|tetsubinatu (tetsubinatu) wrote,|
@ 2010-06-08 09:43:00
|Entry tags:||1, fic, harrypotter, r, snupin|
FIC: In a Cold Climate (Mature)
Title: In a Cold Climate
Challenge: Remix Exchange 2010
Summary: Snape can't believe it.
Disclaimer: Even less original than usual, being a remix of a fanwork based upon the work of Ms Rowling.
Notes: This fic is a remix of nimrod_9's Cardamom, Nigella Seeds and Love
My sincere thanks to lore for some very helpful ad hoc beta work! I really appreciated it!
The bed is normally quite comfortable, even with two of them in it. Severus has long since grown accustomed to the way Lupin sleeps, to his little snuffles and the way he sends one arm out to burrow under Severus' pillow. Tonight, though, there are no snuffles, no intrusive arm. Tonight Lupin remains still and quiet on his side of the bed, the echoes of his ridiculous outburst still heavy in the room.
'I love you' indeed. Severus isn't stupid, and Lupin doesn't usually treat him as if he is. What can he have been thinking?
A small boy, no more than four or five, plays at with a ball of red wool. It catches like the strands of sticky weed in the abandoned lot next door, tangling in his fingers. The pretty lady who is mama's friend told him that it was from a special kind of wool, but he can't remember what kind she said any more. He unwinds the skein with careful fingers to the tinkling of delicate teacups and the low, slow tones of his mama's voice.
"Not so bad," lilts the pretty lady. "He looks like your father. That might help."
"Oh well," his mother grumbles, "If he were pretty, perhaps, but who can love a nose like that?"
Severus absorbs the information without resentment. As long as he can remember, strangers have felt free to comment on his nose. 'A real Prince' they say in the cobbled street where he goes with his mother. Nearer home they call him 'Beaky' and 'Snoz'. It's not so bad. The little boy in the house opposite gets called 'Shirley' because of his curls. That would be worse.
He's pretty though - Shirley. His mama cuddles him a lot. That would be nice.
Lupin has a pretty good thing going, Severus thinks. Free sex and babysitting pretty much on demand. Of course, Severus has the same deal but that's only fair. Teddy is the son of a werewolf and Conall is an abandoned werewolf adopted by a former DE; neither child is going to have an easy time of it at school. They like each other. They're good for each other. It works.
Perhaps Lupin was afraid that Severus would discontinue the arrangement? Or was that something he usually said to his paramours - something that he thought they expected?
Perhaps Lupin had forgotten in whose arse he had just been buried. Perhaps he'd drifted off imagining that it was Black he held, Black he fucked. Perhaps he pretended that he was fucking Black every time he was in Severus' bed, imagined Black's handsome face and athletic body moving under his.
Or maybe he was imagining a quiddich player. Severus had been called 'Marius' once by a casual partner during the year that Marius Auramor had been Keeper for England. Auramor had angular features and dark hair, too, but his nose was straight and proportionate to his face. Severus had quite fancied him himself, although there was a Beater that year with an arse that was truly spectacular. Severus can't remember his name now but his thighs...
Severus won't say anything about Lupin's slip if Lupin doesn't. Lupin is better looking and far more likeable than he is but Severus is not a werewolf - that's the only thing that keeps Lupin from moving on, he knows, otherwise Lupin would be out of his league. So in a sense Severus owes his sex life to Greyback. His mouth twists. That isn't... a good thought.
No-one ever uses these loos. The're not convenient to anything, and there has never been a more annoyingly lacrimose ghost than Myrtle. Fortunately Severus knows how to get rid of her. So it's a surprise when he hears the chatter of female voices stop outside the door. The door creaks, opening slightly, and as Severus leaps for the darkest stall - the one farthest from the window - and wedges it shut behind him with a whisper, he hears Martina Hungerton say, "Meet you in Charms, then."
The door pushes fully open and at least three girls come in. "No Myrtle," says one gratefully. Severus thinks it could be Eliana Woodworth - she hangs around with Martina's crowd. None of them actually use the loos, it seems as if they just wanted to tidy their hair or touch up their makeup or some such foolish thing. Severus stays utterly still, listening to their gossip.
"Neither of them," Martina says firmly, apropos of nothing that Severus has heard. "Potter and Black are both egotists. Sally says that Angela says that Black's a good kisser but hopeless in bed - it's all about him.
"Angela would know!" one of the others giggles.
"No, I'd do Lupin if I had to do one of that lot," Martina says dreamily. "Have you seen his hands? And he pays attention, too. He'd be the sort to make sure you had a good time."
'Never mind his hands,' Severus thinks. 'Have you seen his arse?' He knows what Martina means, though. Lupin does have nice hands - long, flexible fingers and broad palms that Severus could imagine resting nicely on his hips.
"Pity he's a Gryff," Eliana says. "How'd we end up with all the ugly ones in Slytherin?" As the group crowds towards the door her voice drifts back. "Like Snape..." The girls around her make gagging noises until the door finally shuts with a thump behind them.
Lupin has to know that Severus isn't stupid enough to believe that those words were true. He can't possibly think that Severus wants or needs to hear them. A slip of the tongue, that's all it was. They won't mention it again.