Seattle, USA

Mar 15, 2006 04:31



The air was heavy, cool, and damp when Remus stepped outside the hotel and into the busy streets of downtown Seattle, but instead of feeling the shock of the unseasonable temperature on his skin, he felt nothing but satisfaction. Rain-saturated or not, the air was fresh and he was breathing it in outside the confines of the twelve by twelve box he and Severus were currently calling home. It was a liberation he sorely needed, but even better, the gloom matched his mood, and at the sound of the hotel door slamming behind him, he allowed himself a grim smile and took off down the sidewalk, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.

The coffee shop was only three blocks away, but as Remus approached the door, he found that he'd rather not go in. He kept walking, the clacking of his shoes on the pavement like punctuation marks on the words he'd bitten back before leaving the hotel room, directed pointedly at Severus. Take that. Exclamation point. See if I'll stand - period - for your attitude - period - today. Exclamation point. Wait for your coffee - period - until I'm damn well ready - period - to bring it to you. Double exclamation point.

The tension between them had escalated to an all-time high, and at six cities and forty-nine days into this mission - and with September the first less than a week away - Remus was more than ready to throw in the towel and head home. But to Severus, giving up was like giving in, and rather than admit that they needed a new plan, and that he was pissed as hell that theirs had failed, and that he was terrified of leaving Lucius to walk the streets, he was biting Remus' head off at every turn, calling him an idiot for daring to think that going out alone in the middle of the afternoon for a cup of coffee was a good idea. Of course, this same argument never held water when it was Severus who felt the need for a few moments alone, however.

I am not a child. Exclamation point. And if you can't - period - start treating me like an equal - period - then what the hell - period - kind of relationship - period - do we have? Exclamation point.

Deep down, Remus knew that Severus' penchant for double standards was born of nothing but love and a desperate need to protect Remus from harm. But on days like this, it was easy for exhaustion and annoyance to make it look more like a complete lack of respect for Remus on Severus' part, and for Remus' hurt to transmute into anger and a need to do things like slam doors and stomp down streets. Death Eater Double Agent wasn't the only job in war that required six senses and the reflexes of a cat, after all. Remus hadn't survived two wars by prancing through the battlefields with his head in the clouds! Why could Severus never remember that?

Even now, as he turned to wander down a street he hadn't walked before, he had his wand tight in his hidden grip, and his magic tuned and open, waiting for any sign of dark magic, any sense of lingering static that only the most skilled wizard could recognize as the remnants of a recently performed spell. In truth, Remus already knew that he shouldn't stay out in this neighborhood for long. They had been close enough on Lucius' trail for Remus to know that he had to be alert at all times, no matter how far away the man might seem at any given moment. They'd seen enough on their escapades to know how unknown dangers could lurk in every shadow. Even so, he needed some time to clear his head. Just a half an hour to walk off his anger and let his emotions settle again, and then he could go back and drink his latte, and bring Severus his coffee, and put his arms around him, kiss him silently on the cheek and tell him with the gentleness in his embrace that he was sorry. At the thought of it, Remus already felt his nerves calming, and he was able to feel a flicker of regret at fighting with Severus. He loved him so much; it tore him apart to see how deeply Severus was feeling the disappointment of failure. But it was this sorrow and heartache that made Remus so much more sensitive to the pain Severus' biting tongue could bring. It always seemed that whenever Remus felt the strongest need for them to stick together, Severus felt a stronger one for distance.

That was just the man Severus was. Regardless, Remus loved him. They simply had different needs. It wasn't as if either of them really expected the other to ever change, anyway. In fact, Remus was sure he didn't want Severus to. It was just a stupid fight. He was sure Severus would be thinking the same thing soon enough, and that by the time he got back, all would be forgotten. It wouldn't make the failure of their mission any easier to swallow, but at least they would appreciate each other again. Feeling both apologetic and cheered, Remus turned a corner and began heading back in the direction he came.

***

Snape gripped the Muggle pencil he had adopted in lieu of quills hard enough to snap it in two. Why Remus insisted on going out alone, he would never know, but at least it gave him time to calm down.

He would never admit it, but the fact that their months away from home had proved fruitless was utterly galling to Snape. They never even caught a glimpse of Lucius, although Snape was convinced they had arrived at one of the bastard's hiding places just as he Apparated away. He had tried to argue that one of them - Snape, of course - should remain on Lucius' trail, but Remus had that set to his jaw...the same one he had the day he had invited himself along on this quest to capture the insane former Death Eater. They would both be returning to their positions at Hogwarts next week.

The failure felt like an iron cauldron sitting on his chest.

Snape was living his final nightmare - Lucius had sworn to take his revenge and once they gave up the hunt, the Potions master would be left still looking over his shoulder, still on alert for his every step outside the school, still worried to the point of aching over Remus being hurt or, worse, taken away from him. The Dark Lord's death was supposed to end such maudlin concerns, but, instead, Snape found himself growing more agitated by the day. There was a certain predictability to Voldemort's actions, a kind of twisted comfort in the enemy they knew.

Lucius, deprived of his wealth, wife and child, was a predator remade - but in what image, Snape did not know.

He checked the clock for the third time in fifteen minutes. Remus hadn't even been gone a half-hour, but Snape already had his fill of solitude. Snape would not apologise, but he would set their drinks aside when Remus came in and kiss him until he forgot he might want an apology.

I've come to despise coffee anyway.

***

By the time Remus turned the corner onto the street of the coffee shop and the hotel, the sky had begun to drizzle fat, heavy drops into the standing puddles. Four streets away from the shop, Remus broke into a jog, now suddenly as eager to be indoors as he had been thirty minutes ago to get out. He waited impatiently in line for their coffee and wondered what the weather was like at home. Home. The prospect of it was sounding better and better with every passing moment. This would be their final patronage of this funny, trendy store. Tonight they would sleep in their own bed, with their own faces, in a world where tea was just tea and coffee was just coffee, and they would drink it in the morning on their couch in their boxer shorts and then they would take showers in their huge, glorious marble bathroom without any bugs.

Remus paid for their drinks and left the shop, hurrying down the street despite the fact that the drizzle had stopped for the moment. Severus would be waiting. And Remus was ready to pack his bags.

As he neared the hotel, a raindrop dripped from a gutter and landed on his neck. It felt like ice, and slowly, every hair on his body stood up. Remus resisted the urge to freeze in his tracks. Something called to his senses, setting his nerves on end, and his right hand gripped his wand tighter, the holder containing their drinks balancing precariously and forgotten in the other.

He felt eyes on him.

***

Magic. The man raised his dirty face to the clammy mist that filtered down into the alley. He hadn't moved for hours, hadn't felt like moving, just wanted to sit and not think for a while. He had been chased from one end of this country to the other, all his hopes dashed on the rocky shores of a too-sunny land gilded in plastic and silicone. But this - this feeling he remembered, would always remembered, for it meant power. He knew he had to find the power and take it as his due.

He rose, joints popping, and stumbled to the end of the alley, blinking away rain until his senses zeroed in on a non-descript man walking by with coffee. This part of the city was mostly Muggle, but this man practically crackled with spells. He cast cleansing and disillusionment charms on himself and slipped out onto the sidewalk. Following a follower.
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