Ever and Always
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Pairing(s): Severus Snape/ Remus Lupin.
Warning(s): Angst; M-Preg; Mentions of Character Death/Death.
Word Count: 1881.
A/N: Written for the_senjou- for the BR!Crew Secret Santa [Happy BR!Christmas!]- who wanted fluffy Snupin with a possible side serving of M-Preg. The good news is that you’ve got your Snupin and side serving of M-Preg. As for the fluff? ::cough:: I’m sorry, I did try in my first attempt of this, but honestly- I just can’t write it! Forgive me? ::snuggles::
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The snow falls gently, coating the ground like icing sugar upon a cake. Layers of bittersweet beauty spread out before him as he stands, wrapped up warm and safe from the cold. Lost in a moment of remembering and reminiscing on times long gone past. His cheeks are cold, wind stung and chilled; his toes have gone numb and he cannot feel the tips of his fingers or his nose. It matters not to him as he stands- a lone figure in the snow, staring out across the world spread before him with only his memories to keep him warm and safe and longing for times long gone and lost to him, always lost to him.
Light is fast to fade, pale sun-seared streaks across the sky, blinding colour painted over an ever-changing canvas marred only with the dark blotches of snowy storm clouds. Then night is upon him, quick as a gasp of breath and blink of the eye, everything is wreathed in darkness. White-flaked snow steadily falling, building up hope of a white Christmas he has no want of. The story of his life is somehow written in the moment, he knows. Closing tired eyes he must resist the want to stand and stare and freeze himself death, to a cold and un-mourned grave.
He turns, long strides carrying him on familiarly trodden paths, walking through the pages of the past and times of carefree and bubbling excitement. Such feelings so foreign to him, he had once been afraid of them, if not for the secret smile and tender touch given to reassure him in his moments of hesitation- love would always have been an ignorant scorn upon his lips. But to have loved, and lost, such pains he would give anything to remove if not for the fear of removing the love itself.
His breath is condensation crystallised, a sigh upon the wind, so heartfelt and heavy he cannot help but fight the tears that prickle the corners of his eyes. He will not cry. So many tears have yet been shed, raindrops of grief to stain his pale face- they did not do him any good, could not bring him back. Bring them back.
Face aglow, alight with secret pleasure as he dances about the room- all golden-eye-haired and slender slip of a frame, he laughs, the sound so rich and pure it makes his mouth water with the want to drink of the elixir that is his lover, his Remus.
‘Come, Severus,’ Remus whispers, a hooded look to his eyes, all sultry and pouting he pauses, waits, watching as Severus pretends to ignore him, penning his letters and grading his essays, a delicious flush creeping over pale cheeks under the werewolf’s scrutiny. Remus grins, all predatory, fire in his eyes- he stalks, sure footed and determined, corners his prey, his Severus- ink-filled quill slipping from slackened fingers as Remus pushes his chair back and slips onto his knee.
‘Severus,’ the pout is back, innocent and wanting, fluttering lashes and taunting as he takes in blush-alluring cheeks and gasp-parted lips. ‘Oh, Severus,’ the sigh slipping from his mouth, soft and feign-heavy before that smile, that secret smile of his- meant only for him- creeps across his face, turning his lips upwards, heavenwards and heaven sent.
Severus’ arms slip about his waist, fingers splayed across the dip of his lower back as Remus presses their fronts together, the slip of a belly hard against his own flat, he smiles his own smile in return, small but real and genuine and so happy, so very happy.
‘Remus,’ he leans his mouth forward and purrs his lover’s name, a velvety caress into his ear, hot breath a tickle, an alluring incentive to hear that wanton whimper in return. His teeth nip playfully at the long arch of a neck, quick-fingers slipping beneath the soft fabric of Remus’ shirt, cool fingers on flesh-warm skin- a shiver, a laugh, back arched backwards, fingers holding tight to his shoulders as he exposes his stomach, the new bloom of a bulge- life, growing within.
He touches, hand slipping round to cup over Remus’ belly, feeling the soft-hard swell of flesh. He bites his lip, concentration creasing his brow- awe and wonder shining upon his face as Remus leans forward- eyes meeting, intense- he shivers, wants- a kiss. Hard lips turn soft and pliant against his mouth, parting easily, licentiously.
The taste of his mouth is a pleasure in itself, hot and warmed of chocolate and sweet just so- his tongue a tease, a lap, a timid touch of slick wetness- a moan, a groan, a whimper of need of please, of ‘Please, Severus, oh please!’ He rocks forward, pressing what he can of his body against Severus’ own…
He shudders a shiver as he steps inside, the howl of the wind through the cracks in grey-stone walls calls to him, alluring and teasing as it beckons him to venture once more outside- to loose himself in the chilly tendrils of its mercy, soft snow to cushion his freezing body, to pillow his sleepy head, to whisk all his worries and pain away with cold kisses against his tear-stained cheeks.
Wrapping empty arms about his slight frame, he walks, footsteps loud and ominous as he steps into the dungeons, his breath misting before him. Somehow it feels colder inside than it did out, out with the wind and the snow- night falling, another night, spent alone- wrapped up in cold sheets and bittersweet memories. He dreads another night of trying not to cry himself to sleep, lying awake- dead hours ticking by with the echo of time.
‘Severus…’ Remus’ eyes are unsure, hesitant, he bites his lip in a way so uncharacteristically shy that Severus is immediately alert, his eyes sharp and heart braced for whatever Remus is about to say. He watches- wary eyes, a twist of fear- as Remus perches upon the edge of the bed, their bed-, hands folded in his lap- still, moving, twisting, clenched.
‘Severus, I have something to tell you.” He nods his head, waves his hand for Remus to continue, tries to keep himself calm- be still my beating heart!- deep breaths through his nose he waits, poised, on edge. Remus looks up at him, eyes wide and pleading, fearful even and Severus fears too, fears what that look means for if it is rejection his lover has in mind, then why the look of pain and trepidation in his eyes?
Despite himself, or perhaps in-spite, he slips forward, moves over and with false bravado wraps his arms about Remus’ body, rests his head atop his lover’s and whispers sweet nothings and everything’s into his ear. ‘ It’s okay, you can tell me, Remus- you may tell me anything.’
Remus is shaking in his embrace, hands clenching into the fabric of his shirt now as he whispers, as he tells, spills forth the words that have Severus jerking away from him, holding him at arms length, scrutinising him in a way that makes Remus feel both intimidated and angry.
And then the smile, ‘Pregnant?’ Severus breathes the word, hardly daring to say it aloud. Remus is still in the stillness of the room, a moment poised, a stop in time before he nods- softly, slowly, eyes watching for any refutation. Severus’ cannot help but smile wider, an expression fairly new to him becomes so very easy at the news. Pregnant? He’s never imagined himself a father, but somehow, this is exactly what he wants to be- with Remus, always with Remus.
Remus’ cry is one of shock as Severus grabs him into his arms, laughter and warmth spilling from his lips and his hold as he laughs, oh he laughs!- and Remus laughs too and they are smiling and laughing and happy!- so very, very happy, and then moaning and kissing and Severus’ hands are all over him, touching-teasing-tracing every bump and curve. He lift’s Remus’ shirt with reverence, hands timidly reaching out to brush over the slight bulge of stomach. It hadn’t been anything more than a stomach to him before, but now… now knowing what was within, what was growing within, it seemed magical, beautiful, a miracle!
He presses a kiss to the flesh just below Remus’ navel, touching at the warm skin of his stomach a moment before looking up to meet Remus’ eyes.
‘I love you,’ he whispers, never meaning the words as much as he does now…
He sits in cold rooms with a cold glass of liquor in his hand, staring into the empty ash-laden hearth, no fire lit to warm his rooms, to sear his skin with heat, nothing alive can melt the chill around his heart- head caught up in memories of the recent past too much to live in the present.
It is the life of a zombie he lives, waking and walking, living a life of routine and habit- eating and sleeping as patterns dictate, the monotone broken only by the familiar scent of his aftershave hovering in what had been his side of the cupboard; a familiarly spoken phrase echoing along the corridors in his voice; the feeling of being watched by him when in fact there was no one left to watch him at all.
‘Severus!’ Remus’ eyes are panicked as he lies, propped up on pillows white, face blending into starched cotton, the stink of fear and pain heavy in the air- Severus grips his hand all the more tightly, knuckles whitening at the strength, the dread- oh no, no, please no!
There is hustle and bustle about them, screams and cries from Mediwitch to Mediwizard to Mediwitch, but it is all a roaring to their ears of blood pounding and rushing and bubbling up from wounds they can’t control, but always- through it all- their eyes are joined- forever and always, always and ever, time gave both darkness and dreams to you…
‘Remus!’ Severus cries, unable to mask his emotions as his lover’s eyes darken, grip slackening and head rolling away. ‘Remus!’ he grabs at unresponsive shoulders, shakes the dead-weight corpse of a body. ‘No, Remus! Remus!’
There is only silence to greet him as he turns to stare at head-bowed medics.
‘Do something!’ He wants to shout, hands clenched-unclenched as his eyes land- horror of horrors- upon the tightly wrapped bundle in some Mediwitch’s arms. But it is not meant to be, fate a cruel mistress as locks are shaken and a sob is given- the joy of life lost, all hopes and dreams dashed upon the jagged rocks of swift death. He has lost, not one love but two, old life and new. The roaring in his ears is the last thing he hears before cold, disinfectant-smelling floor’s rush up to meet him.
The roaring in his ears is the last he hears- he thinks to hear- as slender-stem of a glass slips from his fingers to crash upon the floor, chin tipped forward to rest upon his sleep rising-falling chest, breath visible before him still; no escape from the bitterness of winters chill. And behind him, a shiver, a shade, a memory of a golden-eye-haired lover waits, waits, in silent waiting for him to turn around- never turn around. He waits.
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