[Fiction] His Quarters
His Quarters
Author: fallen-angel-of-repression
Series: Harry Potter
Pairing: Severus/Remus
Genre: Romance/Angst
Word Count: 100 x 4
Progress: Complete.
Notes: M. Non-AU. For the following:
snape100 (challenge: 302- Snape's Private Quarters); lupin100 (challenge: 264- ghost) 52_flavours (prompt: 3- Let me go to the window, / Watch there the day-shapes of dusk / And wait and know the coming / Of a little love)
Summary: To keep his tentative attention.
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The rooms were small for the dormitory of a Professor and each minuscule space was used: aged tomes lined the walls; spirals of parchment sat in bundles on racks throughout; and cabinets upon cabinets of mysterious ingredients (both rare and mundane) created maze-like contraptions that I had long memorized the paths to. He said he liked the hobble-quality of his chambers.
I used to tease him about it, but stopped when I noticed he grew even more distant in his touches-kisses-thrusts. I was not to make fun of him. Not now. Not if I wanted to keep his tentative attention.
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We fucked on the desk-the centerpiece of his chambers-only once. I entered and was not greeted with the usual snarl more fitting for a werewolf like myself, rather than a pale Potions Professor like him. I reached out and touched the nape of his neck. There was no response. I moved his hair to the side and kissed the very edge of his hairline: yet, no response. I worked him over in that fashion-down on my knees in front of his, mouth ringing his swollen cock-until he finally ripped me to my feet and took me right against that desk.
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The bed was stiff; he had a weak back, and to sleep on anything softer than a wooden slab bothered him. He nearly cursed me when I transfigured a small section of the mattress to a feathery mass: it was his bed, and no one was to mess with his things. Not I; not anyone. He was possessive, I knew this when we began our trysts. Once, and only once, had he allowed me to move this to my quarters; and that was only because that month's transformation had been especially hard on me. Only then had he allowed concession.
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The alcove was claustrophobic, even if it was just I occupying its space-but it always comforted him, so perhaps it could comfort me too. He was out doing Merlin knows what for the Order.
Would he get himself hurt this time? Tortured into insanity? Forced to confess?
Killed?
To distract myself from my morbidity, I sat quietly-dismissively-staring out to the distant shades of hills. Rolling train tracks and trees sprinkled here and there laid somewhere out there, but the oncoming dusk shrouded them from me. It frustrated me to know what was there but not be able to see it.