Work Text:
1974
“Sev!” called Remus, “Wait!” Remus hurriedly put his books away, sighing to himself as Severus didn’t bother to slow down on his way out of the classroom. Fucking typical. Gryffindor-Slytherin classes were hard on both of them, the tension between the houses an almost physical weight on the students, and who had the brilliant idea to pair them in Defense against the Dark Arts? Half of the Slytherins were from old families with ties to You-Know-Who, and a good chunk of the Gryffindors were either muggle-born or half-bloods like Remus. It was a match made in hell and Remus had opinions about Dumbledore’s decisions – or rather, lack of decisions – when it came to try and pretend most of them would not end up on different sides of the war.
Remus forced himself to stop thinking about the war and what it could mean for two of his closest friends as he ran after Severus, ignoring Peter’s question about meeting in the common room for their latest project (a map of the castle, and it was absolute insanity that they were even attempting it, but Remus knew they could pull it off), and not even acknowledging James and Sirius. He knew they were sneering at the way Remus followed Severus, there was no need to confirm it by looking at them, and he loved his friends, he really did, but they could be asses and now was not the time.
Severus had looked like shit since that morning but they had not been able to spend time together yet, between classes and meals taken at different tables and Severus straight up avoiding him. Remus had an inkling as to why his friend looked like death warmed over, because Lily had shown up with red eyes that morning at breakfast and she had stared at him blankly when he had tried to talk to her, until he had backed off. Remus could take a hint, unlike James, who had been on the receiving end of a particularly nasty hex.
Remus finally caught up with Severus when the Slytherin slowed down in front of the library. From up close, it was obvious Severus had not slept; his eyes were red-rimmed and there were deeper bags under his eyes than usual; even his tan skin looked paler in comparison. Remus fought the urge to reach out and hug him. It would not be welcomed in public, with students and professors walking the hall, all of them with opinions about their friendship already.
“What’s going on?” asked Remus. Severus cast a muffliato, a spell he invented himself a few months ago and that they had used and abused already, and Remus couldn’t help but admire the spellwork, still.
“We are on a break. Again. Or maybe we are done. I’m not sure,” replied Severus, sounding bored. Remus knew better; it smelled like ice-cold blood and Severus was occluding so hard he probably could not even feel his body anymore. Remus still felt his heart drop at the confirmation that they had had a fight; it was so much more difficult to pretend when Lily and Severus were on one of their breaks.
“What happened?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“Potter happened.” Severus spat the name and started moving towards their usual table at the very back of the library.
Remus could fill in the gaps. James had been an ass. Severus had reacted and probably made sure his hits were aimed even lower. Lily had yelled at them, and she had left.
Remus had not been there. I’m sorry, he wanted to say. He didn’t.
Remus was sorry. That his friends were arseholes when it came to Slytherins and that Severus was bullied and that he never said anything because unlike Lily, he couldn’t walk away, couldn’t stand the idea of cutting people off. For the first time in his life, he had people, friends, and it was too much to ask of him to risk it by intervening. He hoped Severus understood.
But Remus was also not sorry. He was not sorry that Lily and Severus had broken up, again, because as much as they loved each other, they were not good for one another. They fought more often than they had normal conversations, they hurt each other with words and, in Lily’s case, hexes, and overall were the cause of so much heartache it was a wonder they still loved each other. It was exhausting to watch and Remus could not understand why they would do that to each other again and again. Remus told himself it was the only reason he was not sorry.
So he stayed silent and followed Severus. They went to sit down, their table free – everyone knew it was their spot and even older students were not keen on getting on Lily’s shitlist. She would not show up tonight, Remus knew. He would comfort her later in the common room, but for now it was just Severus and him and he was not proud that he felt happy about that. They sat in front of each other, as always, and Severus started taking his books out, his moves mechanical, the awful scent of occlumency so strong that Remus was getting light-headed.
“Severus,” he tried, hating feeling so fucking useless in the face of his friend’s pain, “do you want to talk about it?” Severus shook his head, the scent peaking, his lips almost white now. Remus could tell by the line of his shoulders that he was barely holding it together, and it broke his heart.
Without thinking, Remus reached across the table and took Severus’ right hand in his. The coldness of Severus’ hand made him realize what he was doing – they didn’t hold hands, ever, and Remus knew damn well Severus hated being touched without being asked beforehand, even more so in public-, but before he could retract and apologize, the Slytherin deflated and let his head hit the table, his grip tightening on Remus' hand. The metallic smell receded, finally.
His heart beating out a rapid staccato, Remus waited for something, anything, but Severus obstinately refused to lift his head and meet his eye. After a few minutes of tense silence, Severus rearranged his head to rest on his free arm, and Remus relaxed too, lowering his head and letting his chin rest on the table, a few centimeters away from Severus’ face, who was clearly falling asleep.
Remus tried to commit every detail to memory, feeling in his bones that it was something precious he was witnessing. Severus, vulnerable, with eyes closed and his lashes fanning out over tan skin; his parted lips, the soft exhales, so close to Remus. Slowly, the color came back to Severus’ lips and Remus watched, unable to look away or close his eyes too. He felt bewitched, looking at Severus peacefully sleeping, the pain on his face momentarily gone. Remus had done that, he had taken the pain and the occlumency away.
He looked at their joined hands, cold against warm, brown skin next to scarred. It felt right.
Remus stored the feeling somewhere deep in his heart, and he felt like a thief.