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The owl will be waiting outside Remus' bedroom window from just around 1 am in the night on the 11th of march, until it is spotted and let in. It will of course peck on the glass to make its presence known.
Birthday owl (but it's a bit cranky. It's Severus' after all) )
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Severus has not had much time to think since the new year started. Or even since before Christmas. More memories have joined the few extremely personal ones in the pensieve, while he has been in the presence of his one remaining master. Memories he should consider... events that have changed things, turned so much upside down.

Now, as he sits down with a soft sigh, finally home again - if it can be called home in any way - he knows he will have to put those memories back. The stone basin, standing so innocently on a shelf, a silvery cloth covering the top half of it, beckons him.

Severus rises from the chair and walks over to the pensieve. The cloth is smooth and heavy, sliding off the basin with a small rustle. For a moment he merely looks at the liquid swirling lazily around, the silver of memories glowing subtly.

A small practised wave of his wand is enough, the long string easy to extract ... and re-implant, in his mind. In a flash, the memory plays before his inner eye, disturbing, upsetting, alluring, arousing... Remus and Kirill. Severus blinks out of it and replaces the cloth over the basin.

Sitting back down in his chair, it surprises him how utterly clear that memory is, defying the normal haze usually attached to drunken recollections.

Were you truly drunk, or were you decieving yourself?

It also startles him, how much it emphasises much of what has changed in his life this past year. How much he's thought he's remained the same, all the while changing far more than he can comprehend.

And it's all centered around Remus.

Albus too, to a certain degree, forcing Severus into the role as the hunted, the traitor, the murderer... A situation that in turn has forced him out of the small comfortable box that had been his life. Had torn that small box to pieces, and left him floundering with only two fixed points in his life.

Remus and the mission.

And while time passes without change to the mission, without development... everything concerning Remus has shifted. Grown intenser and deeper, a love he no longer tries to question, a passion he needs, a man he no longer can be without.

A possessive jealousy, that is still strong but has somehow morphed into something he can't understand, no matter how deep inside himself he looks.

He needs to speak with Remus about this. And Kirill... Needs to understand what has happened.

Wordcount: 403
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Venice...

Severus should have left by now, having completed his task. But he couldn't stop looking into the fog rolling in through the canals from the bay, swallowing up the small boats, the houses and the low bridges, already now swirling around his ankles. It moved fast, unstoppable and chilling, not only in its physical temperature, but also in the eerie muffled silence it created around him, and the lack of clear vision.

Wishful thinking. )

Muse: Severus Snape
Fandom: Harry Potter
Wordcount: 357
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Severus was working his way through the Potions Journals, making note of Belby's associates, co-writers and co-researchers. He tried not to think about what he had said to Remus. That he wouldn't be able to keep fixed schedules. That Remus shouldn't suffer under that fact. That Remus shouldn't be alone. )
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Severus is reading, as Fran swoops into his office, flies over his head - missing it by only a hair's breadth - and lands on his desk.

SPOILER WARNING FOR HBP!!! )
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The pain in his arm wouldn't ease off. He knew it would soon since the meeting was over, but the knowledge didn't make it any easier. It never did.

This is nothing compared to Remus' pain. He reminded himself, finally knowing that pain after observing it and ... almost feeling it, watching Remus writhe and scream with it that night and the morning after.

But this was his pain, and pain was a subjective matter. In this case even more so, as it symbolised more than a simple physical discomfort. And this was not something he could share with anybody else. It was not a visible transformation or disfiguration that would lend understanding to others, a way for others to visualise what it might be like.

This was just black lines on pale skin, almost seeming innocuous to those who didn't know the deeper implications of the symbol or the magic bound within it. The life bound within it. And death...

With a soft disgusted snort he rose from his chair and moved into the lab. Working would take his mind off the deep feeling of loneliness that suddenly befell him. That always came to him when the mark burned and cut into him, pointing out just how alone he was, standing in the middle between two fronts.

Remus would understand. But Remus didn't need to see him in this state. Nobody did.

"Pity is for the weak, Severus. You are not weak." he berated himself as he looked at the list of potions Madam Pomfrey needed. He had no time for such foolishness. The pain would fade

WC: 268
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Severus had spent the prior night staring at ... the moon. It was full and the effect had been obvious - to him at least - in Remus, when he had come for the potion the day before.

He was still not sure this was a good idea. He knew himself well enough to know that he needed to do this, if he even contemplated going any further with ... whatever was between Remus and him.

Just the mere fact that he used the name, Remus and not Lupin, in his mind now was indicator enough for him that there was more than just a simple base physical attraction.

The ease with how the shift in his mind had occured also indicated there had been more for longer than he realised. Or was ready to realise. )
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Snape was for once relaxing slightly before his mind would be taxed not only with the presence of Potter, but also the task of actually trying to teach the brat something.

He wondered if Lupin would arrive before or would meet the boy first and then they'd come here together. Not that he had anything particular to speak with him about. He simply wondered.

His night had been busy. Several herbs and roots were at their most potent strength on Beltane night and he had spent a couple of hours trekking through the Dark Forests to find them. Afterwards he had joined a small fire celebration in Hogsmeade, but had left before the people had turned too rowdy.

He had spent most of the day on storing his nightly acquisitions securely, prepared what he could for next week, hovered a bit over the Wolfsbane potion although it looked fine and had then finally removed a few memories from his mind and put them in the pensieve.

That Pensieve was now stored very securely in a locked cabinet in his bedroom. He might put a small bit of trust into Potter not repeating the mistake, but better safe than sorry.

Watching the flames dance lightly, Snape could only wait for Lupin and Potter.
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After an unexpectedly but still frustratingly futile discussion with Dumbledore, Severus found himself with an armful of documents and maps, meant for Lupin.

The simple fact that he was going to Diagon Alley to stock up on some of the rarer items in his stock should not be reason enough for Dumbledore to simply assume it would be no bother at all to make a small detour to Grimmauld Place, and hand these files over to Lupin for further examination.

He wasn't a bloody messenger boy.

Dumbledore merely looked over the rim of his glasses at that remark and told Severus to please give his warmest regards to Lupin, accompanied with one of those obnoxiously knowing looks. He was sure the old wizard knew somehow, about Lupin's small visit and the almost polite conversation they'd had. And true to form, Dumbledore would most probably mistake it for something it wasn't. Old fool.

With a snort he left the headmasters office and shrunk the files on his way down the stairs. An owl would have been sufficient, but no... it had to be him. As if he had so much time, he could waste it on dallying about like this.

After making his purchases at Slug and Jiggers, he apparated directly to Grimmauld Place, taking a moment to look at the foreboding structure before he went to the door to knock. He could have flooed, but he really didn't enjoy travelling in such a manner. Now he could only wait and see if Lupin was there at all.
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