Without Seeking, Without
Asking
Author:
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: SS/RL
Book/Spoilers: post-war
Warnings: bottom Snape, hair-sex
Summary: The final battle looms for two erstwhile lovers and it's
aftermath could pull them apart.
A/N: Thanks to subliculous
for the hair-sex bunny. This one is for my sweetie since I couldn't
afford to take her out to dinner for Valentine's Day, either .
DISCLAIMER:
The HP Universe is Rowlings.
Some of us just get
perverted bunny bites like to make sure the characters get to
have sex.
Remus hated this place. He'd hated it as a kid and he hated it most
especially now that he had to return to it. What he hated most was
being alone... again.
While the rational part of his mind had told him over and over things
wouldn't work out between Nymphadora and himself, another part still
felt saddened he'd never get a chance to find out. She had been with
him during his transformation only once. She'd come with him to the
Shrieking Shack and taken the form of a female wolf. It had, he
recalled, embarrassed him.
Now he felt guilty as he remembered how he'd wished there were some way
to tell her his heart wasn't in their relationship. She had been so
lively, such a bright spot in an otherwise dreary existence. He had
felt humbled and fearful at her attentions. Those such as he were not
intended for someone like her. The choice to tell her or hope he would
be able to live up to his end of the relationship was taken from him
last month.
She had been guarding some Death Eater prisoners at Azkaban that
Voldemort wanted returned to his fold. Despite reinforcements, there
had simply been too many Dementors. She was still alive, if one could
call it that, but at St. Mungo's in a ward with the Longbottoms.
Another failure of them all, he thought.
He scratched an itchy spot on his arm and winced, anticipating moonrise
in less than an hours time, when he would tear flesh, break things,
howling like the animal he became.
Remus cursed and paced and sweated and trembled. He hated this place.
~(*)~
"I give it to you, Severus. This was really quite good. I wouldn't have
thought you the sort to cook. I mean, you've been having me do
everythi--"
"One loses the knack. Sometimes one wishes to do things oneself,"
Severus sipped at his wine and forked up some more treacle tart.
"Oh, indeed. I've quite forgotten most of what I knew to make before. I
spent so long in my animagus form."
"As a rat," Snape sneered from behind his glass of wine and looked at
Pettigrew through hooded eyes. "A garden-variety rat."
Peter bristled. "At least I have a different form. It's not a skill
just anyone possesses."
Snape released a heavy breath. "True."
"Even you with all your potions talen--"
"Wormtail... just how much do you weigh?"
Peter paused, taken aback both by the question and Snape's tone.
"I...I don't know. I've not been weighed since my school days. W-why do
you want to know?"
Severus put his wine glass down and eyed him, assessing. "You're what--
about 1 and a half metres?"
"One point seven."
"Hm. That must be it then."
"W-what?"
"Do you feel any different, Wormtail?"
"Stop calling me that!" Peter cried, indignant now and worried at
Snape's unrelenting focus. "Only the Dark Lor--"
"And your friends, Wormtail. Your old school friends. That is what they
called you, is it not?"
Pettigrew flushed, disturbed and angry now.
"Yes! You weren't one of them, though!"
"No indeed," Snape agreed, taking another sip of wine. "Were you going
to finish the treacle?"
At this, Peter paled and stared at the food.
"Y-you... you've poisoned me!"
"You poisoned yourself," Severus said in a silky tone. He served
himself a bit more treacle.
"B-but... you ate the same thing!"
Snape glanced at him before eating another forkful of treacle. His
voice was full of loathing.
"Pathetic. So learned the lot of you so-called Marauders and with such
enemies, yet not one of you was ever taught or ever considered the
importance of developing a resistance to poisons."
"Ah!" Peter's eyes were wide and he clutched now at his midsection.
"You must weigh more than I figured," the Potions Master muttered,
wiping his mouth with a napkin and preparing to stand, wand in hand.
"W-what?"
"Imperio!"
The trembling Peter stopped shuddering and gasping. Snape unlatched the
door with a flick of his wand and it hung open a few inches.
"You will take your animagus form and you will traverse to our master's
kitchen where you will squeak and squeal like the rodent you are."
Soon Wormtail was gone, fleeing through the open door.
Snape did not bother to see if he was gone or not. He went to latch the
door, glancing at the sky. It was still not moonrise, but it was very
close.
He took one last sip of wine, then apparated.
~(*)~
Remus could feel the call. The moon had not yet risen, but he could
feel it coming.
He took all his clothes off and placed them high in the cupboard, his
shoes on top. With trepidation, he put his wand beside them and closed
the cupboard.
Soon...
A sudden sound made him tense and he stilled. He heard it again; the
sound of footsteps, someone climbing the staircase. Someone was coming!
He went back to the cupboard to get his wand, cursing the curiousity of
kids, thinking it must surely be some students who had found the
tunnel, when a remembered voice sounded.
"Lupin?"
He spun and faced Severus Snape.
The Potions Master arched a brow at his nudity, but said nothing. He
merely held out a steaming goblet of something that smelled deeply
familiar. His expression was pained, but Remus knew few others would
have been able to read him.
"Severus?"
"You've not much time. Minutes, I fear."
He looked from Snape to the goblet. His mind considered the options and
he mentally shrugged. He took the goblet and gulped down the contents,
eyes tearing at the foul taste and heat of it.
"Thank you."
Snape's expression did not change. "It might have been poison."
Remus smiled. "Thank you anyway. The Solstice and Equinox
transformations are particularly harsh. Sometimes I think poison would
be welcome."
"Foolish Gryffindor."
"And you, Severus Snape, are a sentimental Slytherin."
Remus found himself holding the other man tightly, inhaling deeply to
surround himself with those beloved smells -- tea, wool, warm musk with
an oddly bitter tang, lanoline, and the hint of oatmeal he knew stemmed
from the soap Severus preferred. There were, he suddenly realized,
tears in his eyes.
Snape drew in an unsteady breath of his own, merely holding Lupin
carefully, but no less aware of his touch, his scent.
Lupin moved to kiss him, but he pulled his face back.
"I can't."
The werewolf looked so hurt that Severus touched his face; explaining
in a whisper, "Don't be a fool. I don't dare. I've eaten poison."
Lupin was about to exclaim when Snape shook his head, adding, "I'm
immune."
"I thought I smelt something strange, something bitter. Thank the gods
you're immune."
"Thank foresight." Snape sighed, and kept stroking Lupin's face; it was
as if he could not stop himself, as if he'd been wanting to for too
long. "Things are in motion, Remus. Things will be ended tonight."
"I knew you weren't his," Remus managed to say, despite the
passion building inside him. It was futile he knew; they probably had
mere moments before moonrise.
"I don't know who I belong to anymore," Severus admitted.
"I've never forsaken you."
"I... I would understand if you had."
"I could never forsake you, Severus Snape."
Snape frowned at this, but Lupin held onto him all the more tightly.
"I could smell your innocence. I still can. Whatever
happened... I know you weren't truly to blame."
Severus stared at him, then stepped back as the other man stiffened,
eyes widening in surprise.
"Moonrise." It was all Lupin said before the transformation struck.
He writhed in agony as his bones elongated, his tendons stretched and
snapped, sinew reshaped, his skin took on new texture, his bones a new
shape.
Soon, a whimpering wolf lay at Snape's feet and whined. Severus looked
at his erstwhile-lover, and sighed.
"I'll return at sunrise. If I can."
The wolf extended its tongue to lick his shoe and Snape hurried out of
the Shrieking Shack.
~(*)~
No one outside the Order ever spoke of the ease with which Harry Potter
slew Lord Voldemort, just as no outside the Order ever touted up all
the convenient mishaps the Death Eaters and their allies seemed to have
that fateful Equinox...
~(*)~
Sunrise found Remus waking up with a sneeze as a bit of dust tickled
his sensitive nostrils. Between one startled breath and the next, his
transformation back began.
Soon he lay gasping, naked and aching on the floor of the Shrieking
Shack. Still, it was better than it had been. The Wolfsbane Potion was
most effective and he could tell Severus had been working to improve
it.
He looked about, but there was no sign of him and he sighed as he
fetched his clothes from the cupboard and dressed.
He made his way down the stairs only to stop in dismay.
A bundle of dark rags appeared to lie at the bottom of the stairs. As
he hurried down he realized it was Severus.
Snape was leaning against the stairs on his folded arms. The air of
exhaustion about him was practically palpable and he was trying to
catch his breath.
"Severus?"
The exhausted man lifted his head, looking at him through those long
black strands and hitched in a painful breath.
"He's dead."
Remus moved down to him and helped him stand, putting his arm around
him. He was going to take him upstairs to rest, but Snape shook his
head as vigorously as he could manage.
"No. Better place."
"Tell me. I'll apparate us there."
"Just help me."
Remus nodded and half-walked, half-dragged him out to the opening where
they could apparate.
Once outside, as the Whomping Willow quivered impotently, Remus
concentrated, giving of his power freely as Severus clutched at him,
then popped them both out of existence.
The kitchen where they appeared was small and there were dishes on the
table.
"Don't eat anything," Severus slurred, barely holding on to
consciousness. "Poison."
"I won't. Let's get you in bed."
"No. Front room. Couch."
Remus didn't argue, he moved down the hall and deposited his burden
gently on the battered, faded couch. Severus fell asleep instantly.
A beam of sunlight woke Severus as the sun reached its zenith and he
woke up to the scent of bacon reaching his sensitive nostrils. He
sighed, then his eyes grew wide and he pushed himself off the couch and
lurched in an uncharacteristically graceless fashion toward the
kitchen.
"No! Don't eat anything!"
The startled Remus turned, fork in hand to look at the pale, gasping,
frightened and disheveled spectacle in the kitchen entryway.
"Easy, Severus. I bought this. It's not from your larder or pantry."
Severus caught his breath, staring at the now clean table and Remus
quickly added, "I scourgified everything. I tossed the dishes in the
rubbish bin. I transfigured new plates, glasses and cups."
Only then did Severus allow himself to go sit on one of the chairs. He
held his head in his hands and Remus could see he was shaking. He
served him some tea.
"Here. Do you good."
"You bought this?"
Remus nodded with a smile, then took his wand out and touched the
kitchen rag by the sink which promptly transfigured into a small stack
of Muggle money. He stuffed it into his pocket and shrugged.
"I don't like to do that, but sometimes... needs must."
Snape released a deep sigh and got up. "I need the toilet."
"I'll have dinner for you when you get back."
Dinner consisted of bacon and tomato sandwiches, a pile of chips
sprinkled with vinegar and salt and plenty of good, strong tea.
Both ate as if they were starving, and they certainly felt deprived,
neither having eaten since the day before. Remus might have eaten
sooner, but he had trouble eating anything immediately after his
transformation, so he'd busied himself about the place, sorting the
kitchen out and then going out to find a grocer's to buy some food.
"This is your home."
Severus looked up at this and a slight smile quirked his lips.
"What gave it away? The pictures on the desk? My old school trunk in
the cupboard?"
"Your clothes are in the big room upstairs. Your teaching robes, too,
and your shoes."
"It was my parents. Now it's mine. Not that I'm here much. Nor am I
intending to stay."
"I... I saw the owls today. Dozens of them as I went to the store. Even
the Muggles mentioned them. They think its mating season or some kind
of migration pattern that got disturbed." Remus looked down at him.
"You said 'he's dead', Severus."
Those thin lips stretched into a startling smile and to Lupin's
surprise, he ripped at his sleeve, unmindful of the fabric to show him
his arm - free of the Dark Mark. Nothing, not even a hint of colour
disturbed the smooth ivory flesh.
"The boy did it. We're free. Well... some of us, at any rate." Snape's
eyes were wet with tears, but he looked so happy, the emotion
was closer to mania.
Remus sat stunned and speechless for so long that Severus grew worried.
Then a smile broke free on Lupin's face and Snape found himself being
clutched and held. He wasn't surprised to find himself clutching back,
holding Remus as tightly as he could.
~(*)~
The mattress was worn and stained and sagged. The springs creaked.
Neither occupant cared.
"Oh, fuck... Remus..."
"Yes, Severus. Yes."
Remus slowed his jerky thrusts to a slow, soothing rhythm; one he knew
would drive the sweating man beneath him mad.
"Remus!"
"Easy, love.
"I-I need..."
"Go on."
"More! Move! Move!"
"As you wish." Remus sped up his hips and reveled in the low, pained
groan that sounded and how Severus arched his back and threw his head
back, those long, glossy black strands of hair driving him mad.
One day, he promised himself, he would find out what it would feel like
to have that hair wrapped around his cock.
"Yes..." was breathed out in a relieved sigh.
"You feel wonderful, Severus."
"Fuck me."
Remus smiled. Severus never said 'shut up and fuck me', but he knew
that was what he meant, so he did.
Focusing now on the surreal beauty of Severus Snape, nude, pale skin
stretched out before him, surrounding his very centre, legs wrapped
tight around him, that long, beautiful cock bobbing between them, those
black eyes beseeching...
Lupin growled, fisted that cock and began to stroke it, hard. The sound
this caused Severus to make made him lose all control.
Lupin clenched his teeth, closed his eyes tightly and began to
ejaculate, feeling himself pulsing into his partner's willing body. His
fist clenched with each aftershock and he felt the warm pulse of
Snape's semen sliding over his knuckles as he also found release.
Gently disengaging, he fell beside Severus; each lover fighting to
catch his breath.
"What do you mean you're not staying?"
"Remus... I can't." That voice was devastatingly gentle as he
spoke. "I will always be a Death Eater to our world. I will always be a
murderer. I will always be hunted. I cannot and will not live like a
frightened animal."
"Where will you go?"
"South America? America? There are places one can get lost, make a
living."
"But what--"
"I was hoping," Snape would not look at him, staring instead at a stain
on the drywall. "I was hoping you would become my Secret Keeper."
"No."
"Remus, be sensible!"
"No! I can't."
"No Gryffindor can. I'm not staying, you damn fool. It's of no use.
This... this--"
"This was a good-bye fuck, was it?"
"Remus..."
"I'm going with you."
At this Snape glared at him through those tangled black locks.
"You can't."
"I can."
"They'll hunt you, too!"
"They won't even know. I'm assuming you took care about arranging your
'death'?"
Snape nodded.
"Then we can arrange mine."
He considered this. "Possibly."
"And someone else will be our Secret Keeper. Minerva, perhaps?"
"Does she know? Have you written anyone?"
"Don't be a fool. Of course, I've not written anyone. But as to does
she know, she suspects. She's never quite believed you... well, did
what Harry accused you of."
"I had to do it, Remus."
"You don't have to tell me. I meant what I said before. I know you're
innocent. I know you had no choice. Let me at least ask her."
"You're taking a risk. If anyone sees you alive when you're supposed to
have died..."
"Is your floo connected?"
~(*)~
No one outside the Order ever spoke of the ease with which Harry Potter
slew Lord Voldemort, just as no outside the Order ever touted up all
the convenient mishaps the Death Eaters and their allies seemed to have
that fateful Equinox.
Only Hermione had actually determined what happened, but then she kept
her silence much as any other Secret Keeper would. So long as she and
the bonder kept the names of Severus Snape and Remus Lupin in their
memory only, the secret would remain.
Aside from Hermione, only Minerva McGonagall broached the subject of
what happened that Vernal Equinox, and only in her private
correspondence and only once.
She had written to "Sloan" to thank him for his help to the Order. In
her letter she had pointed out how very curious and fortunate it was
that Greyback had sent his werewolves to hunt down and slay Dolores
Umbridge and Cornelius Fudge of the Ministry on the very day they had
shared a bottle of Witching Hour Wine Fudge had received as a gift.
After having eaten the loathsome pair, the werewolves had all been
stricken with Moonseed Poisoning. Their intended three-day reign of
nocturnal terror never materialized and all the antagonistic,
violence-minded werewolves in the Isles had been struck down that very
night. Fenrir, of course, had died at the battlegrounds.
It was also most fortunate that Nagini had ingested a tainted rodent of
some kind, but then, that happened to snakes sometimes. Still, without
his last horcrux, the Dark Lord had been exceedingly vulnerable - a
vulnerability that the Order and Harry had put to good use.
Sloan had never answered, but then he never did. "Ronan" was the one
who had kept up a correspondence with her the last year and a half,
Muggle-style. His letters arrived like clockwork, with occasional
Muggle-style pictures to show her of their new life.
She was responding to his latest missive, thanking him for the
photograph of their flourishing business, as well as one he'd taken
surreptitiously of Sloan in denim jeans and a chambray shirt with a
broad-brimmed hat working on repotting some plants in the bright sun.
His hair was to his shoulder blades, braided down his back and Sloan
looked tanned and hale and content. The picture had made her smile.
She sent her well wishes for them both, thanked him for this kind
invitation and informed him that she would be delighted to spend the
Christmas holidays with them and finished up by wishing them a lovely
Autumnal Equinox.
Minerva still found it exceedingly odd to place her letter within an
addressed envelope, transfigure a bit of lint into a stamp of the sort
Hermione had shown her, affix it to the envelope and then drop it in
the Muggle post box down the lane from Severus's old house. Owls,
however, could not fly such a distance, and the few transcontinental
floo connections were large and busy affairs with far too many people
able to listen to private conversations. She did not truly mind, but
she still found herself bemused by the very Muggle procedure.
She knew the route to the post box quite well by now, but then, when
the Wizengamot had liquidated all Death Eater holdings as part of the
war reparations, she had bid for and won the auction of the Spinner's
End property. To the Ministry, all Death Eaters were guilty, regardless
of circumstance, and Severus Snape was no different. The fact he'd
'died' in the final battle had been greatly celebrated in the wizarding
world, but Minerva disregarded most of the ignorant celebrants. They
knew no better.
The only one whose glee at his death truly hurt her was Harry's, but
then, how could he know? Or be allowed to?
The fact no one gave more than a passing thought about the harsh, but
brilliant Potions Master ever again might have saddened her if it
weren't for the knowledge that a mere golem was buried in his name and
that he was, even now, getting a second chance at a new life in sunnier
climes.
The fact that many grieved for Remus, who it was assumed, was
incinerated by the Ministry along with dozens of other werewolves after
that horrid night was assuaged by her knowledge that, in fact, Remus
Lupin was very much alive and in the very good company of Severus
Snape.
She and Hermione often met for tea and while they never brought up any
names but Sloan and Ronan, their smiles were knowing and wistful.
Sometimes she wondered if she shouldn't have gone with her two boys.
The healers had told her the Scottish winters were getting too hard for
her lungs, damaged since Harry's fifth year when she'd been hit by
multiple hexes as she'd tried to stop the attack against Hagrid led by
Dolores Umbridge. Whilst her other injuries had healed well, her lungs
had been almost literally steam-cooked within her, and although the
healers had regrown them, they remained weak.
Snape's house wasn't in Scotland, but it was far north enough for her
to feel at home. The weather was milder and her lungs had not griped
her since she'd moved. It was not a spacious place, but it was enough
for her. It was warm and she made it cozy.
She sometimes missed teaching, but the few advanced Transfigurations
students she tutoured each morning made up for it. The rest of the day
was hers in what she would always think of as Severus's house, even if
she never uttered his name again in her life.
~(*)~
Sloan Coal looked up from his book to the plate of what appeared to be
gruel that Ronan Wolfe was offering to him.
"What is it?"
"Something called instant oatmeal. It was on sale."
"Looks revolting."
Ronan spooned some up and nodded. "Tastes pretty good. Lots of
cinnamon." He had a bite of bread and added, "Eat it with the bread.
It's not bad."
Sloan took a heaping spoonful and shoveled it in his mouth. He got a
faraway expression, and then closed his eyes as he rolled the food in
his mouth, clearly testing it for taste and texture. Finally he
swallowed.
"It will do." He got a piece of bread.
"Will you want an egg?"
Sloan shook his head, eating rapidly now in between bites of bread and
sips of tea. He also had half his attention on a book he was reading.
"I need to tend to the herbs in the back greenhouse."
"I guess I'll be alone at the till?" Ronan inquired.
Sloan looked up from his novel. "Only for the morning. The seeds
Granger sent us sprouted. I will be able to make your monthly potion
now without import costs."
"That will be helpful."
"Indeed." He sighed, then slipped Minerva McGonagall's letter to him
into the book as a bookmark. He may never have answered it, but the
letter was never far from him.
"Well, I'm off."
Sloan stood, slid his plate and cup into the sink, and headed out the
back door. Ronan watched his partner's back recede into their backyard
before sighing and turning to wash the dishes.
~(*)~
The day had been a busy one. CW Nursery was a popular establishment in
the small community. They had plants of all kinds there and both
proprietors were quite knowledgeable. They employed a couple local
teenagers in the afternoons to help stock, water, sweep and tidy and
help load purchases into their customer's vehicles.
That particular day had been an odd one. Thanks to a few dozen
birthdays, several weddings, a handful of funerals and a few
anniversary dinners, they had sold out of all their perennials in the
nursery by afternoon and by tea-time, most of their admittedly small
stock of decorative pots (the clay ones made by Sloan, the intriguing
metal ones created by Ronan) were also gone, as were nearly all of
Ronan's hand-made wind chimes.
He was reclining now on one of their living room chairs, having fallen
asleep instantly as soon as he'd collapsed on it. Sloan had headed
upstairs for a bath.
~(*)~
The hand did not wake him, although it grew quite bold, starting by
caressing his face then moving down his body unerringly to his crotch.
It stayed there and gently massaged the warm lump there, which soon
began to grow.
The unzipping of his trousers did not waken him either, although he
snorted a little when a nose nuzzled at his groin, inhaling deeply.
It was the hair that woke him. Long, silky, slightly damp strands that
stroked along his hard cock and then moved back down in a rough and
strangely arousing sort of sensation.
"Se--Sloan?"
"Mm. Who else would it be? Expecting someone were we?"
Sloan rubbed his head against his partner again and relished the groan
Ronan made. He knew just how much he loved his hair; he'd seen the
looks he'd been giving him. He wanted to see if his hunch was correct -
that Ronan wanted nothing more than to come all over his hair.
"S-sloan..."
"Mm?"
"What are you doing?"
"Drying my hair."
Ronan groaned again as Sloan pushed his head a bit harder against him.
Great Merlin, but he was going to explode! He'd been longing to issue
onto those dark, gleaming strands for a long time and had been too
embarrassed to say anything. It seemed too uncontrolled, too
animalistic, and Ronan disliked behaving in any manner that was
reminiscent of his animal nature, the secret side of himself.
He couldn't help but gasp now at the sight of those black strands
slipping over the wet red tip of his cock that was peeking through his
foreskin.
"Ah! Ah... you'll have t-to wash your hair again, if you keep that up."
"Mm." Sloan sounded equable to this.
"Ah! Oh..."
"Yes, Ronan."
He couldn't help it, those deep, dark, velvet tones and the sight of
his partner, nude, kneeling before him, rubbing that glorious black
hair against his very centre... that voice...
"Let go, Ronan."
"Sloan!"
Even as he shouted, his scrotum tightened and his cock contracted and
pulse after pulse of glistening semen coated his partner's hair.
He released a trembling sigh as Sloan sat back, a wicked expression in
those gleaming black eyes.
"Sloan."
"Ronan."
He attempted a dignified tone, despite the damp messy ruin of his
pants.
"I shan't ask what brought that on. I shall ask if you need help with
that."
He looked pointedly at the stiff erection that lay against his
partner's stomach.
"Perhaps. But first, I really think you should follow me," Sloan stood
and took Ronan's hand, pulling him up.
"Where are we going?"
Sloan's expression was quite wicked.
"To the bathroom, of course. You have to wash my hair."
~FINIS~
Completed 14 February 2006.
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