Turns out that meme I took was good for something, it got at least one WIP of about a bazillion finished! It contains the barest hint of Snupin and is heavily angsty ::tear:: Comments are of course most appreciated and lusted after! Thanks to aurora_enkeli for the quick beta!
Like The Deserts Miss The Rain
- - -
Pairing(s): Hinting at Remus Lupin/Severus Snape.
Inspiration: This fic was heavily influenced by the song ‘Missing’ by Everything But The Girl.
- - -
It was the same every year. He couldn’t help himself, stop himself, keep himself from stepping off the train, from walking down that same street, past that weather-beaten door, hoping, praying that maybe- just maybe- you’d still be there, still living there, still waiting there for him. But you don’t live there anymore. It’s years since you’ve been there, since you disappeared, like nothingness into existence. Spinner’s End is nothing more than a squatter’s paradise, a home to the hobos of the world- until the curses you’ve left behind get them.
He hopes you’ve found some better place, because he misses you, misses you like the deserts miss the rain. Could you be dead? He doubts it, prays it isn’t true; you were always two steps ahead of everyone. Too smart for your own good. We’d walk behind while you would run.
Remus looks up at the house, wiping rain-dampened hair from his forehead with a swipe of his hand, eyes closing with inner pain, your voice echoing in his ears. He can almost hear you calling down to him… where he always used to be. His eyes open, windows to his tortured soul- anguish and sorrow there for all to see, because he misses you, he can’t let you go, misses you like the deserts miss the rain.
It was the same every year. He could barely help himself, barely stop himself, barely keep himself from staying just that moment longer, that split second more, incase- just incase- you were actually there, just waiting, waiting to appear, to open that door and welcome him in with open arms, but you couldn’t, and you wouldn’t, because he’d already turned away, shoulders straightening as he makes his way back. Back to the train, that train that will take him away. Away for one more year, one long and unbearable year of waiting, of resisting the urge to return, one day… one week… one month earlier than he usually does.
And he asks himself, cries bitter tears in the dark of the night- why? Why did he go again? Why does he always go? To confess that he’s been hanging around your old address, praying, hoping that you are waiting for him? But the years have proved to offer nothing, you’ve moved- away and on with your life, whatever life you have left to live- traitor to both sides, saviour to one. You’re long gone, he secretly knows, but he can’t move one. Doesn’t dare, cannot bear to. Because he misses you, misses you so badly it hurts, a sour taste left in the mouth when all he wants is another taste of you- flesh and blood and sweat. And oh how he misses you; misses you- like the deserts miss the rain. And like the deserts he will dry up, and wither away, without you here to sustain him.
He only needs you. Only wants you. His thoughts are only of you as he steps off the train, another year gone by. He’s walking down your street again and past your door. But you don’t live there anymore. It’s years since you’ve been there, but now you’ve disappeared somewhere, you’ve found a better place.
And I miss you.
Like the deserts miss the rain, I miss you.
- - -
- - -