Faye (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
said_scarlett) wrote2007-12-09 06:32 pm
said_scarlett) wrote2007-12-09 06:32 pm
Entry tags:
Advent fic #8, Speaking Between The Lines
Title: Speaking Between The Lines
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Severus/Remus
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1142
Written for:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
arionrhod!
Warnings: Minor angst?
Author's Note: takes place somewhere during the sixth book.
Summary: Remus was too tired and on edge to try and figure out what Severus was thinking. But he couldn't help but feel there was something he should be picking up on....
The small pantry was cramped, smelled vaguely of old potatoes, and was severely lacking in the light department. But Remus remained just within the doorway, out of the way and easily missed. He preferred it that way.
He was content enough, he supposed, with his mug of mulled cider and a half eaten pastry. He wasn’t one for parties as it was - though this was just a ‘gathering’, everyone was quick to say - and lately he hadn’t been in the mood for company at all.
But there he was. At least he was mostly being left alone. He’d made his rounds, said his hellos, chatted idly about relatively safe topics, and then retreated to the kitchen.
It was always the same. Strained smiles and knowing looks. Remus was sick to death of it. And always from women. What was it about women that drove them to meddle in the affairs of everyone around them? Or perhaps it was simply the matron Weasley’s influence.
Molly was more than a bit of a mother hen.
Thankfully, she was occupied elsewhere. And he could simply relax for a few moments, and not worry about women or meddling or anything else.
His relief at solitude was short lived. The kitchen door opened and Remus shrank back a bit in the doorway, hoping to be unnoticed.
“Hiding from that blasted girl, are you?”
“I’m not hiding. Good evening, Severus.” Remus nodded, stiffly. He wasn’t hiding. He was just…avoiding. It was his business, anyway, what he was doing. Not anyone else’s.
Severus only glowered, looking very much like the raven that had lit upon the bust of Pallace in that famous poem. Wet and irritated and made of shadows as he shook himself free of snow and melt in the entrance to the kitchen.
“Is there a reason why you’re staring at me, Lupin?”
“Sorry.” There was, but no reason Remus was going to admit out loud. He doubted Severus would care to be compared to much of anything, and certainly not some gothic bird from a muggle poem.
“I’d find another spot to hide.” Severus’ eyes were focused somewhere over Remus’ head, and he looked up.
Blast it all.
“It’s on every door, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Remus was standing directly under a sprig of mistletoe. Perhaps no one else would notice. Or he’d leave before… anyone in particular found him. And what he was under. And realized he couldn’t extricate himself easily.
“I’ll be leaving soon anyway. I’m surprised to see you here.” There was no point in standing in silence.
“I needed to speak with someone. I am not staying.”
“It’s rather hellish out there, isn’t it?” When all else failed, the weather was a generally safe topic. Severus just glared, and Remus shrugged and went back to his cider. Even in here, he could hear the wind. It was storm season.
“I would suggest you move,” Severus said again. “I believe you’re being searched for.” There was a strange, harsh note to the man’s voice. More so than usual. Remus cocked his head, watching. What had Severus’ ire up tonight? Or was he simply generally more sour than usual?
“I think I’m safe if you’re here,” he pointed out, gently.
“I have no desire to be your chaperone, Lupin.”
Another silence. Remus finished his cider. Severus was still standing in the kitchen, apparently doing nothing much at all. Most likely he was waiting for the inevitable, to make snide remarks.
“I think I’ll be going,” Remus said, finally. “I’m not feeling much of the Christmas spirit this year, I’m afraid.”
Severus made some small, gruff noise and looked away. Why was he still here?
“Though I suppose I’m in good company for it.”
“Lupin, you seem to have mistaken me for one of your friends. If you‘re leaving, leave.”
He hadn’t imagined it. Severus was in a more foul mood than usual. His tone, the narrowing of his eyes, even his body language. Had something happened? Or rather, had something happened that would be cause for alarm?
No. Severus would have said something. And he hadn’t seemed quite so prickly when he’d first walked in. Their conversation had been mild, touching on nothing but what Remus supposed were commonly discussed topics - the weather, the season, and his own rather problematic social life.
Why would any of those things bother the other man? Jealousy? No. Severus wasn’t the sort. Not to take it any more personally than usual. He seemed to have a general distaste for anything involving affection, regardless of who was involved.
Didn’t he?
Remus fetched his coat off of the back of a chair. Severus was watching him.
“Is…everything alright?” Remus was hesitant to ask, and yet….
Severus’ response was a snort and a darkening glare. That had been expected. Remus sighed and shook his head. He didn’t care. He wanted to be home, curled up on his little couch with a book and perhaps something a bit stronger than mulled cider.
“Well. Alright then. Have a happy holiday, Severus.”
“Are you certain you don’t need an escort home?” There was a cruel hint to Severus’ voice, mocking. Remus cleared his throat and shrugged on his coat.
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Which is why you’ve spent the last half an hour hiding in a pantry?”
“I wasn’t in the pantry, and I wasn’t hiding.” Just avoiding. A perfectly reasonable thing to do.
“I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to be brave. And here you are, slinking about like a lowly dog, frightened of an irritating slip of a girl….”
“That’s enough, Severus.” Remus turned to face the man, drawing himself up. “I’m not frightened of anything. And my personal life is my personal life - it’s none of your concern.”
“No.” Severus’ lips twitched in an angry frown, and his voice had turned to ice. “I suppose it isn’t.”
There was an awkward moment between them. Remus was certain Severus was going to say something more - there was an anticipatory feeling in the air. There was something going on, something Remus was too tired and worn out to decipher. He didn’t know what Severus was playing at, but he didn’t have the time for it.
“If there’s nothing more?”
Severus’ eyes flicked upwards, and Remus frowned as he realized the man was looking at the mistletoe above the pantry again. Was that all this was? Simple jealousy? That didn’t seem right.
Severus drew back, body angled from Remus as his angry frown became a full sneer, and he glared down at the shorter man with hard eyes. His tone was clipped and defensive, and Remus felt as though another conversation had been taking place between them, one he wasn’t even aware of.
Severus lifted his chin up, eyes narrowed. “No,“ he snapped, cold and derisive. “There was nothing to begin with.”
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Severus/Remus
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1142
Written for:
arionrhod!Warnings: Minor angst?
Author's Note: takes place somewhere during the sixth book.
Summary: Remus was too tired and on edge to try and figure out what Severus was thinking. But he couldn't help but feel there was something he should be picking up on....
The small pantry was cramped, smelled vaguely of old potatoes, and was severely lacking in the light department. But Remus remained just within the doorway, out of the way and easily missed. He preferred it that way.
He was content enough, he supposed, with his mug of mulled cider and a half eaten pastry. He wasn’t one for parties as it was - though this was just a ‘gathering’, everyone was quick to say - and lately he hadn’t been in the mood for company at all.
But there he was. At least he was mostly being left alone. He’d made his rounds, said his hellos, chatted idly about relatively safe topics, and then retreated to the kitchen.
It was always the same. Strained smiles and knowing looks. Remus was sick to death of it. And always from women. What was it about women that drove them to meddle in the affairs of everyone around them? Or perhaps it was simply the matron Weasley’s influence.
Molly was more than a bit of a mother hen.
Thankfully, she was occupied elsewhere. And he could simply relax for a few moments, and not worry about women or meddling or anything else.
His relief at solitude was short lived. The kitchen door opened and Remus shrank back a bit in the doorway, hoping to be unnoticed.
“Hiding from that blasted girl, are you?”
“I’m not hiding. Good evening, Severus.” Remus nodded, stiffly. He wasn’t hiding. He was just…avoiding. It was his business, anyway, what he was doing. Not anyone else’s.
Severus only glowered, looking very much like the raven that had lit upon the bust of Pallace in that famous poem. Wet and irritated and made of shadows as he shook himself free of snow and melt in the entrance to the kitchen.
“Is there a reason why you’re staring at me, Lupin?”
“Sorry.” There was, but no reason Remus was going to admit out loud. He doubted Severus would care to be compared to much of anything, and certainly not some gothic bird from a muggle poem.
“I’d find another spot to hide.” Severus’ eyes were focused somewhere over Remus’ head, and he looked up.
Blast it all.
“It’s on every door, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Remus was standing directly under a sprig of mistletoe. Perhaps no one else would notice. Or he’d leave before… anyone in particular found him. And what he was under. And realized he couldn’t extricate himself easily.
“I’ll be leaving soon anyway. I’m surprised to see you here.” There was no point in standing in silence.
“I needed to speak with someone. I am not staying.”
“It’s rather hellish out there, isn’t it?” When all else failed, the weather was a generally safe topic. Severus just glared, and Remus shrugged and went back to his cider. Even in here, he could hear the wind. It was storm season.
“I would suggest you move,” Severus said again. “I believe you’re being searched for.” There was a strange, harsh note to the man’s voice. More so than usual. Remus cocked his head, watching. What had Severus’ ire up tonight? Or was he simply generally more sour than usual?
“I think I’m safe if you’re here,” he pointed out, gently.
“I have no desire to be your chaperone, Lupin.”
Another silence. Remus finished his cider. Severus was still standing in the kitchen, apparently doing nothing much at all. Most likely he was waiting for the inevitable, to make snide remarks.
“I think I’ll be going,” Remus said, finally. “I’m not feeling much of the Christmas spirit this year, I’m afraid.”
Severus made some small, gruff noise and looked away. Why was he still here?
“Though I suppose I’m in good company for it.”
“Lupin, you seem to have mistaken me for one of your friends. If you‘re leaving, leave.”
He hadn’t imagined it. Severus was in a more foul mood than usual. His tone, the narrowing of his eyes, even his body language. Had something happened? Or rather, had something happened that would be cause for alarm?
No. Severus would have said something. And he hadn’t seemed quite so prickly when he’d first walked in. Their conversation had been mild, touching on nothing but what Remus supposed were commonly discussed topics - the weather, the season, and his own rather problematic social life.
Why would any of those things bother the other man? Jealousy? No. Severus wasn’t the sort. Not to take it any more personally than usual. He seemed to have a general distaste for anything involving affection, regardless of who was involved.
Didn’t he?
Remus fetched his coat off of the back of a chair. Severus was watching him.
“Is…everything alright?” Remus was hesitant to ask, and yet….
Severus’ response was a snort and a darkening glare. That had been expected. Remus sighed and shook his head. He didn’t care. He wanted to be home, curled up on his little couch with a book and perhaps something a bit stronger than mulled cider.
“Well. Alright then. Have a happy holiday, Severus.”
“Are you certain you don’t need an escort home?” There was a cruel hint to Severus’ voice, mocking. Remus cleared his throat and shrugged on his coat.
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Which is why you’ve spent the last half an hour hiding in a pantry?”
“I wasn’t in the pantry, and I wasn’t hiding.” Just avoiding. A perfectly reasonable thing to do.
“I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to be brave. And here you are, slinking about like a lowly dog, frightened of an irritating slip of a girl….”
“That’s enough, Severus.” Remus turned to face the man, drawing himself up. “I’m not frightened of anything. And my personal life is my personal life - it’s none of your concern.”
“No.” Severus’ lips twitched in an angry frown, and his voice had turned to ice. “I suppose it isn’t.”
There was an awkward moment between them. Remus was certain Severus was going to say something more - there was an anticipatory feeling in the air. There was something going on, something Remus was too tired and worn out to decipher. He didn’t know what Severus was playing at, but he didn’t have the time for it.
“If there’s nothing more?”
Severus’ eyes flicked upwards, and Remus frowned as he realized the man was looking at the mistletoe above the pantry again. Was that all this was? Simple jealousy? That didn’t seem right.
Severus drew back, body angled from Remus as his angry frown became a full sneer, and he glared down at the shorter man with hard eyes. His tone was clipped and defensive, and Remus felt as though another conversation had been taking place between them, one he wasn’t even aware of.
Severus lifted his chin up, eyes narrowed. “No,“ he snapped, cold and derisive. “There was nothing to begin with.”
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