rivendellrose | fic post

No matter how often I try to bring the story I was telling with "Pre-Dawn Etude" and "A Drop of Oil" to a pleasant conclusion, the result always turns out to be anything but. I think this one is actually worthwhile, though.

Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Snape/Lupin
Title: "The Sun in Your Eyes"
Summary: Sequel to Pre-Dawn Etude and A Drop of Oil. My own take on how Remus and Severus might have been involved during the period between leaving Hogwarts and the death of the Potters, how their relationship might have ended, and the aftermath of that ending. Angsty (sorry), and a warning for discussed homosexual relationship. Nothing graphic or at all porn-y.

I don't own the characters, they belong to JK Rowling. If I did, you can bet I'd have better uses for them than writing angsty vignettes. I'm not making money at this. If I were, you can bet I'd be less worried about finding a second job. ;)

In the sun of that summer, even the blackest eyes - eyes Remus had always thought could absorb all the light in the world without a flicker of change - had shown an inner depth he'd never expected. So many times he caught himself staring, fascinated by the sparks and shadows of rich brown shining in the deepest parts of those eyes. Dark brown like rich earth, like the best dark chocolate, like tea steeped too long and drunk with a shudder, but color nonetheless. It was a color he came to love.

A bit like the wolf even in his human form, Remus lived in the moment, rarely worrying about how long a given blessing would stay at his side. In the summer days they walked together through Diagon Alley and, with nudging and a bit of ribbing to make his lupine side rise to the competition, Knockturn Alley as well. The best days were passed in Muggle London, where the passing throngs rarely bothered to look twice at a pair of poor young men walking close together. They never held hands in public, but their wrists brushed together sometimes as they walked, and Remus luxuriated in the scent and warmth of his lover walking beside him. And when humid days gave way to the balmy summer nights, they returnd to a tiny, shabby one-room flat high in the cheapest boarding house, a dinner that was all too often only baked beans on toast, and a hard, second-hand futon. It was by no means a life of luxury, and both boys griped about it whenever in particularly bad moods, but it was the best they could afford on Remus' ever-tenuous salaries and Severus' spotty income from potions work. Remus remembered a cousin of his mother's who'd been fond of nattering on about the romance of the young and in love, too innocent to worry about adult problems, and he smiled a bit bitterly as he wondered if this was what she meant. Once the flickering lights were put out, though, there were definitely things he liked about this life, and the streetlamps caught in Severus' eyes, creating amber flickers that mimicked the sunlight and the color of Remus' own eyes.

As the season turned, and the heavy heat of August tempered into September's brisk nights, he anticipated another year at Severus' side, warming the winter nights with their bodies curled together under piles of ragged old blankets, and their own robes if it got as cold as it had the last year. And then, abruptly, it was snapped from his fingers with a single glance, an impassive glare, and a rictus-grinning tattoo already known as the face of death to their generation. Before he knew what had happened, Remus found himself back on his parents' porch, ignoring questions as he dragged his rucksack into his old room, head hung low and praying he could close the door behind him before the tears overwhelmed him. Knowing that he'd have to explain the next morning, to sympathetic faces and soft murmurs of encouragement. Knowing that he'd already lost Sirius' trust, and that if he came back he'd find only recriminations and "I told you so"'s for his trouble, sadly shaking their heads at Moony's stupidity, believing that a Slytherin, that Slytherin, that Snivellus of all people could love and be loyal and honest. That he could be worth loving.

It was worth it. Remus tore the worn but well-mended quilt back from a homey old mattress, and threw himself on his old bed. He glared up at the ceiling, then rolled over so he wouldn't have to look at an old Quidditch poster he'd bought when he was only twelve, signed by the Gryffindor team with his friends' youthful scrawls easily recognized among the signatures.

It was all worth it. Tomorrow there would be tea already brewing for him - good middle-class tea, not the cheapest stuff available, and he wouldn't have to use the tea-bag twice, trying to squeeze out the last bits of flavour for his money - and toast with real butter, and probably some of the bacon or sausages his mother had often made the morning after a full moon, trying to lure back his strength and appetite together. And tonight there would be no drunks caroling down the street at two in the morning, no screaming matches from the flat next door that never fazed Severus, because Remus suspected they were nothing compared to what his own parents had gotten up to while he lived with them. There would also be no Severus, curled up warm against his back, no arm draped possessively over his stomach. No good-natured bickering over who would have the first turn in the sputtering shower, or teasingly slipping under the guttering water with Severus, while he griped about how Remus was trying to make him late for work. No kiss goodbye. No kiss hello at the end of the day, or shared gossip and complaints sitting on the futon while supper heated on the tiny stove. No Severus, probably not ever again, and for the first time Remus almost wished he could be the wolf, could take refuge in the beast's concern only with the moment, heedless of the painful future or the now-stained past.

Then again, from the sobs raking their way out of Remus' chest, he had a feeling the wolf would be no less inconsolable. Muffled sobs, at least, drew less attention than a wolf's full-throated howls, singing to the moon of fury and agony.

It was all worth it. The sun in his eyes made even the lies worth believing.

Remus curled around his pillow and cried himself to sleep, trying not to wonder whether tears were reflecting the amber light of streetlamps into Severus' black eyes.