Fic finally f*cking finished
I'm embarrassed at how long it's taken me to finish this fic. I mean, I have unfinished fics even older, but this one was nearly done for so long....anyway, here it is. Caveat lector.
Title: Diagnosis
Summary: Lupin asks Snape to diagnose his health problems. Written pre-DH, so spoilers only through HBP.
Characters/Pairings: Lupin/Snape (mostly preslash)
Rating: R or maybe NC-17
Warnings: May cause embarrassment during your next doctor's appointment.
Word count: 3103
A/N: lash_larue wrote the best parts of this fic. I just made it Snupin.
I'd like to apologize most deeply to Lash for taking this long to get it finished. After the REAMING I got from the beta (no, not any of my usual betas), I didn’t even want to look at it for months. Then other things came up, and I’m only now finally calling it done. It’s probably not the best it could be, as I went back and rejected about half of the beta’s changes (so everything wrong or weird is entirely mine), but I like it again, and I’m pretty happy with the way it turned out.
Cross-posted to lupin_snape and hp_wankathon. Sorry for any spammage.
And this fic is dedicated to everyone who has odd, vague, undiagnosable health issues. Would that the cure were this simple. :-)
"If Madam Pomfrey couldn't discover the source of your problems, I doubt I’ll be able to."
"She said you’ve got more experience with curse- and potion-related illnesses than she has." Remus didn’t mention Poppy’s theory that Snape had acted as healer to the Death Eaters during that dark time between Dumbledore's death and the end of the war. "I'm sure he was the most knowledgeable wizard there, and it's not like he’d have had a choice, now, is it?" she'd murmured, shaking her head and putting her wand away, still mystified at Remus' symptoms.
"If you thought that you’d been poisoned, you should have gone straight to St. Mungo's," Snape said, frowning, but he passed his own wand over Remus' body even as he spoke.
"They're never any help," Remus muttered. "They put everything down to my lycanthropy and don't even look any further. It’s a waste of everyone's time."
"Except mine," Snape replied, shoving his wand back in his robes. He stared at Remus for a moment, as if flipping a mental coin, then said, "Take off your outer robe and come sit on the worktable."
Remus breathed a surprised sigh of relief and pulled off his robe. Poppy might have been right all around: she'd guessed that Snape might look at Remus simply to alleviate the boredom that he had to be feeling, now that he was no longer teaching at Hogwarts or being run ragged as a spy.
"Tell me your symptoms, in detail," Snape said as he moved the cauldron from the worktable to his desk. Remus hoisted himself onto the table as Snape began to rummage around in the drawers.
"It's all very vague, and none of it really interferes that much with my day-to-day life, but...it's annoying, you know?" Remus began.
Snape came back to the worktable, carrying some oddly-shaped implements. "No, I don't know. Could you try to be just a bit more specific?"
"Yes, sorry. I mean, I feel nervous, jittery. Even twitchy, sometimes. It usually comes on in the evenings, and then I have a hard time sleeping, no matter how much I've exercised during the day. What are you doing?" Remus asked, jerking away from Snape, who had poked something pointy into Remus' ear and was peering through it, using his lit wand.
"I'm looking into your ear,” Snape answered in an exasperated tone. “What does it feel like I’m doing?"
"Can't you just use your wand to see what's there?" Remus didn’t want to annoy someone who was trying to help him, but he had been startled by Snape's breath on his neck. “That’s how Poppy examined me.”
Snape straightened, scowling. "Lupin, you said that Madam Pomfrey couldn't give you a diagnosis. And there is only so much that a wand can tell me at first pass, so I'm going to be doing a physical examination. If you can't handle that, then leave." He crossed his arms and stared down at Remus, his contempt clear.
"No, it's...it's fine. I just wasn't expecting...I mean, it's how Muggle healers work, isn't it?"
"I suppose there are some similarities." He uncrossed his arms and bent again to peer into Remus' ear. "What other problems are you having?" he murmured, moving to the other ear.
Remus fought the urge to squirm at that breath on his neck again. "Er, mostly the sleeplessness and nervousness. I feel clumsy; I drop things. It's especially bad just before the full moon."
"So it may have something to do with your...condition, after all." Snape looked into each of Remus' eyes before moving away. Remus sighed with relief. He'd said it was fine, but Snape’s proximity was making him nervous. Part of his illness, no doubt.
Snape transfigured a wooden spoon into a hammer with a bit of rubber at the end and tapped Remus' right knee, then his left. "Have you noticed any change during the transformations, or when you're in your wolf form?"
"No, not really," he replied, although there had been one change: despite the Wolfsbane, Moony had been taking over for a few minutes just after the transformation and indulging in very embarrassing behaviour before Remus’ mind could catch up and put a stop to it. Remus couldn’t believe that the licking (and last time, the furniture humping) had anything to do with his current health problems, and he had no intention of giving Snape any more opportunities to bait him.
"Not really?"
"No. That is, I’m able to sleep better after I transform back. Once I’ve taken a pain potion. But I’m sure it’s just due to the stress of the transformation.”
Snape said nothing, but tapped Remus' wrists and elbows with the hammer, then transfigured the rubber end into sharp, pointy spikes. "Take off your shoes and socks," he ordered.
The next twenty minutes were spent mostly in silence as Snape dragged the spiked instrument across the soles of Remus' feet to see his toes move, and then ran it along his arms and legs, across his back and chest, and up the nape of his neck, asking if Remus could feel it (he could), and causing goosebumps to rise on every inch of his body. Snape held Remus’ hands to help him balance while he stood on one foot and then the other, and stared for a good three minutes at Remus' tongue, using a magnifying glass and a lit wand. He didn’t make eye contact with Remus (other than to examine his eyes) and didn’t touch him any longer than necessary (although he'd been careful not to let Remus fall during the balance testing), and yet all that time, Remus felt oddly safe and cared for, much more than he would have expected when dealing with Severus Snape.
As the examination progressed, however, Remus began to sweat and tremble. It wasn’t because Snape was doing anything painful or unpleasant to him; just the opposite, in fact: Snape's hands, as he ran them over Remus' back, chest, and arms, were surprisingly soft and gentle, and warm, really warm. He slid those soft, warm hands over Remus’ shoulders, asking, "Does that feel the same on both sides?" Remus stuttered out an affirmative, and then the hands moved on to his biceps and forearms, his thighs and calves, and the question came again and again in Snape’s dark, silky voice. "Does it feel the same?" Remus asked himself, trying to pay attention to the examination and not become horribly distracted by the touches. "Or does it just feel good?"
Remus realized, with some horror, that his body was misinterpreting all of the attention, and he was beginning to become aroused. He might have been able to ignore it, had Snape not finished the exam by feeling along Remus’ gums and under his tongue. Remus fought a losing battle not to react to the finger probing his mouth, the slide of warm skin over his lips. He shivered when the finger withdrew, and hoped that Snape wouldn’t notice the now-prominent bulge in his trousers.
He didn't doubt that his current state was partly due to the thoroughness of the examination and partly due to whatever aftershave Snape was wearing, must have been wearing, because he smelled so very good - like he’d just stepped out of a spice shop. Remus had never before thought of Snape in any sort of sexual way, and now he couldn't stop thinking about his scent, his voice, his touch.
He shut his eyes and tried to relax when Snape moved away to wash his hands, but his mind insisted on replaying certain parts of the examination. Again, he saw Snape staring at his tongue with the lit wand and the magnifying glass. Remus had looked back through that lens and seen right into Snape's eyes, which were as black as night, but not cold or hollow, just dark and intense. At one point, Remus thought that Snape must have seen something, because he leaned closer. Their knees had touched and Snape hadn't pulled away. Remus, of course, hadn’t been able to pull away because he was sitting on the worktable. Now he wondered if he would have moved, even if he’d been able to.
He was snapped out of the memory by Snape asking, "So how long has it been since you've had an orgasm?"
"What?" Remus sputtered, his eyes flying open and his head whipping around to look at Snape, who was leaning back in his chair, long legs crossed, twirling his wand between the fingers of one of those soft, warm hands.
"I wouldn't have pegged Miss Tonks as the type to wait until marriage, but that doesn't mean you must abstain as well."
"I'm not...it's...how is that relevant?" Remus snapped, willing his erection to go away and hoping that Snape would take his embarrassment for anger.
Snape watched his twirling wand. "The fact that I could not detect any sign of a curse or poison, together with your description of your symptoms, and your…reaction to a perfectly ordinary physical examination, leads me to believe that you're simply suffering from an overabundance of sexual tension."
Remus’ jaw dropped. Memories of Moony’s appalling behaviour shot to the forefront of his mind. He shook his head to clear it, and said, rather more loudly than he had intended, "I did NOT have a reaction!"
"Oh, please, Lupin," Snape said, shaking his head. "I make potions for a living; do you really think that I wouldn't notice even minute changes in colour, temperature, and scent?"
"And that wasn't a perfectly ordinary examination!" Remus continued, as if Snape had not spoken. "You had your hands all over me!" He jumped off of the table and began pulling on his socks and shoes.
"How else did you expect me to examine you?" Snape shouted as well, getting to his feet. "It's not my fault that you've let yourself get into this state!"
“I’m not in a ‘state’!” Remus finished tying his shoes and strode to the sofa, where he'd left his robe. Had it really been less than thirty minutes since he'd taken it off, hopeful that Snape could help him somehow?
“And just out of curiosity,” Snape said more quietly, but sounding nonetheless as if he were enjoying himself, “have you ever discussed your latent homosexual leanings with your fiancée?”
Remus spun around. “Look, I came to you for help, not to be mocked. God, I should have known better!” he snarled, mostly to himself.
Snape’s eyebrows rose. “I’m not mocking you, Lupin, I’m perfectly serious. Although I will admit that I am quite surprised, having thought you completely straight all these years. Your relationship with Black notwithstanding.”
Remus’ mouth dropped open again, but after a few blinks, he retorted, “Sirius and I were friends, and if you thought there was something more than that between us, well…that’s probably because you’re queer! After all,” he added more confidently, “it takes one to know one, doesn’t it?”
His bubble of injured pride and self-righteousness collapsed with Snape’s next words: “Exactly so.”
“You’re…oh. Er. I’m…I’m sorry,” Remus said, gobsmacked. “I didn’t know.”
“Then I take it back,” Snape replied smoothly, moving towards the door. “You’re definitely not queer. If you were, you would have guessed long before now.” He stopped by the door and waited.
Remus blew out a breath. He had to admit that Snape had tried to help him, so he gathered up his robe and turned to face him. "I'm sorry; I shouldn’t have got so upset. You tried to help, and I'm grateful for that, even if you're wrong about...about my problems. But thank you for trying." He picked up his robe and put it on, then moved towards the door.
"Lupin."
He turned to see Snape watching him. "Yes?"
"I'm not wrong," said Snape, crossing his arms over his chest, "but there could be other factors. Take care of this part of it, and if you're not better in two weeks, come back, and I'll work up some tests."
"I can’t just..." Remus went hot as he tried to think of a way to explain without having to explain.
Snape snorted. “I should have guessed that you’re the prudish sort.”
“I’m not-”
“Look, Lupin, you can tell yourself that it’s a genuine matter of health, if that will help you take things in hand, so to speak. Just lie back and think of England.”
Again, Remus felt his temper shorten uncharacteristically. “I’m perfectly capable of bringing myself off,” he snapped. “It’s just that, I…don’t like to. I prefer to be with someone.”
"Surely your fiancée would be willing to at least...help you."
Remus shook his head in a short, jerky motion. "We broke up."
Snape raised his eyebrows. "Ah. You might have told me that. Perhaps what you’re really suffering from is a broken heart."
Remus looked up sharply, but Snape seemed perfectly sincere. "No, it was mutual and relatively amicable. I'm actually-" He stopped himself. It would be unforgivably ungentlemanly to admit how relieved he was to be out of the relationship. "It's for the best," he said finally.
"So you'll find another young lady who can help you with your...condition."
"It's not as easy as that," Remus said, smiling wryly. "You may not know this, but women generally won’t jump into bed with someone they’ve just met.”
“And men will?” Snape raised an eyebrow and Remus wondered if he had just insulted him.
“Well, you must have some way to keep from falling into this ‘state’,” he said, his face heating up again. How had he got into a discussion of sex with Severus Snape, anyway?
“We aren’t talking about me, Lupin,” Snape began, but he must have anticipated Remus’ retort, because he added, “I take care of it myself when I need to, quickly and rationally.” Snape’s words were crisp and his chin was held high, but Remus noticed that he had begun twirling his wand again and was looking at that, rather than meeting Remus’ eyes.
“It sounds lonely.” The words were out before Remus could stop them.
“Not at all.” And now Snape did look at him. “When one is alone, there are generally no…unpleasant surprises.”
Understanding flashed through Remus' mind, and he tried to keep any pity from showing on his face, knowing that Snape would hex his skin off if he caught even the slightest hint of it. He forced himself to stop wondering about Snape’s past sexual experiences, and his eyes fell on Snape’s hand, still twirling the wand.
So did Snape use that hand to…? No, Remus would not think about it, even though his prick seemed to be showing an interest in the topic, causing any thoughts of pity to evaporate. "I've got to go,” he said in a rush. Snape opened the door for him, and Remus left quickly, looking over his shoulder briefly to say, “Thank you for your help." He stepped into the street and Disapparated before Snape could say another word.
That night Remus was resolutely not thinking about Severus Snape as he set his wand on his nightstand and stripped down to his underwear before lying on the bed. He was feeling more twitchy than ever. “Just get it over with, and then you can tell him he was wrong,” he muttered to himself. He began to stroke himself through the fabric of his briefs, mentally flipping through images that might help him reach his goal. The centerfolds from Playwizard that Harry and Ron had put up on the walls of their flat had a certain charm (no pun intended) as did the Page-Three girls in the Muggle tabloids, even if they didn’t jiggle and wink. Sliding his hand inside his pants, he thought about the cute, blonde grocery cashier with the perfect breasts who always took an extra minute to chat with him. She might have been good fantasy material, but Remus’ thoughts jumped ahead too far and too quickly, and before he was even half-hard, he’d decided that relationships with Muggles were simply too complicated.
They didn’t have to be, he supposed; sometimes Muggles were just looking for a good time, like those two blokes in the public loo where Remus had stopped to wash his hands once. He didn’t think they’d known each other, but he’d seen them exchange a look before he’d left. He’d gone ten feet, then realised that he’d dropped his handkerchief, so he went back in. The place had appeared to be empty, but the noises coming from one of the stalls indicated otherwise. Remus had scooped up his handkerchief and fled, his whole body burning with embarrassment.
So, yes, he should have told Severus that men do jump into bed (or loo stalls) with people they’d just met. Hell, Severus had probably done that once or twice himself before giving up on partners. Would he have actually gone into a bathroom stall with a Muggle? Or the stairwell of an empty building, or maybe a deserted alleyway? Would he have let another man kiss him, touch him, suck him until his head fell back and he was moaning for release, his fingers curled into the man’s hair? Or would he have been the one on his knees, his mouth and tongue working, his hands holding hips in place, the scent of his aftershave drifting up and those dark eyes looking right up into yours-
“CHRIST!” Remus squeezed his eyes shut and threw back his head as his orgasm blasted through him like a rocket. The first spurt of come landed on his chest, something he hadn’t experienced since he was 22, and he kept pulling and squeezing his cock, feeling it jerk as it pumped more onto his stomach. It seemed to go on for minutes, but finally he groaned, shuddered, and went limp.
So.
Not completely straight, perhaps. And not quite latent. Panting, he reached for his wand with a shaking hand.
After the third try, he was able to hold the wand without dropping it, and as he cast a cleaning charm, Remus resolved to take Snape up on his invitation to visit in two weeks. But not for any tests. He figured that two weeks would be long enough to do some research and gather information about how men had sex with each other. And maybe he’d spend a few days thinking of ways to convince Snape that he would never, ever bring any unpleasant surprises to bed with him.
But before he could come up with any specific ideas, he drifted off into the best night’s sleep he’d had in months.
~end~
Title: Diagnosis
Summary: Lupin asks Snape to diagnose his health problems. Written pre-DH, so spoilers only through HBP.
Characters/Pairings: Lupin/Snape (mostly preslash)
Rating: R or maybe NC-17
Warnings: May cause embarrassment during your next doctor's appointment.
Word count: 3103
A/N: lash_larue wrote the best parts of this fic. I just made it Snupin.
I'd like to apologize most deeply to Lash for taking this long to get it finished. After the REAMING I got from the beta (no, not any of my usual betas), I didn’t even want to look at it for months. Then other things came up, and I’m only now finally calling it done. It’s probably not the best it could be, as I went back and rejected about half of the beta’s changes (so everything wrong or weird is entirely mine), but I like it again, and I’m pretty happy with the way it turned out.
Cross-posted to lupin_snape and hp_wankathon. Sorry for any spammage.
And this fic is dedicated to everyone who has odd, vague, undiagnosable health issues. Would that the cure were this simple. :-)
"If Madam Pomfrey couldn't discover the source of your problems, I doubt I’ll be able to."
"She said you’ve got more experience with curse- and potion-related illnesses than she has." Remus didn’t mention Poppy’s theory that Snape had acted as healer to the Death Eaters during that dark time between Dumbledore's death and the end of the war. "I'm sure he was the most knowledgeable wizard there, and it's not like he’d have had a choice, now, is it?" she'd murmured, shaking her head and putting her wand away, still mystified at Remus' symptoms.
"If you thought that you’d been poisoned, you should have gone straight to St. Mungo's," Snape said, frowning, but he passed his own wand over Remus' body even as he spoke.
"They're never any help," Remus muttered. "They put everything down to my lycanthropy and don't even look any further. It’s a waste of everyone's time."
"Except mine," Snape replied, shoving his wand back in his robes. He stared at Remus for a moment, as if flipping a mental coin, then said, "Take off your outer robe and come sit on the worktable."
Remus breathed a surprised sigh of relief and pulled off his robe. Poppy might have been right all around: she'd guessed that Snape might look at Remus simply to alleviate the boredom that he had to be feeling, now that he was no longer teaching at Hogwarts or being run ragged as a spy.
"Tell me your symptoms, in detail," Snape said as he moved the cauldron from the worktable to his desk. Remus hoisted himself onto the table as Snape began to rummage around in the drawers.
"It's all very vague, and none of it really interferes that much with my day-to-day life, but...it's annoying, you know?" Remus began.
Snape came back to the worktable, carrying some oddly-shaped implements. "No, I don't know. Could you try to be just a bit more specific?"
"Yes, sorry. I mean, I feel nervous, jittery. Even twitchy, sometimes. It usually comes on in the evenings, and then I have a hard time sleeping, no matter how much I've exercised during the day. What are you doing?" Remus asked, jerking away from Snape, who had poked something pointy into Remus' ear and was peering through it, using his lit wand.
"I'm looking into your ear,” Snape answered in an exasperated tone. “What does it feel like I’m doing?"
"Can't you just use your wand to see what's there?" Remus didn’t want to annoy someone who was trying to help him, but he had been startled by Snape's breath on his neck. “That’s how Poppy examined me.”
Snape straightened, scowling. "Lupin, you said that Madam Pomfrey couldn't give you a diagnosis. And there is only so much that a wand can tell me at first pass, so I'm going to be doing a physical examination. If you can't handle that, then leave." He crossed his arms and stared down at Remus, his contempt clear.
"No, it's...it's fine. I just wasn't expecting...I mean, it's how Muggle healers work, isn't it?"
"I suppose there are some similarities." He uncrossed his arms and bent again to peer into Remus' ear. "What other problems are you having?" he murmured, moving to the other ear.
Remus fought the urge to squirm at that breath on his neck again. "Er, mostly the sleeplessness and nervousness. I feel clumsy; I drop things. It's especially bad just before the full moon."
"So it may have something to do with your...condition, after all." Snape looked into each of Remus' eyes before moving away. Remus sighed with relief. He'd said it was fine, but Snape’s proximity was making him nervous. Part of his illness, no doubt.
Snape transfigured a wooden spoon into a hammer with a bit of rubber at the end and tapped Remus' right knee, then his left. "Have you noticed any change during the transformations, or when you're in your wolf form?"
"No, not really," he replied, although there had been one change: despite the Wolfsbane, Moony had been taking over for a few minutes just after the transformation and indulging in very embarrassing behaviour before Remus’ mind could catch up and put a stop to it. Remus couldn’t believe that the licking (and last time, the furniture humping) had anything to do with his current health problems, and he had no intention of giving Snape any more opportunities to bait him.
"Not really?"
"No. That is, I’m able to sleep better after I transform back. Once I’ve taken a pain potion. But I’m sure it’s just due to the stress of the transformation.”
Snape said nothing, but tapped Remus' wrists and elbows with the hammer, then transfigured the rubber end into sharp, pointy spikes. "Take off your shoes and socks," he ordered.
The next twenty minutes were spent mostly in silence as Snape dragged the spiked instrument across the soles of Remus' feet to see his toes move, and then ran it along his arms and legs, across his back and chest, and up the nape of his neck, asking if Remus could feel it (he could), and causing goosebumps to rise on every inch of his body. Snape held Remus’ hands to help him balance while he stood on one foot and then the other, and stared for a good three minutes at Remus' tongue, using a magnifying glass and a lit wand. He didn’t make eye contact with Remus (other than to examine his eyes) and didn’t touch him any longer than necessary (although he'd been careful not to let Remus fall during the balance testing), and yet all that time, Remus felt oddly safe and cared for, much more than he would have expected when dealing with Severus Snape.
As the examination progressed, however, Remus began to sweat and tremble. It wasn’t because Snape was doing anything painful or unpleasant to him; just the opposite, in fact: Snape's hands, as he ran them over Remus' back, chest, and arms, were surprisingly soft and gentle, and warm, really warm. He slid those soft, warm hands over Remus’ shoulders, asking, "Does that feel the same on both sides?" Remus stuttered out an affirmative, and then the hands moved on to his biceps and forearms, his thighs and calves, and the question came again and again in Snape’s dark, silky voice. "Does it feel the same?" Remus asked himself, trying to pay attention to the examination and not become horribly distracted by the touches. "Or does it just feel good?"
Remus realized, with some horror, that his body was misinterpreting all of the attention, and he was beginning to become aroused. He might have been able to ignore it, had Snape not finished the exam by feeling along Remus’ gums and under his tongue. Remus fought a losing battle not to react to the finger probing his mouth, the slide of warm skin over his lips. He shivered when the finger withdrew, and hoped that Snape wouldn’t notice the now-prominent bulge in his trousers.
He didn't doubt that his current state was partly due to the thoroughness of the examination and partly due to whatever aftershave Snape was wearing, must have been wearing, because he smelled so very good - like he’d just stepped out of a spice shop. Remus had never before thought of Snape in any sort of sexual way, and now he couldn't stop thinking about his scent, his voice, his touch.
He shut his eyes and tried to relax when Snape moved away to wash his hands, but his mind insisted on replaying certain parts of the examination. Again, he saw Snape staring at his tongue with the lit wand and the magnifying glass. Remus had looked back through that lens and seen right into Snape's eyes, which were as black as night, but not cold or hollow, just dark and intense. At one point, Remus thought that Snape must have seen something, because he leaned closer. Their knees had touched and Snape hadn't pulled away. Remus, of course, hadn’t been able to pull away because he was sitting on the worktable. Now he wondered if he would have moved, even if he’d been able to.
He was snapped out of the memory by Snape asking, "So how long has it been since you've had an orgasm?"
"What?" Remus sputtered, his eyes flying open and his head whipping around to look at Snape, who was leaning back in his chair, long legs crossed, twirling his wand between the fingers of one of those soft, warm hands.
"I wouldn't have pegged Miss Tonks as the type to wait until marriage, but that doesn't mean you must abstain as well."
"I'm not...it's...how is that relevant?" Remus snapped, willing his erection to go away and hoping that Snape would take his embarrassment for anger.
Snape watched his twirling wand. "The fact that I could not detect any sign of a curse or poison, together with your description of your symptoms, and your…reaction to a perfectly ordinary physical examination, leads me to believe that you're simply suffering from an overabundance of sexual tension."
Remus’ jaw dropped. Memories of Moony’s appalling behaviour shot to the forefront of his mind. He shook his head to clear it, and said, rather more loudly than he had intended, "I did NOT have a reaction!"
"Oh, please, Lupin," Snape said, shaking his head. "I make potions for a living; do you really think that I wouldn't notice even minute changes in colour, temperature, and scent?"
"And that wasn't a perfectly ordinary examination!" Remus continued, as if Snape had not spoken. "You had your hands all over me!" He jumped off of the table and began pulling on his socks and shoes.
"How else did you expect me to examine you?" Snape shouted as well, getting to his feet. "It's not my fault that you've let yourself get into this state!"
“I’m not in a ‘state’!” Remus finished tying his shoes and strode to the sofa, where he'd left his robe. Had it really been less than thirty minutes since he'd taken it off, hopeful that Snape could help him somehow?
“And just out of curiosity,” Snape said more quietly, but sounding nonetheless as if he were enjoying himself, “have you ever discussed your latent homosexual leanings with your fiancée?”
Remus spun around. “Look, I came to you for help, not to be mocked. God, I should have known better!” he snarled, mostly to himself.
Snape’s eyebrows rose. “I’m not mocking you, Lupin, I’m perfectly serious. Although I will admit that I am quite surprised, having thought you completely straight all these years. Your relationship with Black notwithstanding.”
Remus’ mouth dropped open again, but after a few blinks, he retorted, “Sirius and I were friends, and if you thought there was something more than that between us, well…that’s probably because you’re queer! After all,” he added more confidently, “it takes one to know one, doesn’t it?”
His bubble of injured pride and self-righteousness collapsed with Snape’s next words: “Exactly so.”
“You’re…oh. Er. I’m…I’m sorry,” Remus said, gobsmacked. “I didn’t know.”
“Then I take it back,” Snape replied smoothly, moving towards the door. “You’re definitely not queer. If you were, you would have guessed long before now.” He stopped by the door and waited.
Remus blew out a breath. He had to admit that Snape had tried to help him, so he gathered up his robe and turned to face him. "I'm sorry; I shouldn’t have got so upset. You tried to help, and I'm grateful for that, even if you're wrong about...about my problems. But thank you for trying." He picked up his robe and put it on, then moved towards the door.
"Lupin."
He turned to see Snape watching him. "Yes?"
"I'm not wrong," said Snape, crossing his arms over his chest, "but there could be other factors. Take care of this part of it, and if you're not better in two weeks, come back, and I'll work up some tests."
"I can’t just..." Remus went hot as he tried to think of a way to explain without having to explain.
Snape snorted. “I should have guessed that you’re the prudish sort.”
“I’m not-”
“Look, Lupin, you can tell yourself that it’s a genuine matter of health, if that will help you take things in hand, so to speak. Just lie back and think of England.”
Again, Remus felt his temper shorten uncharacteristically. “I’m perfectly capable of bringing myself off,” he snapped. “It’s just that, I…don’t like to. I prefer to be with someone.”
"Surely your fiancée would be willing to at least...help you."
Remus shook his head in a short, jerky motion. "We broke up."
Snape raised his eyebrows. "Ah. You might have told me that. Perhaps what you’re really suffering from is a broken heart."
Remus looked up sharply, but Snape seemed perfectly sincere. "No, it was mutual and relatively amicable. I'm actually-" He stopped himself. It would be unforgivably ungentlemanly to admit how relieved he was to be out of the relationship. "It's for the best," he said finally.
"So you'll find another young lady who can help you with your...condition."
"It's not as easy as that," Remus said, smiling wryly. "You may not know this, but women generally won’t jump into bed with someone they’ve just met.”
“And men will?” Snape raised an eyebrow and Remus wondered if he had just insulted him.
“Well, you must have some way to keep from falling into this ‘state’,” he said, his face heating up again. How had he got into a discussion of sex with Severus Snape, anyway?
“We aren’t talking about me, Lupin,” Snape began, but he must have anticipated Remus’ retort, because he added, “I take care of it myself when I need to, quickly and rationally.” Snape’s words were crisp and his chin was held high, but Remus noticed that he had begun twirling his wand again and was looking at that, rather than meeting Remus’ eyes.
“It sounds lonely.” The words were out before Remus could stop them.
“Not at all.” And now Snape did look at him. “When one is alone, there are generally no…unpleasant surprises.”
Understanding flashed through Remus' mind, and he tried to keep any pity from showing on his face, knowing that Snape would hex his skin off if he caught even the slightest hint of it. He forced himself to stop wondering about Snape’s past sexual experiences, and his eyes fell on Snape’s hand, still twirling the wand.
So did Snape use that hand to…? No, Remus would not think about it, even though his prick seemed to be showing an interest in the topic, causing any thoughts of pity to evaporate. "I've got to go,” he said in a rush. Snape opened the door for him, and Remus left quickly, looking over his shoulder briefly to say, “Thank you for your help." He stepped into the street and Disapparated before Snape could say another word.
That night Remus was resolutely not thinking about Severus Snape as he set his wand on his nightstand and stripped down to his underwear before lying on the bed. He was feeling more twitchy than ever. “Just get it over with, and then you can tell him he was wrong,” he muttered to himself. He began to stroke himself through the fabric of his briefs, mentally flipping through images that might help him reach his goal. The centerfolds from Playwizard that Harry and Ron had put up on the walls of their flat had a certain charm (no pun intended) as did the Page-Three girls in the Muggle tabloids, even if they didn’t jiggle and wink. Sliding his hand inside his pants, he thought about the cute, blonde grocery cashier with the perfect breasts who always took an extra minute to chat with him. She might have been good fantasy material, but Remus’ thoughts jumped ahead too far and too quickly, and before he was even half-hard, he’d decided that relationships with Muggles were simply too complicated.
They didn’t have to be, he supposed; sometimes Muggles were just looking for a good time, like those two blokes in the public loo where Remus had stopped to wash his hands once. He didn’t think they’d known each other, but he’d seen them exchange a look before he’d left. He’d gone ten feet, then realised that he’d dropped his handkerchief, so he went back in. The place had appeared to be empty, but the noises coming from one of the stalls indicated otherwise. Remus had scooped up his handkerchief and fled, his whole body burning with embarrassment.
So, yes, he should have told Severus that men do jump into bed (or loo stalls) with people they’d just met. Hell, Severus had probably done that once or twice himself before giving up on partners. Would he have actually gone into a bathroom stall with a Muggle? Or the stairwell of an empty building, or maybe a deserted alleyway? Would he have let another man kiss him, touch him, suck him until his head fell back and he was moaning for release, his fingers curled into the man’s hair? Or would he have been the one on his knees, his mouth and tongue working, his hands holding hips in place, the scent of his aftershave drifting up and those dark eyes looking right up into yours-
“CHRIST!” Remus squeezed his eyes shut and threw back his head as his orgasm blasted through him like a rocket. The first spurt of come landed on his chest, something he hadn’t experienced since he was 22, and he kept pulling and squeezing his cock, feeling it jerk as it pumped more onto his stomach. It seemed to go on for minutes, but finally he groaned, shuddered, and went limp.
So.
Not completely straight, perhaps. And not quite latent. Panting, he reached for his wand with a shaking hand.
After the third try, he was able to hold the wand without dropping it, and as he cast a cleaning charm, Remus resolved to take Snape up on his invitation to visit in two weeks. But not for any tests. He figured that two weeks would be long enough to do some research and gather information about how men had sex with each other. And maybe he’d spend a few days thinking of ways to convince Snape that he would never, ever bring any unpleasant surprises to bed with him.
But before he could come up with any specific ideas, he drifted off into the best night’s sleep he’d had in months.
~end~