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The fall leaves crunch beneath Remus’ feet, each step carrying him closer to his destination and the place that has become his home and where he feels safe. Severus barely tolerates him, but the man hates most people and has since they were at Hogwarts. Sometimes Remus wonders if he’s partly to blame for that. If he and Mauraders are the reason Slytherin keeps the others at a distance, fearing what they might do to him. Were their childish actions what had taught him that if all other people in the world hated him? And because of that, the best thing he could do for himself was hate the rest of the world just as much.
They had been children, but they were children who should have known better.
Maybe that’s why Remus does it; he lives here among the trees with the other man. Trying desperately to love someone who has no such interest in returning it, yet they are something between enemies, lovers, and friends. He does not try to put it into words because none suit the situation. They are all of them at once. They are forgotten things in this new wizarding world. Forgotten and left behind in the world that Harry and the rest of his generation are creating–one that is so different from the one before it. This new version of Wizarding Britain has no place for the killer of Albus Dumbledore or a Werewolf. He’s ashamed that he left his son behind. It wasn’t because he did not love him but because he could not handle the heartbreak of having Teddy taken from him, knowing that even this new version of the ministry would not let a werewolf raise a child. It might make him a coward to run away instead of fighting for the boy, but Andromeda raised one wonderful person already, and she will ensure Teddy ends up the same.
The grandmother and her charge visit Canada every summer for two weeks. They laugh and play in the woods with Remus, finding joy in the little things. Remus is like an uncle to his own son. He is someone who Teddy loves dearly, yet he barely knows. He is someone Teddy treasures and is happy to spend time with, though the boy who has already lost so much doesn’t ask for more than he has.
His son is growing like a weed without him there. Remus knows it’s for the best, even if it hurts. His pain is a price for his son to be truly happy. To not be treated like a monster because of who his father and the fact man is seen as a monster.
Tonks would smack him upset the head if she was still alive for abandoning their son. She would hiss like a great beast and call him the biggest fool in Britain, just like she had the last time he ran away from his responsibility. He is no better than a dog who’d been kicked, cowering and hiding from nearly everything he’s ever known. But Tonks is dead, and it’s his fault that’s the case. No one says it, yet Remus is as sure of it as anything he ever has been.
He continues towards the cabin, the grocery paper bags from the Riviere-Rouge store tucked under an arm.
Severus understands him; he knows what it feels like to have the shame of regret from a past they cannot escape. The other man has his own secrets that leave him soaked with sweat as he shivers under sheets and blankets. Sometimes together and something alone. They do not cuddle the way Remus and Tonks used to, they do not whisper words of love and devotion, yet they are there for each other in their own way. In a way that suited them both and the life they have made together.
Remus reaches the door, trying to figure out how to open it without setting the bags down. It opens and Severus snatches some of the bags from him. Neither of them speaks as they put them away. Not because there is frustration between the two but because there is no need to talk. No need to ramble at each other about feelings or emotions. Silence suits them just as they suit each other.
Severus’ hair hangs in gentle waves down his back, falling like a black river. He’s beautiful, standing there in wizarding robes as if he’s going somewhere, though he never leaves these woods and hasn’t seen anyone besides Remus in seven years.
“Come here,” Severus mutters, hooking a thumb into Remus’ jeans. “Come here, and I’ll give you what you need.”
Remus does what he asks, falling to his knees and putting his mouth on Severus’ cock, sucking the tip harshly. There is no kindness in this, but neither wants nor needs that, and Remus surely does not deserve that. Severus’ boney fingers tug at Remus’ hair, pulling him as he wants his lover.
The sun-bleached wood floors are rough against Remus’ knees as they do this. He gives in, allowing Severus to do what he pleases, finding comfort in being used this way.
“You’re doing such a good job, even if you’re a bastard, my bloody bastard.”
Remus doesn’t comment, though he feels a thrilling twist inside his heart at the words. His cock hardens even as he has to ignore it; because it’s not his to touch. They go on like that, the two of them doing this version of dancing like they always do in the sunshine streaming through the small cracked window.
The two of them belong together just as they always have.
Remus can feel it. His lover is close; Severus’ hisses and twitching thighs give it away. A part of him wants to toy with his lover, to edge him like he sometimes does, but Severus looks down at him, his face tight, and his dark eyes are warm as he cries out, coming down Remus’ throat.
He’s never liked the taste of it, never understanding why some claim it’s good, but he swallows it down because he knows that Severus likes when he does. A part of Remus wants to spend the rest of his life making Severus Tobias Snape happy if the other man allows him to.
Severus stands on shaky legs, looking both unkempt and put together all at the same time. His robes are unbuttoned, his hair sticks to his sweaty forehead, yet the rest of his buttons are done up, his white collar sticking up and starched. He falls to his knees next to Remus, slipping to the floor and pulls Remus into his arms. The two of them sit there in silence, nothing but the sounds of their hearts beating and the quiet humming of the icebox.
It’s the only modern item in their home, the only thing that Severus that they had to have. Having food rot on their counters was something neither of them wanted, was it? The rest of the cabin belongs in the past and time long since forgotten, just like them. There is a wood stove where a cauldron boils on top of it, wool blankets on the bed, and a stack of logs. A husky in the corner sleeping on her bed, Aurora, and is the only thing Remus insisted on.
Her fur is a cool grey with white markings, just like their souls.
Together they are a beautiful mess struggling to survive.
“I love you, git,” Remus says, cuddling into Severus’ arms, hoping the other man does not mind.
Severus pulls him closer kissing his forehead, “And I you.”