Sulking
Date: Monday, 2 October
Time: Early Morning
Place: Severus' private lab in Hogwarts
Characters Involved: Severus and his daemons
Rating PG-13 for knee-deep angst.
Over a week had passed since the attack on the Leaky Cauldron and the resultant 'questioning'. The solicitor was gleefully immersing himself in finding every possible charge to press against the Ministry, and while that knowledge was somewhat soothing, a lengthy, messy lawsuit did not offer any expeditious sense of justice or vengeance.
Anger was pretty well cooled, though it was not gone. Lupin had borne the worst of the treatment by WCU, but even his silver-burns were now mostly faded.
The aftermath had left Severus waffling between listless apathy and pent-up anxiety for action. His self-decided penance for his past crimes had always been to do something to thwart those sorts of behaviours moving forward. In many ways, he had loved his role as a Death Eater spy, not because of the horrid things he was forced to do there, nor because of any lingering loyalty to that cause, but because the very role itself inflicted heinous punishment upon him. Every hour spent at the tender mercy of the end of his Lord's wand or magical lash, or at the hands of fellow Death Eaters when it was ordered such, had been like a sick sort of cleansing purgatory. Who deserved to suffer more than him?
Watching others suffer, helpless to do anything to stop it, was a far greater pain than anything they could inflict upon his body.
The world had gone completely mad.
The more timid students were still unusually subdued. Angry students were more volatile. Class-work had dropped in quality. Severus had even risked spending the few hours between the end of classes and sunset skulking through known 'haunts' of Death Eaters - not that the Ministry hadn't searched the same areas as well. Still, there were contacts he could make, in pretense of wanting to acquire questionable potions ingredients, which might have led somewhere, but had all come to naught.
His usefulness as a 'spy' seemed completely over. He could still purchase anything he wished, and be relatively assured of discretion of the proprietor, but he was no longer so 'trusted' as to be easily able to garner information. Legilimency offered him glimpses of what he had suspected - desperate stragglers, afraid of the Ministry, afraid of their former 'leaders', angry and abandoned, with nothing to lose. He could not hold the contact long enough to identify anyone, nor would he have likely recognised faces could he have used enough strength to pull clear images to the surface. As one of the very 'top' Death Eaters, it had been unnecessary for him to know or deal with the 'bottom ranks' in any capacity.
If he had been allowed to advise and direct the investigation, he might have suggested deliberately setting up Lucius or even Bellatrix as a 'leader', allowing one of them freedom from the blasted Registry to do as they would, and use them as the Pied Piper to gather the rest of the vermin.
Then again, by this point, even the Lady Bellatrix would be distrusted by those stragglers.
Desperate people were the most dangerous sort, and Severus was trapped here, in the safety of Hogwarts, unable to do anything useful.
All around him, life went onward. Narcissa conducted her Dinner Party as though nothing would dare tarnish the image of the Malfoy Family as the highest of the high. Pansy Parkinson had invited the entire bloody Wizarding World to her twenty-first birthday party, as though DARING the desperate and depraved to come and ruin it for her.
Even something in his own traitorous psyche rebelled against him!! At forty years of age, he had not had to consciously combat his own libido or anything like 'attraction' for another human being since before he took the Dark Mark. As though that Mark had, in its very existence, suppressed that physiological drive, and then in its absence that long-neglected side of himself was now clamouring for attention.
He hadn't wanked so often since he was a teenager.
At first, it had been a relatively logical, if excruciatingly pathetic reawakening. Physical proximity of any non-hostile individual introduced him to the concept of how pleasant it could be to simply be in gentle contact with another person. Since it was in his nature to remain at both a physical and emotional distance from anyone, it was logical to assume that any alteration in that habit would be disturbing to his subconscious.
He could have lived with such a disruption and the requisite, if perfunctory, toss in the shower to alleviate the tension, and have done.
But no.
Not satisfied with making him feel like a randy teen, this new awakening had to choose a focus, and now there was no more self-deception possible. It wasn't just any proximity which disturbed him. It would not alleviate his 'problem' if he were to finally do that which he had sworn he would never consider and hire a 'professional' - there would be no satisfaction in it.
He craved a thick mane of tawny golden hair, sprinkled with silver as though to defy the true metal's fatality; amber-brown eyes which crinkled with laughter, or darkened with warmth and compassion; expressive, full lips which could grin so mischievously as to set his teeth on edge in fear of some prank, or become reddened, moist and plump when bitten in thoughtful irritation.
And none of that 'window dressing' would matter, did it not house the one person left alive who seemed to truly understand him, or at least willing to attempt to do so. The one person who knew all that he had done, and yet still insisted on seeing something good, worthy, redeemable. Something of value.
The one person who made him want to be a 'better man'. Severus may not agree with the beast's rose-tinted image of him, but that faith made him want to be that which Lupin saw.
Lupin.
REMUS Lupin.
Impossible.
Like a moth to flame, he found himself unwillingly dancing around that deadly blaze. Drawn closer against his conscious intentions, he found ridiculous reasons to speak of this or that student, or the Household, or any excuse at all, until self-preservation and sheer force of iron will enabled him to retreat again. Cool. Distant. Unaffected.
It was just as well that his life experience had taught him to live with the ever-present, ever-painful longing for that which he could never have. It made this new, added suffering tolerable - one more well-deserved pain to add to so many others, in just punishment for all he had done, for all those things which could never find atonement.
Setting his present potion to the proper heat, he retreated to his rooms to don his teaching robes before breakfast.
Time: Early Morning
Place: Severus' private lab in Hogwarts
Characters Involved: Severus and his daemons
Rating PG-13 for knee-deep angst.
Over a week had passed since the attack on the Leaky Cauldron and the resultant 'questioning'. The solicitor was gleefully immersing himself in finding every possible charge to press against the Ministry, and while that knowledge was somewhat soothing, a lengthy, messy lawsuit did not offer any expeditious sense of justice or vengeance.
Anger was pretty well cooled, though it was not gone. Lupin had borne the worst of the treatment by WCU, but even his silver-burns were now mostly faded.
The aftermath had left Severus waffling between listless apathy and pent-up anxiety for action. His self-decided penance for his past crimes had always been to do something to thwart those sorts of behaviours moving forward. In many ways, he had loved his role as a Death Eater spy, not because of the horrid things he was forced to do there, nor because of any lingering loyalty to that cause, but because the very role itself inflicted heinous punishment upon him. Every hour spent at the tender mercy of the end of his Lord's wand or magical lash, or at the hands of fellow Death Eaters when it was ordered such, had been like a sick sort of cleansing purgatory. Who deserved to suffer more than him?
Watching others suffer, helpless to do anything to stop it, was a far greater pain than anything they could inflict upon his body.
The world had gone completely mad.
The more timid students were still unusually subdued. Angry students were more volatile. Class-work had dropped in quality. Severus had even risked spending the few hours between the end of classes and sunset skulking through known 'haunts' of Death Eaters - not that the Ministry hadn't searched the same areas as well. Still, there were contacts he could make, in pretense of wanting to acquire questionable potions ingredients, which might have led somewhere, but had all come to naught.
His usefulness as a 'spy' seemed completely over. He could still purchase anything he wished, and be relatively assured of discretion of the proprietor, but he was no longer so 'trusted' as to be easily able to garner information. Legilimency offered him glimpses of what he had suspected - desperate stragglers, afraid of the Ministry, afraid of their former 'leaders', angry and abandoned, with nothing to lose. He could not hold the contact long enough to identify anyone, nor would he have likely recognised faces could he have used enough strength to pull clear images to the surface. As one of the very 'top' Death Eaters, it had been unnecessary for him to know or deal with the 'bottom ranks' in any capacity.
If he had been allowed to advise and direct the investigation, he might have suggested deliberately setting up Lucius or even Bellatrix as a 'leader', allowing one of them freedom from the blasted Registry to do as they would, and use them as the Pied Piper to gather the rest of the vermin.
Then again, by this point, even the Lady Bellatrix would be distrusted by those stragglers.
Desperate people were the most dangerous sort, and Severus was trapped here, in the safety of Hogwarts, unable to do anything useful.
All around him, life went onward. Narcissa conducted her Dinner Party as though nothing would dare tarnish the image of the Malfoy Family as the highest of the high. Pansy Parkinson had invited the entire bloody Wizarding World to her twenty-first birthday party, as though DARING the desperate and depraved to come and ruin it for her.
Even something in his own traitorous psyche rebelled against him!! At forty years of age, he had not had to consciously combat his own libido or anything like 'attraction' for another human being since before he took the Dark Mark. As though that Mark had, in its very existence, suppressed that physiological drive, and then in its absence that long-neglected side of himself was now clamouring for attention.
He hadn't wanked so often since he was a teenager.
At first, it had been a relatively logical, if excruciatingly pathetic reawakening. Physical proximity of any non-hostile individual introduced him to the concept of how pleasant it could be to simply be in gentle contact with another person. Since it was in his nature to remain at both a physical and emotional distance from anyone, it was logical to assume that any alteration in that habit would be disturbing to his subconscious.
He could have lived with such a disruption and the requisite, if perfunctory, toss in the shower to alleviate the tension, and have done.
But no.
Not satisfied with making him feel like a randy teen, this new awakening had to choose a focus, and now there was no more self-deception possible. It wasn't just any proximity which disturbed him. It would not alleviate his 'problem' if he were to finally do that which he had sworn he would never consider and hire a 'professional' - there would be no satisfaction in it.
He craved a thick mane of tawny golden hair, sprinkled with silver as though to defy the true metal's fatality; amber-brown eyes which crinkled with laughter, or darkened with warmth and compassion; expressive, full lips which could grin so mischievously as to set his teeth on edge in fear of some prank, or become reddened, moist and plump when bitten in thoughtful irritation.
And none of that 'window dressing' would matter, did it not house the one person left alive who seemed to truly understand him, or at least willing to attempt to do so. The one person who knew all that he had done, and yet still insisted on seeing something good, worthy, redeemable. Something of value.
The one person who made him want to be a 'better man'. Severus may not agree with the beast's rose-tinted image of him, but that faith made him want to be that which Lupin saw.
Lupin.
REMUS Lupin.
Impossible.
Like a moth to flame, he found himself unwillingly dancing around that deadly blaze. Drawn closer against his conscious intentions, he found ridiculous reasons to speak of this or that student, or the Household, or any excuse at all, until self-preservation and sheer force of iron will enabled him to retreat again. Cool. Distant. Unaffected.
It was just as well that his life experience had taught him to live with the ever-present, ever-painful longing for that which he could never have. It made this new, added suffering tolerable - one more well-deserved pain to add to so many others, in just punishment for all he had done, for all those things which could never find atonement.
Setting his present potion to the proper heat, he retreated to his rooms to don his teaching robes before breakfast.