Entry tags:

fest, fic, nc-17, remus, slash, snape, snape/lupin, snupin

Fic: To Keep Calendars in the Absence of Time (Part 2)
Title: To Keep Calendars in the Absence of Time
Pairing: Snape/Lupin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: rimming
Word Count: 17,350
Summary:Severus finds that there can be many reasons to keep track of the days, even in a place where time has no meaning.
Author's Notes: Written for snapetoy in merry_smutmas, December 2007. My undying gratitude to everyone who provided their input along the way, including eeyore9990 for encouragement and a brilliant suggestion, alisanne for last-minute assistance, and most especially to nehalenia, for everything.

III

A sudden, unexpected sound pulled Severus out of a fitful sleep. Instantly alert, he lay still and listened for it to come again. A few heartbeats later, it did; a sharp tik of something small hitting the glass pane of his window.

As he turned his head toward the source of the noise, Severus' gaze was drawn to the pale light seeping in around the edges of the curtains. It was the full moon again -- the third since Lupin's arrival. Although he was no longer a werewolf, Lupin still chose to spend the full moons tromping about the forest for the better part of the night. Severus wasn't certain why. Perhaps Lupin was concerned that he might yet transform, or perhaps the moon still affected him in some way, or maybe he simply enjoyed looking at the glowing orb in the sky all night and knowing that it would never hold sway over him again. The last, Severus thought he might be able to understand.

Tik! The sound came once more, and Severus rose to investigate. He threw the curtains aside just as another pebble bounced off the windowpane. Cursing under his breath, Severus raised the window and looked down. There on the ground stood Lupin, clutching what Severus assumed was a handful of tiny stones.

"Lupin! Have you taken leave of your senses?" Severus demanded.

Apparently, Lupin took the question to be rhetorical. Instead of answering it, he laughed and shouted, "Severus! Come down!"

"What? Why?"

It was too dark to be sure, but Severus could have sworn Lupin rolled his eyes. "Come on, Severus! Get dressed and come down!" With that, Lupin jogged around the side of the house and out of sight, leaving Severus to decide whether to do as Lupin bade, or ignore the lunatic and go back to bed.

Three minutes later, Severus walked out his front door, fully dressed. It wasn't as though he'd been sleeping well anyway, he thought resignedly. Lupin was waiting for him, and before Severus could grumble anything disparaging in his general direction, Lupin reached out and grasped Severus' hand. "Come with me," Lupin said, and began pulling Severus toward the trees.

Severus abruptly found himself being led on a weaving, twisting course through the darkened forest at nearly a run. Seemingly deaf to Severus' orders to slow down, Lupin kept a tight grip on Severus' hand and plunged ahead with only the moon to light his way. Severus reached for his wand with the intention of at least casting Lumos, but Lupin stopped him, saying, "Don't. There's enough magic here." Perplexed, Severus allowed Lupin to guide him, silently hoping they wouldn't break anything important.

At last Lupin came to a halt. Severus attempted to catch his breath, and watched as Lupin closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "When I was the wolf," Lupin said, "I loved the forest. It was one of the only things that could calm me. I don't remember much from my transformations, but I remember that." Lupin's voice was strange, low and intense. It held Severus' full attention and made any words of his own catch in his throat.

Lupin turned to Severus and met his gaze. A thin beam of moonlight filtered through the trees and fell across Lupin's face, making his eyes glint in the darkness. "I still feel a connection, especially during the full moon. Every forest is alive, Severus. Even this one. Each one has its own unique pulse, an ebb and flow of energy… Here!" he said suddenly, stepping closer to Severus. "Listen! Can you hear it? Feel it?"

Somehow, Severus had forgotten that Lupin was holding onto his hand until Lupin raised it, palm up. Pushing back the sleeve of Severus' robes, Lupin began gently tapping out a pattern on the pulse point of his exposed wrist. His voice dropped to a whisper as he went on, "Beat. Beat. Beat. The rhythm of the forest. There's music in it, if you know how to hear. Close your eyes."

Severus didn't know what it was that made him do as Lupin commanded. His eyes slid shut, and for a moment, the whole world was Lupin; Lupin standing so near to him that he could sense the aura of heat and magic that radiated from him, so near that Severus could feel Lupin's breath stir his hair -- or was that the wind? Then Severus' awareness expanded, and at once he could hear all the sounds of the night-time forest in perfect clarity. The clicking of insects, the chirping of tree frogs, the flutter of leaves in the breeze were all startlingly distinct, yet they blended perfectly with Lupin's steady tapping, the beating of Severus' own heart. And there was music in it, of a sort, Severus realized. There was a cadence, an underlying hum that called to him in words that he couldn't quite make out…

Abruptly, Severus felt cold, and the sense of clarity dissipated. Blinking his eyes open, he saw that Lupin had released his arm and stepped away. Severus opened his mouth to speak, but Lupin pressed one finger to Severus' lips and shook his head. Then, smiling enigmatically, Lupin turned and swiftly vanished into the trees.

* * * * *

Lupin was his usual affable self the next day, almost leading Severus to wonder if he'd imagined everything the night before. Only the fresh dirt on Severus' shoes provided evidence to the contrary. Severus had witnessed an aspect of Lupin, a certain intensity of feeling, that he hadn't known the man possessed. Intrigued, he found himself studying Lupin at odd times, attempting to see some hint of it lurking beneath the surface.

This peculiar facet of Lupin's character eluded Severus, however, and the only lurking Lupin did was in Severus' mind. Images of Lupin standing before him, touching him, speaking to him in that low, fervent tone returned to him as he lay in bed at night, and haunted his dreams. More than once he awoke in the dark, sweaty and panting and achingly hard, the remnants of a half-remembered fantasy rapidly evaporating as awareness returned.

Eight nights after the full moon, Severus awoke in such a fashion, sitting bolt upright with the sheets tangled about his legs. He pulled off his sweat-dampened night shirt and cast it aside in frustration. The cool air of the room dried his skin and sent a shiver down his spine, but did little to abate the heat low in his belly. Flopping onto his side with a huff, he buried his head in his pillow and attempted to will himself back to sleep. It quickly became apparent that it wasn't going to work this time, and there was only one way he would find rest again this night. Resolutely, he rolled onto his back and slid one hand beneath the covers.

For many years, self-pleasure had been nothing more than a very occasional and perfunctory affair for Severus. When he was a teenager, of course he'd taken every available opportunity to enjoy a brief wank -- what hormone-riddled adolescent male didn't? But as an adult, he'd learned to ignore such urges for the most part, since they inevitably led to bitter thoughts of all the things he could never have. This time, there was nothing perfunctory about the wave of sensation that shot through Severus as he wrapped his fingers firmly around himself, and he had to bite his lip to keep from groaning aloud.

Thoughts of Lupin and the forest flooded in unbidden as he began to tug at himself roughly. Vague and shifting images of Lupin's lips moving as he spoke to Severus, Lupin's fingers tapping out a rhythm in time to Severus' strokes, the moonlight reflected in Lupin's eyes formed and fragmented in his mind. Impulsively, Severus slipped his free hand beneath the sheets to cup his swollen bollocks, and he could almost feel other hands, Lupin's warm, broad hands, touching, caressing him everywhere.

Severus' hips rocked up and beads of sweat rolled down his thighs. For once, he wanted to draw this out, to be awash with these visions and sensations for hours, but he couldn't slow down, couldn't stop. As his fist flew over his cock, the imaginary Lupin leaned in close and whispered Come for me, Severus, and Severus could do nothing else. Teeth clenched against a shout, Severus came in violent spurts, arching up off the surface of the bed with the force of it.

As his climax subsided, Severus was left feeling both deeply sated and rather disturbed. Apparently the former outweighed the latter, since he was soundly asleep minutes later.

* * * * *

Lupin was already sitting at the kitchen table when Severus made his way downstairs the following morning. By the light of day, Severus was more than a little embarrassed and disconcerted by his inappropriate fantasies about Lupin. Only his years of practice at concealing his thoughts enabled him to maintain a nonchalant demeanor and not blush six shades of scarlet when the unwitting subject of said fantasies greeted him with a cheerful, "Good morning. Tea?"

Making an affirmative gesture in the general direction of the tea pot, Severus moved to mark the calendar. Lupin watched him do so, then said, "I've no idea why you’ve bothered to keep that up. We already know time doesn't mean anything here."

Severus' tangled hair fell over his face as he slumped into his usual chair across from Lupin. "As a matter of fact, we don't know that," he replied irritably. "We only know that you were somehow inserted at a different point in our timeline."

Lupin rolled his eyes. Severus thought that perhaps he'd been a bad influence. "True," Lupin said, "but we've no idea when our timeline started or how quickly it progresses in relation to that of the world we came from. For all we know, it could be a hundred years after Voldemort there. Or a hundred years before. Or it could still be the day we died."

This was precisely the sort of reasoning Severus had pointedly been avoiding. Scowling, he argued, "It could, but that still doesn't mean that our timeline has no relevance here." Wherever "here" was.

"Fair enough," Lupin said mildly, clearly more prepared to back down on this matter than Severus. A distant look crossed his features as he said, "Personally, I think time is flowing in reverse here." He cocked his head to the side and seemed to study Severus. "You look younger lately, Severus. I feel younger."

Discomfited by the apparent scrutiny, Severus said, "Don't be absurd, Lupin. Of course you feel younger. Your body is no longer dealing with the stress of transforming itself into a slavering, hairy nightmare on legs every four weeks."

"Mmm," Lupin hummed noncommittally as he brought his tea cup to his lips. "You have to admit that it feels good to be free of the old duties and obligations and prejudices, though."

Severus snorted slightly in response to the sentiment, but didn't disagree.

A few minutes passed in silence, then a smile crept across Lupin's face. It was the sort of smile that told Severus that Lupin was up to no good. "What?" Severus asked apprehensively.

"I've just decided upon a new goal for my afterlife," Lupin replied. When Severus lifted one eyebrow and eyed him distrustfully, Lupin laughed. "I'm going to make you forget to mark your calendar, Severus." As he looked at Lupin's wicked grin, a few lascivious thoughts as to how Lupin might be able to accomplish his goal sprang into Severus' head uninvited, and he was forced to hide the resulting blush behind his tea cup.

Remembering Lupin's remark, Severus looked in a mirror at the first opportunity. Even after careful examination, he couldn't imagine what Lupin had been on about. He didn't appear any younger to his own eyes. Over the following days, Severus studied Lupin through furtive glances, and decided that Lupin did seem younger somehow. Perhaps it was simply that Lupin was less careworn and weary, but the change seemed to run deeper than that. Whatever the case, Severus tried not to examine it overmuch, lest it lead to thoughts not at all conducive to spell research.

The nights were another story entirely. When Severus was alone in the dark, he called upon all the desires that he carefully suppressed during the day. His memory of that night, when Lupin had seemed so impassioned and bristling with an almost preternatural energy, had Severus half-hard before his hand even made contact with his swelling cock. He frantically stroked himself to climax while shifting images of Lupin and the forest and the moon played out in his mind every night for a week.

After that, Severus' awareness turned to the much more corporeal Lupin in the room across the hall, only a few meters away behind two thin walls. As Severus thrust into his hand, he wondered if Lupin pleasured himself in a similar fashion when he retired for the night. Perhaps Lupin was bringing himself off even as Severus raced toward his own release. He pictured Lupin lying naked, fingers gripping his shaft tightly, back arched in pleasure, and Severus matched his strokes to those of the fantasy Lupin. Each time, Severus came hard, burying his face in his pillow to silence his moans.

* * * * *

Severus moved quietly though the darkened forest, the round, shimmering moon occasionally visible though the breaks in the trees as he passed in and out of its light. Again he almost considered turning back before brushing the notion aside and continuing onward. He'd seen Lupin enter the woods in this direction, and knew he must be close.

As it happened, Lupin found Severus first. "Severus? Is something wrong?"

Severus turned in time to see Lupin stepping out of the trees to his right. "No," he answered, his voice sounding loud and out of place to his own ears.

"Then what are you doing out here?" As Lupin moved closer, Severus could see the expression of concern etched on his features.

Avoiding the question for the moment, Severus sneered defensively, "Am I disturbing you? If I'm interrupting your plans to run naked through the wilderness and howl at the moon, I'll leave."

"No, you're not disturbing me at all," Lupin said, ignoring the barb. "I'm just surprised to find you here."

A silence stretched out as Lupin looked at him quizzically, and Severus knew he should offer up some explanation for his presence. This was made problematic by the fact that he didn't have one. When he'd seen Lupin slipping off beneath the full moon, Severus couldn't say what had made him follow. "I wasn't tired," he began lamely. "I wanted…"

Severus didn't wholly know what it was he wanted, but Lupin seemed to understand nonetheless. The corners of his mouth twitched up into an impish grin. "Well then," he said, "I suppose you'd better keep up." With that, he turned and darted back in the direction from which he had come.

"Lupin! Wait!" Severus called, knowing that it was futile. For a span of three heartbeats, he hesitated, uncertain, then he plunged into the trees after Lupin.

The sound of Lupin's mirthful laughter led Severus to him before Lupin ducked under a branch and disappeared again. Determined not to let Lupin get away, Severus ran after him, not knowing if he was trying to catch the other man, or outrun him, or simply follow his lead. He knew he should be wary of the roots and branches that reached out to trip him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. As he flew through the woods, hot on Lupin's heels, Severus felt alive again, fifteen again, unfettered and unmarked and unbreakable.

At last Severus reached out and hooked his fingers in the back of Lupin's robes, and they stumbled to a halt, panting. Lupin laughed, a clear, bright sound, and moved toward Severus. "Do it again," Severus demanded suddenly, surprised by his own words. "Like last time. Do it again."

"All right," Lupin said, stepping closer still. "Close your eyes."

Severus squeezed his eyes shut and waited; waited for Lupin to take his wrist, for the sounds of the forest to coalesce, for the sense of clarity to return. One heartbeat passed, two, there was a rush of movement, and Severus found himself pressed up against a tree with Lupin's mouth covering his own. Caught wholly off guard, Severus couldn't prevent a high-pitched, needy sound from escaping his throat. Lupin swallowed it down, stole his breath, devoured his mouth. Severus reached up to push Lupin away, but instead twisted his fingers in Lupin's robes and pulled him closer.

Lupin overbalanced and fell against him. Severus felt a tell-tale hardness pressing into his hip, and his own cock instantly swelled in response. Lupin growled, a low, hungry, possessive sound, and brought one hand up to tangle in Severus' hair as he thrust his tongue into Severus' open mouth. Determined to give as good as he got, Severus clutched Lupin against him tightly and kissed, licked, bit, sucked, clawed, writhed in counterpoint to Lupin's movements.

Severus felt as though he were drowning in Lupin's heat, his breath, his magic. His head swam with it, his pulse raced and his blood boiled and his cock throbbed with it. The buzzing of insects and the rustling of leaves became a steady chant of want want want need need need in Severus' ear, and he couldn't think, could only feel and keep moving, moving.

Lupin's erection ground against his through their clothing, and Severus knew he couldn't last under the assault. He tried desperately to slow Lupin down, to not spend himself in his robes like an overexcited adolescent, but Lupin thrust his hips hard and growled into Severus' mouth, and Severus was done for. He clung to Lupin and struggled to remain silent as his knees buckled and he came in a dizzying rush. The only thing that prevented him from being utterly mortified was that Lupin gasped and shuddered a moment later, and Severus thought he must be in an equally sticky state.

As their breathing slowed, Lupin rested against Severus, his forehead braced on Severus' shoulder. Severus stood stiffly, uncertain what he should do. It was Lupin who finally drew his wand and cast a series of cleaning charms. It was Lupin who took Severus' hand and pulled Severus down to sit at the base of the tree. And it was Lupin who leaned against Severus and sat with him in silence as the moon sank out of sight.

* * * * *

Under the circumstances, Severus knew he couldn't possibly avoid Lupin for long. Therefore, he decided that he would just have to deal with the repercussions of the previous night's activities as swiftly and coolly as possible. He likely wouldn't be able to escape the impending unpleasantness entirely, but he'd be damned if he'd listen to a long-winded diatribe that included phrases such as "caught up in the moment" and "terrible mistake" and "best if we pretend it never happened".

In spite of the late hour at which he had finally gone to bed, Severus made a point to arrive downstairs before Lupin. It would at least force Lupin to be the one to deal with the awkwardness of entering a room already occupied by the other. It wasn't much, but he'd take any strategic advantage he could get.

When Lupin entered the kitchen, however, he didn't appear awkward in the least. On the contrary, his face lit up upon seeing Severus at the table, and he approached directly. "Good morning," he said softly, just before he ran a thumb over Severus' cheek, leaned down, and kissed him. Severus was so thoroughly taken aback that he could do nothing but stare at Lupin in obvious surprise.

Taking a seat across from Severus, Lupin chuckled ruefully. "Let me guess," he said. "You were expecting me to awkwardly stammer a load of excuses and apologies until you wanted to crawl into a hole and hex yourself deaf?"

"Pretty much, yes."

"Ah. Well, I decided I'd rather skip all that and get on with the touching and kissing, if it's all the same to you. I like that part considerably better."

Incredulously, Severus said, "You've gone completely mad. Barking."

Lupin cocked an eyebrow. "Possibly, but you can't tell me you didn't enjoy what happened."

"I suppose it was an… adequate way to pass the time," Severus muttered into his tea cup as he fought against a blush.

"Only adequate?" Lupin asked, grinning a bit wickedly. "I think we can do better than that!"

This time Severus did flush, although it was in equal parts embarrassment and anger. "I'm so delighted you've finally found a way to glean some entertainment at my expense here. Too bad your lowlife friends aren't here to join in the hilarity," he hissed sarcastically.

"I'm not…" Lupin began, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look. You enjoyed it. I enjoyed it. I can't think of a single good reason why we shouldn't do it again. As you just pointed out, it's a rather good way to pass the time, yes? And time is something we have plenty of." Lifting a hand as though to prevent Severus from protesting, Lupin went on, "I'm not suggesting that we run straight upstairs and spend the reminder of our afterlives in bed. But I see no point whatsoever in dancing around each other and denying something that we obviously both want."

As improbable as the notion was, Lupin seemed sincere. "I suppose," Severus said slowly, "if the situation were to arise again, there would be no harm in indulging." From the way Lupin smiled at him, Severus rather suspected the situation would arise again in the very near future.

IV

Following what must have been the strangest "morning after" conversation in the history of wizardkind, Severus had fully expected Lupin to pounce on him at the first available opportunity. He nervously waited for Lupin to throw him up against the potions supply cupboard in search of a repeat performance or some such thing, but no assault came. After four days, Severus' pulse finally stopped racing at Lupin's every move, and Severus began to think that the wretch had changed his mind. That was when Lupin waylaid him in the hallway at the top of the stairs. This time they at least managed to get their cocks out before turning their clothes into a damp, sticky mess.

Frottage in the forest and hand jobs in the hall gradually led to blow jobs in the basement, and then to even more intimate things. Although he would never confess as much, Severus was immensely thankful that Lupin seemed to want to allow things to develop slowly. It meant that Severus never had to openly admit to his lack of experience in these matters, and he thought he did a passable job of feigning at least a small measure of expertise. Lupin never complained, at any rate.

The first time he penetrated Lupin, Severus nearly lost control instantly. He managed to hold out at least a minute or two only by sheer force of will. He'd still have been mortified, but Lupin seemed to be too busy writhing and groaning and coming all over his stomach to notice. Severus breathed one small sigh of relief, then pretended that he'd planned it all along. He was more prepared for the overwhelming sensation on the next occasion.

Of course, they couldn't stay in bed -- or on the sofa, or against a tree, or bent over a table -- all the time. As their sensual explorations progressed, Severus and Lupin continued to read, research, converse, and walk in the woods as they had previously. Lupin also persisted in working on the connecting house when he had a free hour here or there. This irked Severus, although he couldn't imagine why it should. Certainly he had come to enjoy Lupin's company, but it wasn't as though Lupin could truly go anywhere, and he'd only be in the next house over. It had always been intended that Lupin would take up residence elsewhere as soon as he could make one of the other homes habitable. There was no reason that it should feel like a grievous insult every time Lupin disappeared next door.

On the four-hundred sixty-third evening, Severus tried to focus on the book in his hands while Lupin worked in the adjoining house. Tried and failed rather abysmally. Lupin had been at it longer than usual, and Severus' disposition was growing more caustic by the minute. Severus was just beginning to consider going to retrieve the miscreant when Lupin finally returned looking inordinately pleased with himself. Severus' mood darkened further.

"I should probably knock on wood before I say this," Lupin announced, "but I believe I'm essentially done. I need to look over all of my work to be certain everything is sound, but then I can start transfiguring some furnishings. Any special requests?" he asked, shooting Severus a suggestive look.

Severus met Lupin's leer with a scowl. "No doubt you can scarcely contain your enthusiasm at the prospect of getting away from me," he drawled, "but do try not to interrupt my reading with insipid talk of interior decorating. As if my input matters. You'll do the entire place in red and gold regardless of what I say, just to be contrary."

"If I'm as contrary as all that, then you’ve just ensured that I'll decorate the entire thing in green and silver now," Lupin joked. His demeanor turned serious as he sat on the sofa beside Severus. "I don't want to 'get away from you' at all, you know. I'd have thought you'd be rather anxious to get me out of your hair by now, though."

Oddly enough, Severus had no particular desire to get Lupin out of his hair, or his bed, or his house, or anything else for that matter, but his only response was a noncommittal snort.

"In any case, we could use a bit more space around here," Lupin went on. "This house really is small," he remarked, and glanced around the two downstairs rooms contemplatively. "It's all rather incongruous, isn't it? It seems as though, if the powers in charge were going to toss us in our own personal afterlife that is, as you put it, 'the size of a shrivelfig', they might have provided nicer accommodations. Old, run-down Muggle row houses? It doesn't make much sense."

Severus was suddenly acutely conscious of the impoverished condition of his house and its many signs of neglect. Pushing his discomfiture aside, he said matter-of-factly, "This was my childhood home."

Lupin smiled at Severus a bit uncertainly. "You're having me on."

"Am I?" Severus arched an eyebrow.

"You're not having me on," Lupin said, his smile turning into a wince. "Well. Pardon me while I remove my foot from my mouth."

"Why bother?" Severus asked. "One would think you'd be used to talking around it by now. Or with another orifice entirely," he added, although his earlier ire had dissipated and there was no real bite to his words.

Lupin rolled his eyes, then couldn't seem to resist another glance around the room. "Really? This is where you grew up?"

"Why are you so surprised by this, Lupin? Surely you didn't think I spent my summer hols dining on caviar served to me by a troop of house elves in a villa in Paris."

A distant expression fell over Lupin's face, and Severus knew that he was thinking back to their school days and remembering Severus as a teenager, with his ill-fitting clothing, second hand books, and poorly-cut hair, and seeing him through an adult's eyes. "I should have known, shouldn't I?" Lupin said contritely. "I suppose it never occurred to any of us to wonder, at that age. Hell, the Sorting Hat screamed 'Slytherin' practically before it was even on your head; I think we all just assumed you were from a typical magical background."

"I believe there are a number of exceptionally trite yet rather apt sayings about assumptions," Severus remarked, aware that the conversation had moved well into the realm of dangerous territory.

"Indeed," Lupin agreed wryly before comprehension seemed to dawn again. "Wait, that's how you knew Lily when we were kids, isn't it? You didn't just meet on the train. She was Muggleborn; she must have lived somewhere nearby." Lupin glanced around, as though he expected Lily's home to materialize.

At the unexpected mention of Lily, the usual pang of regret blossomed within Severus, but it was accompanied by the startling realization that he hadn't thought about her in days, perhaps weeks. He felt strangely guilty about that. "Yes. We were… friends. Before Hogwarts."

"I take it you're a half-blood, then. So which of your parents..?"

"My father," Snape replied. Lupin looked at him expectantly, so he added, "We weren't close."

"But you lived together?" Lupin asked.

"Yes. He did that," Severus offered suddenly, nodding toward the broken railing on the stair, "the first time my magic manifested itself in front of him. I was five. I think it was the moment that he truly realized what it meant to have a wizard for a son."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Lupin said, and Severus wasn't sure whether he was referring to Severus' family life, or something more.

"I'm not," Severus shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

"Hmm, I suppose it was," Lupin agreed, fixing Severus with a slightly soppy smile. "So, which bedroom was yours while you were growing up? The one I've been sleeping in?"

"Yes. Why?" Severus asked suspiciously.

His smile turning wicked, Lupin stood up and offered his hand to Severus. "Because I want to suck you off in your old room."

Severus couldn't argue with a statement like that. He took Lupin's hand and followed him upstairs.

* * * * *

"Get on with it already!" Severus demanded.

It was the five-hundred sixth day on Severus' calendar; the one-hundred ninetieth since Lupin had arrived, and the eighty-eighth since the night in the forest when their relationship had first taken a more intimate turn. Severus lay on his back, his bare legs tangled with Lupin's as Lupin sucked at the hollow of his throat. His rigid cock was trapped tightly between their stomachs, and Lupin was refusing to move, damn him.

"No. I want to take my time in enjoying you for once," Lupin said, then swiped his tongue across Severus' collar bone for emphasis.

Severus wriggled beneath the weight of Lupin's body, seeking friction, and muttered, "…stubborn, irksome, exasperating pain in the…"

At once, Lupin's weight was gone. Severus opened his eyes to see Lupin crouched above him on all fours and gazing at him intently. "Turn over, Severus," Lupin whispered, and something about the heat in Lupin's eyes made him do as instructed.

As Severus turned over onto his stomach, Lupin breathed, "Merlin, you're beautiful like that."

Severus snorted derisively. "You already have me in bed. False compliments are hardly necessary at this juncture."

"I mean it. You've no idea what you look like right now, do you? Laid out on my bed, all long lines and smooth skin…" Lupin ran his hands slowly down Severus' back and over the curve of his arse as he spoke. "You've so pale, you practically glow in the moonlight." There was a reverence, a hunger in Lupin's tone that sent a shiver down Severus' spine and made him believe, just for right now, that Lupin was sincere.

The bed shifted as Lupin moved. Lupin's shaggy hair tickled Severus' shoulder, then Severus felt Lupin's hot mouth on his skin, kissing an ambling path over his back and licking a slow trail down his spine. Surprised at the sensuality of it, Severus groaned into the pillow and thrust reflexively against the duvet.

"Like that, do you?" Lupin said. "I can do better."

Lupin shifted again, and then Severus was being pulled up onto his knees and elbows. "Lupin, what are you d--" Severus began, but his protest broke off with a gasp as Lupin ran his tongue up the crease of his arse. An instant later, Lupin blew a puff of cool air in the wake of his tongue, and Severus nearly collapsed into a trembling heap.

Apparently taking Severus' response as an invitation to continue, Lupin resumed the assault with his tongue, making shorter and shorter passes until he was focusing his attention wholly on Severus' puckered opening. Lupin laved him, speared him, stroked fingertips down his thighs, and Severus panted into the pillow and thought that nothing so terribly undignified should feel so incredibly good.

Balancing himself on one arm, Severus slid the other down to reach for his neglected cock. Before he could make contact, his hand was batted away. "Not yet," Lupin admonished.

"Lupin…" Severus groaned.

"Turn over, then. Face me," Lupin said, and Severus did so immediately.

When Severus was on his back once more, Lupin bent down to run his tongue up Severus' cock from root to tip, ending with a flick across the leaking head. He didn't linger there long, however, and Severus gave the faintest of disgruntled whimpers as Lupin moved to nip at his navel instead. Lupin ignored the complaint and slowly kissed-licked-bit-sucked his way up Severus' torso. Even tugging at Lupin's hair wouldn't hurry him, and Severus was vibrating with need and rocking his hips blindly by the time they were face to face again. Lupin's erection nudged at Severus' entrance, and Lupin leaned in to murmur near his ear, "Severus… Let me make you feel good…"

Severus fought down a surge of panic. "That's precisely what you've been refusing to do for some minutes now," he grumbled, but his voice was weak, unsteady. They'd never done this, and while he didn't wish to deny Lupin, he was reluctant to place himself in such a potentially vulnerable and revealing position.

"Please," Lupin said, his voice hoarse. "Want you."

That one word, spoken in such a fervent tone -- want; Lupin wanted him -- made Severus' decision for him in an instant. "Yes," he answered. "Yes."

At his acceptance, Lupin swiftly reached for the jar of lubricant on the night stand, twisted the top off, and dipped his hand inside. He kissed Severus deeply, passionately as he slicked himself then thrust two fingers into Severus, preparing him quickly. When he seemed to decide that Severus was ready, Lupin buried his face in Severus' neck, aligned himself, and pushed. He moved forward, pulled back a bit, moved forward again, and then he was sliding into Severus, in and in forever.

Once sheathed, Lupin froze in place. "All right?" he asked breathlessly.

Not quite trusting his voice, Severus nodded and dug his fingers into Lupin's back, encouraging him to move. Lupin moved, slowly, cautiously, shifting his position. Out of the corner of his vision, Severus could see Lupin's face fixed in concentration, sweat beading on his brow. It burned, it felt strange, and then Lupin -- ohdeargodfuck! -- Lupin found just the right angle, and Severus' breath left him in a gasp.

"There?" Lupin asked.

"Don't you dare stop doing that!" was Severus' reply.

Lupin gave a throaty chuckle that ended in a groan as Severus clenched around him.

That seemed to mark the end of Lupin's restraint. Suddenly Lupin was moving, really moving, sliding over Severus, driving into him in a steady rhythm, hitting that spot with every up beat. Lupin chanted nonsense words into Severus' ear, an endless refrain of "tight" and "hot" and "god" and "perfect," as Severus grasped Lupin by the arse and pulled him down over and over again. Lupin was filling Severus, filling him everywhere until there was no empty space left anywhere within him, and still it wasn't enough. Severus twisted his fingers in Lupin's hair, in the duvet as he arched and writhed. "More," he managed to gasp, and at last Lupin shoved one hand down between them to grip Severus' shaft.

Lupin began to pull roughly in time with his thrusts, and he groaned Severus' name. It was an urgent sound, pleading and fierce, and it was Severus' final undoing. His climax welled up within him and burst forth, wrenched from him by Lupin's hand, Lupin's cock, Lupin's body, Lupin's voice. He spilled himself violently over both their stomachs, a strangled cry catching in his throat as his vision went white. Lupin's motions became fast and erratic then, and he howled his own release moments after Severus, burying himself so deep that Severus thought surely he'd never be able to banish Lupin entirely.

When it was over, Lupin remained atop Severus for a time, resting his head on Severus' chest as they caught their breath. Eventually he rolled to the side, threw one arm haphazardly across Severus, and sighed contentedly. Several minutes passed, and Lupin was so silent and still that Severus thought he must have fallen asleep. Seeing this as his opportunity to escape with what little remained of his frayed dignity, Severus attempted to recall where his wand had ended up and began slipping smoothly out of the bed. As soon as he stirred, Lupin's arm tightened around him, and Lupin said, "Stay."

Turning his head, Severus found Lupin wide awake and watching him. Severus searched Lupin's gaze and found no contempt there, nor smug triumph. Tentatively, he reached out to brush a lock of damp hair off Lupin's forehead, and decided that it couldn't hurt to stay, just for tonight.

* * * * *

On the five-hundred seventh day, Severus forgot to mark the calendar.

V

It should have been enough. Here in their private world, Severus had found a sort of comfort and catharsis with Lupin that he'd never experienced in life. At long last, he was free from servitude and intrigue and war, no longer bound by the indiscretions of his youth. In many ways, it was more than he'd dared hope for himself after he'd learned of the Dark Lord's return. It should have been enough. But it wasn't.

As the weeks wore on, the seclusion began to burden Severus again, despite Lupin's company. He once more felt the forest closing in on him, and it seemed to grow smaller and more hostile before his eyes. Some days, Severus was able to armor himself in Lupin's smile, Lupin's warmth, and everything was all right. Other days, a dark mood seized him, and they'd learned the hard way that it was best for Lupin to simply leave Severus to himself until it passed. If Severus chewed his lips raw or bit his nails to the quick during his bad spells, at least Lupin was always ready to heal his hurts afterward.

The calendar had disappeared some time ago, and Severus missed having the regular act of marking off the orderly boxes to anchor him. He considered making a new calendar, then grew frantic when he discovered that he couldn't remember how many days had passed, no matter how hard he tried. Had it been nine full moons since Lupin arrived, or ten? Or more? He stayed up an entire night trying to recall before giving it up as a lost cause.

Severus' thoughts kept returning to Lupin's offhand remark about it being Severus' afterlife. Granted, he had been there first, and the street was a facsimile of the one on which he'd grown up. Yet, if it was truly his afterlife, then what was Lupin doing in it? Severus wondered if he'd somehow unknowingly damned them both. If they were damned, though, if this was some kind of hell, why did Lupin, by far the more sociable of the two of them, not seem especially bothered by the solitude? These questions plagued Severus' mind, but he could find no answers to them.

Severus had no idea what day it was when he sat on the ground in the woods, his back against a tree and his knees tucked up under his chin. He didn't know the phase of the moon, either, but it was a very dark night, so it had to be close to the new moon. That was all right, since he didn't need to be able to see.

"Severus?"

He rather wished he couldn't hear, either. The woods were taunting him, laying claim to him, reminding him with every rustle and hum that he could never leave. In their singsong voice, the nocturnal creatures told him no, no, can't escape, you're ours forever, ours ours ours ours ours… Severus had tried pressing his hands to his ears, but he couldn't block out the sound entirely.

"Severus?"

A dark shape moved in front of him and stood still. With some effort, Severus lifted his head, but his vision was unfocused, blurred. He could only make out a vague form, black on a grey background. He allowed his chin to fall back to his knees.

"Severus. What are you doing out here? I've been looking for you for hours."

It dawned on Severus then that the voice addressing him was familiar, and a strange desire to not disappoint the speaker kindled within him. Raising his head once, he struggled to remember. Tentatively, he said, "Lupin..?"

"Right, then," Lupin said, and the Lupin-shaped figure moved toward Severus. "Let's get back to the house. Here, put your arm around me…" Reaching Severus' side, Lupin bent down to slid one arm around Severus, and abruptly, Severus understood what Lupin meant to do.

"NO!" Severus shrieked. He lashed out, limbs flailing, and Lupin recoiled in obvious shock. Breathing heavily, Severus wrapped his arms around his body as though he could literally keep himself from coming apart at the seams. "No," he repeated. "I can't leave."

"Neither of us can leave," Lupin said, his tone bewildered.

Some rational corner of Severus' mind hated that he was responsible for causing Lupin to sound so lost. Attempting to rein in his agitation, Severus explained, "I can't leave here. Right here. This spot. I can't."

Cautiously, Lupin approached him again. "Why not, Severus?"

Desperate to make Lupin understand, to have his words make sense, Severus reached out a shaking hand and grabbed the hem of Lupin's robes. "This is the farthest I can get from the house," he said. "This is the farthest I can go. I've calculated it out, you see…"

"Severus…" Lupin said, sinking to his knees beside him.

"Listen!" Severus hissed, finally focusing on Lupin and meeting his gaze. "If I take a step in either direction, I'll be moving back toward the house again. Just one step."

"Oh, god," Lupin said, his expression pained.

Severus didn't want Lupin's pity, didn't want Lupin looking at him like that, but now that he'd started explaining, he couldn't seem to stop. "The woods feel like they're shrinking, Lupin. This is the farthest I can go, and the woods feel like they're shrinking. But I belong to the forest. I think I'm losing me."

"Oh, god, Severus," Lupin groaned. "I'm so sorry."

…Sorry..? The buzzing in Severus' ears suddenly stopped. "What?" he asked quietly.

"Severus…"

"Why are you sorry?"

Lupin opened his mouth as if to answer, but no words were forthcoming. Severus grabbed the front of Lupin's robes with both fists and hauled himself to his knees, then pulled Lupin forward until their faces were inches apart. "Why are you sorry, Lupin?"

When Lupin spoke, his voice wavered. "I think… I think I'm the reason we're stuck here."

"Why? Tell me!" Severus demanded, shaking Lupin roughly.

Lupin's eyes were wild and terrified as he answered, "I think… I killed myself."

Severus shook his head, unable to make sense of Lupin's words. "What? No, you died in the battle. You told me you died in the battle!"

"I did! I did, but…"

"But what?!" Severus gave Lupin another shake.

"But…" A distant look came over Lupin, and it was clear he was no longer seeing Severus or the forest at all. In an equally faraway tone, he said, "The attack came at midnight. I led a group onto the grounds. There were hexes flying everywhere, bolts of every colored light imaginable soaring through the dark. Like wizarding fireworks, I remember thinking. It would have been beautiful if people hadn't been dying all around."

Lupin's voice gained strength as he continued, "You always hear that time slows down in battle, and I think it must be true. Everything was moving so slowly. And I… I saw the curse coming. Dolohov was off balance; the spell was poorly aimed. I had plenty of time to dodge it. I saw the curse coming… a bolt of green… such bright green… and I made a decision. I stepped into it."

When Lupin finished speaking, Severus heard a strange, high-pitched groan, and realized it was coming from himself. It seemed to bring Lupin back to the present, and when his eyes locked with Severus' once more, Lupin whispered, "I'm sorry."

A small, hysterical giggle welled up from Severus' chest at the absurd notion that someone should be apologizing for effectively committing suicide by Death Eater. The giggle broke off in a strangled sound. Lupin pulled Severus into his arms -- or perhaps it was the other way around -- and Severus couldn't say how long they remained there, kneeling on the ground, clinging to each other in silence, for all the words had been used up.

* * * * *

Lupin looked up and offered a wan smile as Severus re-entered the sitting room. Wordlessly, Severus handed him a cup of tea. Wrapping his fingers around the steaming cup, Lupin murmured, "Thank you."

Severus hummed a vague response and settled onto the sofa beside Lupin, careful not to spill his own tea. Confusion over the somewhat hazy events of the previous night and anger that Lupin had been keeping things from him for months churned within him, but he forced himself to maintain a stoic mien. While he was anxious to hear more of Lupin's story, he thought it best to allow Lupin to tell it in his own time. His patience could only extend so far without tea, however.

"So where was I?" Lupin asked.

"You were telling me why you did it," Severus supplied.

"Ah." Lupin considered the cup in his hands for several moments before he spoke again. "You were right, you know. The things you said about me shortly after I arrived here, about my inability to stand up to friends and such… You were right. I always allowed others' desires to dictate my actions. You'll be happy to know that it eventually came back to bite me in the arse," he said wryly.

"I woke up one day and found myself living a life I never wanted, and I didn't even know how I'd managed to get myself into the mess," Lupin went on. "I'd spent so long just trying to be liked that, by the time I'd had enough, I didn't know how to stop. I just kept digging myself in deeper. When I saw a way out…"

"You took it," Severus finished for Lupin.

"Yes."

Lupin lapsed into silence, so Severus prompted, "And then you were here."

"Yes. That was the truth. One minute I was fighting at Hogwarts, and the next, I was here. If I was ever any place in between, I don't remember it."

"Yes, well. You seem to have forgotten a number of significant things," Severus muttered, shooting Lupin a pointed glare.

"Convenient, no?" Lupin said, meeting Severus' look with a rueful smile. "I suspect that's precisely why I ended up here, though."

"Oh? Why?" This was the part that truly puzzled Severus. It was clear that there was more than mere chance at work, but Severus still couldn't fathom why he and Lupin had come to be in this place together. He had long thought that his imprisonment in the displaced Spinner's End was the punishment for the crimes of his youth. Yet if this was the case, he could conceive of no explanation as to why Lupin, of all people, would arrive to ease the monotony. If Lupin had some theory, Severus was more than willing to consider it.

"Quite obviously, I wasn't prepared to accept what I'd done," Lupin shrugged. "It was safebeing stuck here where I didn't have to face anyone who--"

Although Lupin broke off abruptly, Severus still heard the unspoken conclusion. Anyone who I cared about. Anyone who mattered. Only slightly more charitably, he supplied, "Anyone whose good opinion you'd bent over backward to maintain in life?"

Lupin nodded. "Yes, exactly, and Merlin knows there was little I could have done to worsen your opinion of me at the time." Severus couldn't deny that, so he remained silent. A miserable look stole over Lupin's features as he continued, barely above a whisper, "But what would James and Sirius do if they knew?"

Old resentments flared within Severus. Battling them down for the time being, he rolling his eyes and said, "I imagine they'd slap you over the back of the head, call you a prat, and then ask what took you so long to show up, grinning like imbeciles all the while."

"You think so?" Lupin asked, offering an uneven smile over the top of his tea cup.

"Yes," Severus replied, the depth of his disgust at the notion fully evident in his tone.

Lupin's smile turned into an all-out grin, and he chuckled. "You might be right about that after all."

Severus couldn't understand why he felt both elated and resentful at seeing that grin. Impatient to turn the topic away from the self-professed 'Marauders' and back to the matter at hand, he asked incredulously, "So you think you chose to be here?"

"Not in such a direct fashion, no," Lupin shrugged. "But perhaps I was somehow supplied with what I wanted at the time. Or what I needed."

"And how do you suppose I figure into this theory of yours, Lupin?" Severus asked, skeptical. "I'm quite sure I never wanted to be dumped into a replica of my dismal Muggle house, and alone for months on end to boot."

"Oh?" Lupin lifted a brow. "You're sure you never wished for solitude, or a release from responsibility?"

The aggravating man had a point. Severus huffed and looked at his tea. Lupin had the gall to grin at him again.

"And perhaps," Lupin suggested, "you've had some matters to sort as well."

"Your conjecture is baseless, presumptuous, and unconvincing," Severus complained, but he had none better to offer.

Lupin didn't protest, and the conversation turned to less precarious topics shortly thereafter. By unspoken agreement, the remainder of the day was spent in familiar and comfortable pursuits, and Severus was thankful for the distraction that Lupin's company provided. Nevertheless, his mind drifted back to dwell on Lupin's confessions and speculations with every available opportunity. Severus was still pondering the problem the next afternoon when Lupin suddenly burst into the basement, breathless and disheveled, and gasped, "Severus! The forest! It's opened up. There's something beyond the forest."

VI

Severus nearly dropped the jar of lacewing flies he was holding when Lupin made his rather startling announcement. "What the devil are you on about?" he snapped, not because he didn't understand what Lupin meant, but because he simply couldn't believe that he'd heard it correctly.

Once Lupin caught his breath, he managed to explain in greater detail. "I was walking though the woods, not doing anything in particular," he said. "When I reached what should have been the midway point where the forest turns back on itself, there was new forest. Forest we've never seen before. I stood there for several minutes, and I began to hear sounds. Distant sounds, voices maybe. There's definitely… more. I didn't dare step over into it; I just ran right back here to tell you."

The pounding of Severus' heart in his ears nearly drowned out Lupin's account. "Are you sure you saw what you think you saw?" he asked.

"Come see for yourself," was Lupin's only response.

Although he forced himself not to tear through the woods at a dead run, Severus still made it to the halfway point in record time, with Lupin right behind him. It was, indeed, as Lupin had described. Meandering off into the distance were trees, rocks, paths, a blackberry bush that they'd never seen before. They stood in silence for some time and never heard the sounds that Lupin had reported, but it didn't matter. The sight of new landscape was enough.

Of course they would leave. There was never any question about it, no need for discussion. They would leave, and they would do it soon, since neither Severus nor Lupin was willing to take any chance that the woods might close again if they lingered too long. They agreed to return to the house a final time to gather any belongings they might wish to take with them, then venture into unknown territory in the morning.

Severus spent the remainder of the day packing and reducing his research notes, his test potions, a few reference books. In an odd way, he felt as though he were putting away the last several months of his existence. When he came to the journals filled with notes and observations written alternately in Lupin's script and his own, Severus' hands began to shake. After nearly breaking an entire rack of vials, he cleared his mind and forced himself to focus solely on the repetitive mechanics of the task at hand.

That night, when they went to bed early, Lupin kissed a trail up Severus' spine before entering him slowly from behind. He laced his fingers with Severus' and buried his face in Severus' hair as he moved above him. For once, Severus didn't demand that Lupin "go faster" or "get on with it" or "quit teasing," but was content to let the sensations build and simmer within him. When Lupin came with a long, shuddering moan, and Severus followed him over the edge, it felt amazing, exquisite, urgent, bittersweet. It felt like the last time. It felt like goodbye.

In the morning, when he walked away from the house for the final time, Severus felt something almost like regret. He told himself that it was absurd to be sentimental about the wretched place, even if his experiences there hadn't turned out to be wholly bad. He refused to look back over his shoulder as he stepped past the tree line.

As they made their way through the forest, Severus and Lupin didn't speak. Intent upon their goal, Lupin set a fast pace, and Severus' feelings of regret rapidly turned to bitter resentment. Now that he'd used Severus to deal with the worst of his trepidation, it seemed that Lupin could scarcely wait to rejoin his imbecilic friends. He wouldn't even spare a thought to leaving Severus behind. Severus wondered if Lupin even remembered he was walking behind him now, or if Lupin had already forgotten him. By the time they came to a halt at the edge of the new terrain, Severus was seething.

Turning to Lupin, Severus twisted his lip up into an old, familiar sneer. "Well. Goodbye, then, Lupin. It's been… diverting," he said.

"Somehow that's not the word I'd use for it," Lupin said, frowning. "And what do you mean 'goodbye'?"

"Oh, don't pretend to be so obtuse," Severus sniffed. "The moment we're through these woods and we find whatever passes for civilization in the afterlife, you'll go your way and I'll go mine."

Lupin had the nerve to look hurt. "Is that really what you want?" he asked.

No, it wasn't what Severus wanted at all, but when had his desires ever mattered? Once they found other people, once Lupin found his friends, Lupin would have no more need for Severus' company. They would go their separate ways, and the best Severus could do was make sure that it happened on his own terms. "It's simply a statement of fact," he said coldly. "We'll have other things to amuse us soon enough, and you'll no longer require -- what was it? -- a means of passing the time."

For several moments, Lupin stared at Severus agape. Under other circumstances, his expression of open astonishment might have been comical. At last he seemed to master himself and, snapping his mouth shut, he moved toward Severus. Quietly, he asked, "Is that what you honestly believe? That it was just a way to pass the time? All these months?"

"Are you suggesting that it wasn't?" Severus replied, incredulous.

Lupin lifted one hand to cradle Severus' neck, locking their gazes and not allowing Severus to look away. "It wasn't," he said firmly. "It never was."

The ground felt unsteady beneath Severus, and he could scarcely find the breath to whisper, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm going with you to whatever it is that comes next. And I'm not leaving here without you."

"What will Potter and Black think when you show up in the afterlife with me?" Severus asked, echoing Lupin's own fears from just two days earlier.

"They'll think I've lost my mind, or that you've cursed me, and I don't bloody care. I told you, I'm fed up with allowing other people to tell me what I should do. I'm done with it. I can decide for myself what I want, and I. Want. This."

Severus opened his mouth to reply, but found that he had no adequate words. It didn't seem to matter. Leaning forward, Lupin caught Severus up in a searing kiss that stole his breath and burned away his hesitation, his fear, his doubt. It went on and on until all that remained was the truth of Lupin's declaration.

When they broke apart an age later, Lupin asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Severus replied, and he realized that it was true.

A cheerful air came over Lupin, and he chuckled, "Welcome to the first day of the rest of your afterlife."

Severus smirked in response, but privately thought that Lupin was wrong. The first day of the rest of his afterlife had been the day that Lupin had arrived. Yet, since Severus had lost track of the days quite some time back, he supposed it couldn't hurt to start counting over again.

As they turned to face the forest once more, Lupin slipped his hand into Severus'. Then, moving in unison, they took their first step into unexplored territory.