cancelled due to weather,” Severus mumbles.
“Good. Come warm up.” Remus’ arms wrap around him and hold him tight.
Prompt: 28 - Weather
WC: 1,869
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
Many thanks to my dear beta readers
astraea36, jenw118, and thesnapelyone!Rain is pelting against the windowpane when Severus wakes in the morning. He barely suppresses a groan; of all the days for him to have arranged a meeting with someone, it had to be today. Thunder crawls in low rumbles across the sky, and Severus rolls onto his side to bury his face against Remus’ neck. Remus makes a sleepy noise and Severus falls back asleep.
The second time he wakes it is because of the weather. He is dreaming of Azkaban when a loud crash of thunder rips through his dream and drags him into shivering wakefulness. This time Remus is snuggled up against him with comforting warmth; Severus lies there, listening to his lover’s deep, even breathing and staring at the stained ceiling, until the light bubbles have been erupting from the alarm clock for a quarter of an hour.
Wolfsbane picks his way delicately across the grey blanket and rubs against Severus’ chin once before sinking needle-sharp teeth into his nose. Dratted cat. Severus reaches up and detaches him, then sighs and climbs out of bed.
He puts on his dressing gown because the house is susceptible to early morning chill and then tucks the kitten absent-mindedly in one of the voluminous pockets. As he makes his way down the stairs he hears the thump of the delivery owl against the kitchen window. He hopes the paper isn’t soaked.
He gives Wolfsbane some food and starts brewing coffee. He is pleased to discover the Prophet is charmed Impervius, so he reads it while he waits for the coffee to finish. Then, as he eats his toast and drinks his coffee (no cream, two sugars), he goes over the plan in his mind.
He is going to attempt to enlist Hermione in his plot to escape Potter’s wedding. Somehow they need to convince Remus that Severus is invited, Harry that Remus has given up his mad idea, and both of them not to discuss it. Severus is of the opinion that Polyjuice Potion is the best option, but Hermione knows Harry better than Severus does—and Severus actually has an excuse to visit her.
The rain has slowed to a determined drizzle by the time Severus feels awake enough to take a tray of tea and toast up to Remus. Remus is not a morning person, and damp weather makes his pain stronger. Wolfsbane follows Severus upstairs, nipping at his bare heels, then leaps onto the bed with the force of a small earthquake.
Remus says, “Umph?” and burrows his head under the duvet.
Severus permits himself ten seconds of indulgent smiling, then sits on the edge of the bed. “Lazy werewolf,” he says, his tone affectionate. He has a sudden memory of how his mother used to wake him when he was very small, singing a song about the sun getting out of bed to shine. The memory flits through his mind and is gone before it has a chance to freeze on his face.
Remus sighs, then the covers part to reveal a blinking and sleepy face. “Morning already?” he mumbles plaintively.
Severus leans over and kisses him. “I brought you toast and tea and the cat. Go back to sleep after if you want, but I have a meeting to get to.” Wolfsbane, he notices, has taken up residence under Remus’ ear, his purr loud enough to rival the storm.
“Meeting?” Remus only sounds marginally more awake, even though he is trying to push himself into a sitting position.
“Mmm. Potions talk, all very boring. I’ll be back for lunch.”
Remus takes a sip of tea and sighs. “Sounds like a gale out there.”
“I’ll wear my Wellies,” Severus assures in his driest voice.
Remus laughs, always a rich, warm sound, especially in the morning. Severus stands and Apparates.
The Granger-Weasley cottage has a covered entry, and it is here that Hermione’s Apparition coordinates have brought him. Severus stares at the door (painted an improbable shade of orange) for a moment, then knocks.
He expects it to be Hermione who answers. He has steeled himself for it to be Ron. He is not in the least prepared for a four-year-old with strawberry-blond hair and silvery Veela eyes. Ah. Bill and Fleur’s boy. Lightning flashes.
“Mummy!” the child shrieks, and bursts into tears. Severus blinks; he is used to frightening children, but not usually this quickly.
Then another combination of lightning and thunder assaults them and the child is quite suddenly attached to Severus’ knees. Alarmed, he tries to shake it off, but it is as tenacious as Wolfsbane and when he reaches down to pry it off, he only ends up with it attached to his arms instead of his legs. Dear mother of Merlin I hate children, he thinks, and props it gingerly on his hip.
As the storm is plainly terrifying the horrid creature, it is only logical to go inside and shut the door. This puts Severus in a large homely kitchen where the lino is cracked but clean and colourful stick drawings paper the refrigerator door.
“Hush, it’s only weather,” Severus tells the sobbing Weasley. “Merlin and Nimue rowing so loud we can hear it.” He sighs. “Oh, shut it. You can’t tell me your Uncles’ joke shop isn’t this loud!” The child continues wailing.
Footsteps thump unevenly towards him and he is suddenly confronted with the object of many of his nightmares—except that the last time Severus saw him, his hair had wide streaks of premature white, but he hadn’t yet grown the beard, which is also liberally swathed with white. The magical leg is hidden under trousers and robes, but one sleeve drapes conspicuously over the missing hand.
“Hallo, Snape. Terrorizing my nephew, are you?” Ron’s face is not kind or welcoming, but neither is it openly hostile. Plainly Hermione has had a Talk with her husband.
“He attacked me,” Severus says, not removing the hand that is automatically stroking the fine strawberry-blond hair.
“I reckon so. Scared of thunderstorms, and we can’t cure him of it.”
Severus doesn’t speak, but in another minute he does offer Ron the quieted child.
Ron accepts the boy and then nods towards a closed inner door. “Mione’s in her office. She got an unexpected Floo call and ordered me to be nice to you.”
Severus smiles thinly. “Quite a trial for you, I expect. I free you from your duty, Mr Weasley.”
“D’you want tea?” Ron asks, surprising him. Ron waves his empty sleeve. “I can manage that one-handed.”
“Why is it that people persist in making jokes about their disabilities?” Severus realizes a moment after he speaks that Remus actually hasn’t joked about his disability for some time. He wonders if he should be concerned about this.
“Well, if we can’t hide them, we might as well turn them to our advantage,” Ron says. He is holding the child on his hip with the maimed arm, using his good hand to lift the teapot to the stove. Severus thinks wistfully of the Dark magic Voldemort had used to create Pettigrew’s silver hand, then tells himself not to be a fool.
The silence has stretched between them and Severus is just beginning to wonder if he is going to have to damn his pride and apologize when Ron speaks.
“Hermione says you’re taking care of Remus.” His voice is awkwardly serious.
Severus stares for a moment, shocked. Why would she say that? More like Remus is taking care of me, flits the wry thought. Then he wonders how Remus would respond to that.
“I am taking care of Remus,” he says slowly, “in much the manner that Hermione took care of you. Barring the pregnancy part.” Then he thinks Remus wouldn’t have been sarcastic, followed by My God, I just came out to Ron Weasley. He experiences an urgent desire to be sick.
This doesn’t give Ron pause for long. “Huh. Yeah, I always thought Tonks was barking up the wrong tree with Remus.” He lifts the kettle off the heat and pours. “Listen, Hermione says you two are good for each other, and I’m not going to argue. But I am going to tell you that Remus has a lot of friends who care about him, and if you cock things up, we’ll kill you, Ministry pardon or no.”
The flash of emotion that follows this statement is a mixture of anger, resentment, and relief. “Where were all those friends while he was in hospital?” Severus says acidly.
To his surprise, Ron responds by turning very red, ears first. “I…I’m not proud, all right? But it was hard to see him, knowing everything he’s going through.”
“Going through alone until I chanced to visit him,” Severus snaps.
“I know that, all right?” Ron retorts. He looks down. “It’s just…knowing that pain…I just want to leave it behind me, yeah? And he’s…he can’t get out. I used to visit him with Mione and Harry and Gin, but…he was so fake, so hearty and not himself. I started having to take Dreamless Sleep every night because I was having nightmares of…of That Night.”
Severus can hear the capital letters, and they feel like a punch in the gut. That Night. The night Severus saved Ron Weasley and left Dedalus Diggle to die.
Ron’s voice is toneless and vague. “I remember them dragging me and Dig out of the cell they’d kept us in. I remember being relieved that it was finally over and I could die. Told Dig I was honoured to die at his side. Wanted Harry to be there, but at least I wasn’t alone. Dig called me a dunderheaded Gryffindor idiot and said I wasn’t going to die. Said I was too thick-headed to die, and that Harry needed me…if I could stop being a dunce and…”
The words trail off and Ron stares at Severus. Severus’ stomach jumps unpleasantly and he wonders how quickly he can reach the sink to be sick.
“No,” Ron whispers. “He said Potter needed me…and Dig was a Gryffindor like us…” Blast. The boy was slow, but the memories were true. “Merlin. It was you, sir. Wasn’t it? My God, all this time, and you…you could’ve called me to witness at your trial.” Ron’s eyes seem very blue. Or perhaps it is just because they are so wide.
“You couldn’t testify if you didn’t remember,” Severus says uncomfortably. He looks at the sleeping child to avoid meeting Ron’s eyes.
“But if it—"
“I must go,” Severus says, standing so abruptly his chair scrapes loudly on the floor. “Give Hermione my apologies.”
“Snape, wait—"
But Severus has Apparated home, Weasley teacup still clutched in his hand. He stares at it, swallowing hard, and sets it on the table.
Thunder crashes overhead, shaking the windowpanes in their casing. Severus takes a deep breath and climbs the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt. He reaches the bedroom and pushes off his shoes, then leaves his trousers on a heap on the floor.
Wolfsbane shifts as Severus slides under the covers and curls up against Remus.
“Muunph…meeting?”
“Cancelled due to weather,” Severus mumbles.
“Good. Come warm up.” Remus’ arms wrap around him and hold him tight.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-08-04 02:16 pm (UTC)I love the picture of Sev trying to extricate himself from the octopod-child and giving up. It reminds me of trying to deal with cleavers when I get around to weeding the garden.
I do think that when life gets to be too much, burying oneself in Remus Lupin is a very good idea. *wants a Remus of her own*
no subject
Date: 2006-08-04 09:07 pm (UTC)And here's your very own mistake-catching-drabble:
---
“Em. Perhaps we should have turned left at that stile.” Remus shifted the map around, frowning.
“Idiotic Gryffindor! We’ll never finish the assignment now!”
Remus glanced sideways at his walking partner, wishing he’d got anyone but the snarky Slytherin who hated all Remus’ mates.
“Right. We’ll just backtrack and turn the other way.”
“This walk about the Forbidden Forest should have been over an hour ago!”
Remus grinned suddenly. “We could always cut through the forest.”
“Are you mad! There are werewolves in there…oh.”
Remus laughed at Snape’s sour expression. “And here I thought you’d never forget.”
Severus just glared.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-05 07:04 am (UTC)