Reading the owl, Severus understands Remus' lack of trust. It reflects very much, what he thinks the man knows about him.
He feels he needs more time. More time to compose himself, to get past the pain inside him, the grief. But in waiting, he will in turn hurt Remus.
It will not take much effort to follow the request of not drinking nor eating. He has no wish for neither at the moment and has not touched food since that fated night. He should, he knows, his magical strength waning as the energy in his system is slowly depleted. But he also knows it would taste like ashes in his mouth.
He doesn't hesitate after not drinking anything for eight hours. First he removes the glamour, then apparates to the West coast of Ireland. He stands for a few moments, staring out on the ocean towards West, numb to the brisk breeze on his face, to the brilliant summer colours around him, to the sun moving past zenith, to the warmth generated by the sunlight against his black jacket and trousers... just numb.
Even if Remus loves him, he might decide not to accept the truth. Or he might not be able to stay in Severus' company, the company of Albus' murderer. And he will not hope for anything else. It will be as it will be.
With that thought, he apparates to Remus' flat in New York, reappearing with a sharp crack just inside the door. He puts his new wand away and simply stands, waiting for Remus. His features are gaunt, paler than usual - if possible - and drawn, shadows under his eyes proof of the sleep he has not had.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2005-07-30 09:37 am (UTC)He feels he needs more time. More time to compose himself, to get past the pain inside him, the grief. But in waiting, he will in turn hurt Remus.
It will not take much effort to follow the request of not drinking nor eating. He has no wish for neither at the moment and has not touched food since that fated night. He should, he knows, his magical strength waning as the energy in his system is slowly depleted. But he also knows it would taste like ashes in his mouth.
He doesn't hesitate after not drinking anything for eight hours. First he removes the glamour, then apparates to the West coast of Ireland. He stands for a few moments, staring out on the ocean towards West, numb to the brisk breeze on his face, to the brilliant summer colours around him, to the sun moving past zenith, to the warmth generated by the sunlight against his black jacket and trousers... just numb.
Even if Remus loves him, he might decide not to accept the truth. Or he might not be able to stay in Severus' company, the company of Albus' murderer. And he will not hope for anything else. It will be as it will be.
With that thought, he apparates to Remus' flat in New York, reappearing with a sharp crack just inside the door. He puts his new wand away and simply stands, waiting for Remus. His features are gaunt, paler than usual - if possible - and drawn, shadows under his eyes proof of the sleep he has not had.