Apologize
Title: Apologize
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Regulus/Severus
Rating: PG-13ish.
Wordcount: 1355
Warnings: Angst. Aaaaaand canon-twisting.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is owned by J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Scholastic. Here's a hint--I'm not any of those people.
Dedication: For hahahahowlucky because she's indie-fying me for Christmas and I wanted to give a little back. Also, it's inspired by a fic of hers, and I don't ship Snape/anything-but-his-own-hand... usually. Writing this was fun. Plus, I sort of ripped her off on the bar idea. NOT REALLY, just "sort of."
Severus had hands that moved quickly, darting here and there, slithering over his wand, pale as the sick harvest moon, with just a tint of color. Only the tips of them were cold, though, as if his fingers extended from his body on their own. He had no responsibility for what his hands did, what crimes they committed, what joy they bestowed. Severus was separate from what he did, Regulus decided.
He couldn't explain it any other way.
When they had first met--met for the first real time, at least--under the moonlight, Dark Mark stinging under flesh, a trickle of hot current made its way between the flesh of their chests. They knew. They knew each other. The blood of a traitor will always recognize its brother.
The second time they met, Regulus found Severus sitting morosely at the Seedy Owl, hidden somewhere deep in the belly of Knockturn Alley. He turned away from the near-empty bottle in front of him, looked up at Regulus, and smiled. It was just that, a pulling of thin lips over rough teeth, but it told Regulus that neither of them would last long. That when the Dark Lord found them, they would die, die simpering and alone and begging. When he finally spoke, his bloodshot eyes traced down Regulus's body, pausing here and there, musing and dreaming.
"Sit."
Regulus pulled up a seat. A wizard in the corner sauntered over to a witch and whispered carefully in her ear, doubtlessly negotiating a price.
"Why're you here?" There was no bite, no anger.
"I - I wanted -" Regulus stammered. I wanted to find you. As he searched for an explanation, he gazed over Severus's shoulder at the witch and the wizard, who were slowly working their way to an agreement, though the man was becoming agitated. Severus smiled again, this time with clear malice.
"You came here for a whore," he said accusingly, voice barely above a whisper. "And here I thought I was special."
The tone was patronizing, familiar. Mother. Father. Sirius. He wanted to prove himself to Severus. He wanted to prove himself faithful.
"No. I came to find you," he whispered, gazing into Severus's black eyes.
"Of course you did," Severus said with a cackle. "What did you want?"
"Nothing. I didn't want... anything. It's silly, I'll go," Regulus rose to leave when Severus clasped a hand around Regulus's wrist, pulling him back down.
"Don't be a bloody fool," Severus snapped. "You think a Death Eater can meet another in the middle of a goddamned pub and just walk away without speaking?" His eyes flashed dangerously.
Regulus chastised himself for the careless mistake. "Sorry," he said.
Severus winced at the word. "Stupid boy. Come, sit, have a drink."
The wizard and the witch laughed nervously and turned to leave.
Severus pushed his bottle at Regulus, who pantomimed taking a sip and shoved a peice of hair out of his face.
"Why are you here?" Severus asked, voice softening.
"I don't know. I really don't know."
"Then you've risked our lives for nothing. Black was right about you, bloody simpering idiot. Come, we'll go to my flat."
*
"Black?"
"Hmm?"
"You mentioned my brother."
"I did. What of it?"
Severus regarded Regulus under dim moonlight drifting through wafer-thin curtains. The walls of his flat looked fragile like cardboard and the furniture was well-chosen and clean, yet lacked warmth.
"How do you know my brother?"
"Hogwarts."
"Besides that. He would never tell you what he thought of me."
"Don't act like you don't know."
So it was true.
"You aren't afraid I'll tell him?"
"Tell him?" Severus asked, laughing incredulously. "You barely have the sense or the courage to serve the Dark Lord himself, you think you have the sense or the courage to betray me--"
Regulus balled up his fists and sighed, letting them go. "No."
"Good."
"But not because of you."
"How sweet. You still love your brother. You know betraying me will betray him."
"You're a bastard."
"No. I care for my life. If I die, they will die with me."
"Liar."
Severus just laughed.
*
After that, they met occasionally, in secret, neither of them really saying anything. It was drinking, it was murmuring in the dark, it was comfort.
But one day, when Severus reached out a hand to brush dust off the table, he leaned in a little too close to Regulus, and a line had been crossed. From then on, Regulus couldn't look at the other man without having a million thoughts rush through his head. Severus must have noticed, because their meetings became less and less frequent, Severus averting his gaze when Regulus looked at him with utter earnesty.
Regulus had enough of it at some point, and the next time they met, he pushed Severus up against a wall and kissed him, holding him firm as he tried to wriggle away. Severus clawed at his chest, pushed him away with frail forearms, and finally broke free.
"You've done it," he yelled. "Now you've done it."
What, precisely, he had done was unclear, for he was sure he had felt Severus's mouth pressing back despite his hands. They did not see each other for three months, save for when the Dark Mark called them together.
At the end of December, Severus showed up at Regulus's door, panting heavily, blood dripping down the corner of his mouth.
"What happened?" Regulus asked gingerly, wiping off the red stains with the hem of his robes, and Severus answered, "Muggles."
Regulus recoiled sharply. "Muggle blood?" he hissed.
Severus hung his head. "I had to."
Regulus stared.
"Don't just stand there, you sodding twat!"
Regulus slipped into the kitchen, giving Severus a reproachful glare.
"You're not my mother," he called after him.
When Regulus came back and wiped the remaining blood off him, their eyes locked and Severus grabbed the front of Regulus's robes and kissed him, gently taking his lips in his own. Regulus grinned halfway into the kiss, slipping the shirt off Severus's shoulders.
*
"What would you say if I said I loved you?" Regulus asked innocently in February.
"I'd say you were confused. And idiotic."
"Why?"
"Don't ask me that."
"Then tell me why." It was a plea.
"You don't love. You find comfort." He scoffed. "You think you love me? I'm just here, I'm just a body. If you found anyone else in the world to hug your sin with, you'd do it in a heartbeat."
"Not true."
"It damn well is. I can read you like a book. If you ever thought this was anything more than bodies--shells--coming together, you're extremely confused."
"And idiotic."
"Yes. But you're still young, I don't blame you."
"You... don't love."
"Never."
"You're a liar." It was hope.
"No," he said softly, looking into the large jug of amber liquid before him. "Although, I do take some pleasure in getting it in with Black's little brother." The words fell off his tongue listlessly.
Regulus took it as coldness and rushed out of the flat, fighting hot pricks of pain edging in behind his eyeballs.
Severus clenched his teeth and sighed, leaning his head back on the chair.
*
A year later, Regulus scribbled a note in the middle of the night.
S-
When I met you, I was confused and idiotic, you were right. Though I have not spoken to you since our last meeting, my thoughts have never been far away. Our cause needs a sacrifice, and I can only hope that I can help you by doing this. I once suggested that I loved you, and I apologize for my selfishness. At the time, I did not understand your answer. I found comfort in you, and that in itself is love. Forgive me.
-R
That morning, when Regulus left the inn, several men were waiting for him outside. He looked at them sadly, nodded, and vanished with them.
When the maid found the letter, she barely glanced at it, tossing it into the fireplace and muttering something about dirty sheets.
FIN.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Regulus/Severus
Rating: PG-13ish.
Wordcount: 1355
Warnings: Angst. Aaaaaand canon-twisting.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is owned by J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Scholastic. Here's a hint--I'm not any of those people.
Dedication: For hahahahowlucky because she's indie-fying me for Christmas and I wanted to give a little back. Also, it's inspired by a fic of hers, and I don't ship Snape/anything-but-his-own-hand... usually. Writing this was fun. Plus, I sort of ripped her off on the bar idea. NOT REALLY, just "sort of."
Severus had hands that moved quickly, darting here and there, slithering over his wand, pale as the sick harvest moon, with just a tint of color. Only the tips of them were cold, though, as if his fingers extended from his body on their own. He had no responsibility for what his hands did, what crimes they committed, what joy they bestowed. Severus was separate from what he did, Regulus decided.
He couldn't explain it any other way.
When they had first met--met for the first real time, at least--under the moonlight, Dark Mark stinging under flesh, a trickle of hot current made its way between the flesh of their chests. They knew. They knew each other. The blood of a traitor will always recognize its brother.
The second time they met, Regulus found Severus sitting morosely at the Seedy Owl, hidden somewhere deep in the belly of Knockturn Alley. He turned away from the near-empty bottle in front of him, looked up at Regulus, and smiled. It was just that, a pulling of thin lips over rough teeth, but it told Regulus that neither of them would last long. That when the Dark Lord found them, they would die, die simpering and alone and begging. When he finally spoke, his bloodshot eyes traced down Regulus's body, pausing here and there, musing and dreaming.
"Sit."
Regulus pulled up a seat. A wizard in the corner sauntered over to a witch and whispered carefully in her ear, doubtlessly negotiating a price.
"Why're you here?" There was no bite, no anger.
"I - I wanted -" Regulus stammered. I wanted to find you. As he searched for an explanation, he gazed over Severus's shoulder at the witch and the wizard, who were slowly working their way to an agreement, though the man was becoming agitated. Severus smiled again, this time with clear malice.
"You came here for a whore," he said accusingly, voice barely above a whisper. "And here I thought I was special."
The tone was patronizing, familiar. Mother. Father. Sirius. He wanted to prove himself to Severus. He wanted to prove himself faithful.
"No. I came to find you," he whispered, gazing into Severus's black eyes.
"Of course you did," Severus said with a cackle. "What did you want?"
"Nothing. I didn't want... anything. It's silly, I'll go," Regulus rose to leave when Severus clasped a hand around Regulus's wrist, pulling him back down.
"Don't be a bloody fool," Severus snapped. "You think a Death Eater can meet another in the middle of a goddamned pub and just walk away without speaking?" His eyes flashed dangerously.
Regulus chastised himself for the careless mistake. "Sorry," he said.
Severus winced at the word. "Stupid boy. Come, sit, have a drink."
The wizard and the witch laughed nervously and turned to leave.
Severus pushed his bottle at Regulus, who pantomimed taking a sip and shoved a peice of hair out of his face.
"Why are you here?" Severus asked, voice softening.
"I don't know. I really don't know."
"Then you've risked our lives for nothing. Black was right about you, bloody simpering idiot. Come, we'll go to my flat."
*
"Black?"
"Hmm?"
"You mentioned my brother."
"I did. What of it?"
Severus regarded Regulus under dim moonlight drifting through wafer-thin curtains. The walls of his flat looked fragile like cardboard and the furniture was well-chosen and clean, yet lacked warmth.
"How do you know my brother?"
"Hogwarts."
"Besides that. He would never tell you what he thought of me."
"Don't act like you don't know."
So it was true.
"You aren't afraid I'll tell him?"
"Tell him?" Severus asked, laughing incredulously. "You barely have the sense or the courage to serve the Dark Lord himself, you think you have the sense or the courage to betray me--"
Regulus balled up his fists and sighed, letting them go. "No."
"Good."
"But not because of you."
"How sweet. You still love your brother. You know betraying me will betray him."
"You're a bastard."
"No. I care for my life. If I die, they will die with me."
"Liar."
Severus just laughed.
*
After that, they met occasionally, in secret, neither of them really saying anything. It was drinking, it was murmuring in the dark, it was comfort.
But one day, when Severus reached out a hand to brush dust off the table, he leaned in a little too close to Regulus, and a line had been crossed. From then on, Regulus couldn't look at the other man without having a million thoughts rush through his head. Severus must have noticed, because their meetings became less and less frequent, Severus averting his gaze when Regulus looked at him with utter earnesty.
Regulus had enough of it at some point, and the next time they met, he pushed Severus up against a wall and kissed him, holding him firm as he tried to wriggle away. Severus clawed at his chest, pushed him away with frail forearms, and finally broke free.
"You've done it," he yelled. "Now you've done it."
What, precisely, he had done was unclear, for he was sure he had felt Severus's mouth pressing back despite his hands. They did not see each other for three months, save for when the Dark Mark called them together.
At the end of December, Severus showed up at Regulus's door, panting heavily, blood dripping down the corner of his mouth.
"What happened?" Regulus asked gingerly, wiping off the red stains with the hem of his robes, and Severus answered, "Muggles."
Regulus recoiled sharply. "Muggle blood?" he hissed.
Severus hung his head. "I had to."
Regulus stared.
"Don't just stand there, you sodding twat!"
Regulus slipped into the kitchen, giving Severus a reproachful glare.
"You're not my mother," he called after him.
When Regulus came back and wiped the remaining blood off him, their eyes locked and Severus grabbed the front of Regulus's robes and kissed him, gently taking his lips in his own. Regulus grinned halfway into the kiss, slipping the shirt off Severus's shoulders.
*
"What would you say if I said I loved you?" Regulus asked innocently in February.
"I'd say you were confused. And idiotic."
"Why?"
"Don't ask me that."
"Then tell me why." It was a plea.
"You don't love. You find comfort." He scoffed. "You think you love me? I'm just here, I'm just a body. If you found anyone else in the world to hug your sin with, you'd do it in a heartbeat."
"Not true."
"It damn well is. I can read you like a book. If you ever thought this was anything more than bodies--shells--coming together, you're extremely confused."
"And idiotic."
"Yes. But you're still young, I don't blame you."
"You... don't love."
"Never."
"You're a liar." It was hope.
"No," he said softly, looking into the large jug of amber liquid before him. "Although, I do take some pleasure in getting it in with Black's little brother." The words fell off his tongue listlessly.
Regulus took it as coldness and rushed out of the flat, fighting hot pricks of pain edging in behind his eyeballs.
Severus clenched his teeth and sighed, leaning his head back on the chair.
*
A year later, Regulus scribbled a note in the middle of the night.
S-
When I met you, I was confused and idiotic, you were right. Though I have not spoken to you since our last meeting, my thoughts have never been far away. Our cause needs a sacrifice, and I can only hope that I can help you by doing this. I once suggested that I loved you, and I apologize for my selfishness. At the time, I did not understand your answer. I found comfort in you, and that in itself is love. Forgive me.
-R
That morning, when Regulus left the inn, several men were waiting for him outside. He looked at them sadly, nodded, and vanished with them.
When the maid found the letter, she barely glanced at it, tossing it into the fireplace and muttering something about dirty sheets.
FIN.