(no subject)
Title: Ghost Dancing
Author: vegetaztwin
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 630
Summary: Severus remembers Regulus.
Pairing: Severus/Regulus
Severus could remember what Regulus looked like when he was so drunk that he could barely talk. He remembered how Regulus would tug at his hands, trying to get him to stand up with him, half holding on to him to keep himself from falling. His fingernails would be painted black and would be chipped already, not that Regulus would care. His black hair was always a mess, but more so when he was drunk. He would smile, crookedly, pressing his cheek up against Severus’, whispering to him about nothing and everything.
And then, he would pull away when Severus would resist him, remaining where he was seated, doing whatever he was doing, working on a new potion, reading up on some obsolete subject, always completely sober.
Regulus would spin around the room, dancing with himself and laughing and giggling the entire time. Black hair would whip into his face, until he was so blind and dizzy that he would fall down to the ground, knees crashing next to Severus. He would place his head lovingly in Severus’ lap, smiling as though everything was perfect for him in that moment; complete his whirling motions that he called a dance, even if he always danced by himself.
Severus would absentmindedly run his fingers through Regulus’ locks, scolding him for getting so drunk, because they both knew he was going to be so sick tomorrow that he wouldn’t get out of bed.
Regulus wouldn’t answer, just smile, the right side of his mouth always
crooking up slightly above his left. He would run his hot, sweaty hands up
undearneath the black shirt that Severus was wearing, moving it aside and kissing
his lover’s pale skin lightly.
Severus would look down at him amused, making some dirty comment about
what a whore Regulus was, and would push away for the moment, returning to make
some final note in his work for the evening or to place his bookmark safely tucked
away in the yellowing pages of a dusty volume, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to
get anything else done for that evening.
Regulus would be sprawled across the floor then, staring up at the ceiling
with his dazed black eyes, arms spread wide as though he thought he were flying,
but was never moving across the floor.
The movements after that would be hurried and needy, kissing and fingers
fumbling with the clasps and buttons of the articles of clothing, mostly coming
from Regulus’ part, since he always wore a baggy t-shirt that went down to his
knees when he got drunk at home.
They would stay up half the night, loving and touching until Regulus would
finally just fall asleep, still sprawled underneath Severus. He would chew on his
hair and mumble in his sleep, kicking wildly, but still smiling the entire time.
Severus remembered all this as he stared at the picture that had somehow
made its way into his hands. It had been hidden in the back of one of his Potions
book, taken so many years ago when Regulus was still sleeping in bed, body only
half hidden by the black comforter that had adorned their bed.
Severus had nearly fallen down out of shock. It had been almost thirty
years since Regulus’ death. With the second war still raging onwards with no
sight of any victory, the reminder of his lover brought a rather rising
sentimental side upwards to make him think of what had been, undoubtedly, the best
time of his life.
It had been perfect, those nights when Regulus was so drunk that he could
barely say Severus’ name.
There was just one thing that Severus always regretted when he looked back
at that set of memories; he had never managed to dance with Regulus.
Author: vegetaztwin
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 630
Summary: Severus remembers Regulus.
Pairing: Severus/Regulus
Severus could remember what Regulus looked like when he was so drunk that he could barely talk. He remembered how Regulus would tug at his hands, trying to get him to stand up with him, half holding on to him to keep himself from falling. His fingernails would be painted black and would be chipped already, not that Regulus would care. His black hair was always a mess, but more so when he was drunk. He would smile, crookedly, pressing his cheek up against Severus’, whispering to him about nothing and everything.
And then, he would pull away when Severus would resist him, remaining where he was seated, doing whatever he was doing, working on a new potion, reading up on some obsolete subject, always completely sober.
Regulus would spin around the room, dancing with himself and laughing and giggling the entire time. Black hair would whip into his face, until he was so blind and dizzy that he would fall down to the ground, knees crashing next to Severus. He would place his head lovingly in Severus’ lap, smiling as though everything was perfect for him in that moment; complete his whirling motions that he called a dance, even if he always danced by himself.
Severus would absentmindedly run his fingers through Regulus’ locks, scolding him for getting so drunk, because they both knew he was going to be so sick tomorrow that he wouldn’t get out of bed.
Regulus wouldn’t answer, just smile, the right side of his mouth always
crooking up slightly above his left. He would run his hot, sweaty hands up
undearneath the black shirt that Severus was wearing, moving it aside and kissing
his lover’s pale skin lightly.
Severus would look down at him amused, making some dirty comment about
what a whore Regulus was, and would push away for the moment, returning to make
some final note in his work for the evening or to place his bookmark safely tucked
away in the yellowing pages of a dusty volume, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to
get anything else done for that evening.
Regulus would be sprawled across the floor then, staring up at the ceiling
with his dazed black eyes, arms spread wide as though he thought he were flying,
but was never moving across the floor.
The movements after that would be hurried and needy, kissing and fingers
fumbling with the clasps and buttons of the articles of clothing, mostly coming
from Regulus’ part, since he always wore a baggy t-shirt that went down to his
knees when he got drunk at home.
They would stay up half the night, loving and touching until Regulus would
finally just fall asleep, still sprawled underneath Severus. He would chew on his
hair and mumble in his sleep, kicking wildly, but still smiling the entire time.
Severus remembered all this as he stared at the picture that had somehow
made its way into his hands. It had been hidden in the back of one of his Potions
book, taken so many years ago when Regulus was still sleeping in bed, body only
half hidden by the black comforter that had adorned their bed.
Severus had nearly fallen down out of shock. It had been almost thirty
years since Regulus’ death. With the second war still raging onwards with no
sight of any victory, the reminder of his lover brought a rather rising
sentimental side upwards to make him think of what had been, undoubtedly, the best
time of his life.
It had been perfect, those nights when Regulus was so drunk that he could
barely say Severus’ name.
There was just one thing that Severus always regretted when he looked back
at that set of memories; he had never managed to dance with Regulus.