Pain was part of his life from birth. It was spliced into his bones, into his blood. His mother had tried to cover him from all the pain that life sent them, but halfway through that courage and pride that motivated her was lost along with her fighting spirit. After that, Severus had to learn to deal with the pain alone, like an animal baring its fangs and snarling at its predators, then escaping to lick its wounds in solitude.
Severus knew pain, he was used to it. For this reason, he didn't make a sound when he was hit by two cutting curses at once, in the chest, legs, and neck.
He made no sound. Some might say that it was because his vocal cords had been cut, but Severus had bitten his tongue and the blood in his mouth was there long before the curse had reached his neck.
He was used to pain, so he didn't stop fighting the masked Death Eaters until his legs were hit again by a curse, which finally forced him to his knees in a pool of his own blood.
Severus listened to their wild and triumphant laughter, as if bringing down a wounded man after several hours of fighting and with six people against him was a feat to be proud of.
Severus always knew his death would be like this, violent and painful. He knew it from the day they first tried to assassinate him and no one came to his aid.
Many might think that he was talking about that incident that no one was allowed to talk about, which only he was still clinging to like a resentful madman, instead of forgetting it altogether to keep the peace between everyone.
But no. He wasn't talking about that incident. The first time it happened was when he was seven. Severus still had his mother's love then. He could see it in her eyes, that warm glow that told him she was his blood, that he would one day make her very proud.
That glow disappeared every time his father entered the room. He hated his father for this.
At seven years old, children do not have the capacity to hate. They may know what it means, they may try to feel it towards things they don't like. But dislike is different from hate.
Severus didn't like mushrooms. He did not like the children in the pretty street above his neighborhood. He didn't like rainy days that made everyone in the house cranky, because the leaks were so loud on the wooden floor.
Severus hated his father. He had learned to recognize the sound of his footsteps from his room. He had learned to decide whether it would be wiser to pretend to be asleep or to hide depending on their speed, strength, and steadiness.
Severus hated his voice when it was full of anger, resentment, and rudeness. And he hated it when it sounded vulnerable and pathetic with a thousand "Eileen, please. I love you, I'll change for you, I swear. I swear."
Severus hated that his mother loved him more than she did him. Severus hated him.
So it was easy to decide that he would kill him when he came home one day, drunk and out of his mind, and started beating his mother, pulling her by the hair and dragging her into the bedroom.
It was easy to grab the first empty bottle he could reach, the same one Tobias had finished earlier that day and hit him over the head with it. Again and again.
Severus hated his father. But his mother loved him.
That's why it was so easy for her to choose him over her own son. It was easy for her to stand by, watching from a corner as her husband stood up, grabbed the boy by the throat, and began to slam him hard against the wall. It was easy to give a look of disapproval and disgust to the boy who had tried to save her.
—How dare you? It's your father...—
Only when Severus' screams drew the neighbors, when his nose was already irreparably broken, did Eileen dragged him into her room and lock him in, not even looking back when Severus called after her, with tears and apologies and terror in his voice.
Severus remembers hugging himself that night. Crying and wiping his own blood from his clothes furiously. Alone and in pain.
That day, Severus understood that someone like him would not die peacefully. And he was right, but he could take no satisfaction in this fact once the cruciatus curse hit him again, making his body twist and writhe without making a sound to show the intense pain he was feeling.
He had to anger the Death Eaters enough to kill him, instead of taking him to his master to torture the truth out of him, and all the secrets of the Order of the Phoenix. He had to keep fighting, even if he got nothing in return, even if no one turned to see him call for help.
Severus ended with his back in the snow, looking up at the cloudless, bright sky without any hint of heat. He heard the laughter of the masked men, insulting his origin and repudiating his treachery.
—The dark lord should have suspected it, a filthy half-breed like you... How could you be so impressive? —
Severus didn't answer. Not because he didn't want to, it was just that the blood in his throat hindered his clarity of thought. Dark, dramatic masks appeared above him, blocking his view of the clear sky
.
The masks were expressionless, but in his difficulty to reason properly, Severus thought of the time Lily had tried to scare him with a witch's mask at Hogwarts and how offended Professor McGonagall had been. Severus began to laugh.
—Disrespectful bastard. Crusio —
Severus finally let out a choked moan of pain. He could no longer scream, his throat was completely destroyed.
—Still resisting, traitor? Crusio —
Severus managed to let out something more like a scream this time. His reason was slipping from his mind, and only instinct remained. Therefore, he did not resist the tears that began to fall from his eyes. Even if it made the masks blur, their fixed expressions transforming into horrifying smiles.
—You're getting the picture, already. Well done, one more time. Crusio — Severus would not die peacefully. It had to be with pain, enough pain to prevent anyone from recovering anything of him. Not his soul, not his memories, not his body.
—....e.....-.....-ru.....—
Severus blinked for a moment. Slowly and with difficulty, the tears made it very hard for his eyelids to peel back.
He doesn't remember at what point the Death Eaters disappeared. He heard voices, frantic footsteps and voices saying words that had no meaning for him at the time.
—Severus...! —
He remembers that an angel appeared in front of him. Face only centimeters from his. Her eyes were the color of hazelnuts when roasted, deep and intense. She was moving her lips in an almost desperate mission. He didn't look very ethereal or majestic. He was definitely not peaceful, the way he seemed to growl anomalistically at the shadow-shrouded figures that tried to approach.
But he was beautiful. And he was so warm, with his hands pressing against his neck and his voice speaking in her ear. He couldn't make out the meaning of his words, couldn't make out a lot of things. He could identify that he was angry. Very angry.
Severus wished he wasn't angry with him. He tried to voice this thought aloud, but could only spit out more blood. The angel seemed to grow more furious, so Severus could only cry silently.
The angel stopped dead in its tracks, its movements ceased to be frantic and its beautiful eyes stopped scanning everything around it. They stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Severus wished the angel would never stop looking at him.
-...emus....et hi....ere!" Severus felt his body cease to touch the cold and instead be held by the warmth.
Long, firm arms wrapped around him and carried him easily away. Severus doesn't know where, he knows that the senseless screams began to grow more and more distant as the angel advanced and left the clear sky behind, to enter the tall trees that obscured the rest of the world. That covered them and sheltered them from evil and pain.
The door opened with a resounding bang that caused a couple of books and papers to fall off the countertops. The order was left behind, the children who had not even been born when this war began were left behind, fighting for the lives of those who should have ended it.
Remus threw everything off his planning table and gently set the potions master down on it. His movements were frantic and uncoordinated. He pulled out a bunch of gauze, needles, and ointments before even removing Severus' clothes so he could get a better look at his wounds.
Once did he it, he wished hed never done it. The bad thing about pretending to be strong all the time is that when you're not, everyone's impression of you changes.
Severus was made of stone and spite. Remus had been sure of this the moment he entered Hogwarts and was recived with friendly greetings, good luck wishes, and a single look of hatred that did not fail to stand out from the rest.
Remus was aware that Severus would never forgive him. That the angry kisses they shared from time to time were only to release tension, that the furtive glances he gave him whenever he thought he wasn't looking were only to silently curse him.
Severus was a cold man, ruined by the world into which he had been unfortunate enough to be born. A strong man, who would not share his grief with anyone. Who would not let himself be loved as Remus so desperately wanted to love.
—...hurts—
Remus raised his face, hands tinged red and eyes wild with the smell of blood. He was disinfecting a wound on Severus's pale calf, praying that it hadn't gone all the way to the bone, when he heard Severus's broken, cracked voice.
He raised his eyes to assure him, politely and professionally, that everything would be all right. That Harry was strong, and the order was taking care of everything, that they would save him and he could live in peace.
And then he saw Severus' frightened, pained expression. His thin, chapped lips quivered as he narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brows as if still trying to contain the uncontainable. Pain. Severus Snape was crying out in pain.
—Ugh... Ah!— Severus contracted with a spasm as Remus' hand squeezed his injured leg tightly. Remus let go immediately, still in shock at what he was witnessing.
Severus was crying and mumbling without uttering any understandable words besides "it hurts" and "please".
Remus couldn't move, but he knew that, if he didn't, this whole rescue mission would be in vain. Not only would they lose a spy, they would lose Snape. He would lose Severus, without telling him how he really felt. Without at least trying to make him understand that it was real.
Everything they had experienced together was real.
Severus spasmed again and tried to roll over the table, Remus held him to keep him from falling as Severus spat blood and bile while he cried.
Remus pushed all his thoughts, emotions, and his own urge to vomit to attend to the potion master. He'd gone through many a night without a potion for many years, both as a teenager and as an adult.
He knew how to heal wounds, cuts and broken bones. But to do it with another person, a person he cared about, was a totally different experience.
Every moan of pain, every scream, every shudder, made him have to control the urge to stop suddenly and not touch him again for fear of damaging him more than he already was.
Thanks to his self-control and all the magic in the world, he was able to convince himself that doing this would be equal to killing him, which would ultimately be far worse.
So, for several hours, he stood in silence, stewing, cleaning, and bandaging until Severus finally stopped bleeding and his tears stopped running down his cheeks. He was not asleep, his eyes were still half open, but he was definitely not awake.
Quietly, with all the care in the world, he lifted Severus into his arms (close, very close) and carried him to his bed. Once he had covered him with the blankets and made sure that he was breathing, that his wounds had not opened, and that he would not choke on his own blood if he coughed silently, Remus began to clean the place.
He threw Severus's black clothes into the fire, wiped his blood off the table, the floor, and his hands, and put a kettle on to boil. They couldn't use magic to send messages, so he sat down to wait until the others returned (if they returned at all).
After a while, he couldn't stand it any longer. The smell of blood still flooded the room, even though it had been cleaned over and over again. Finally, he gave up and decided to face his fears. He sat next to Severus' bed and looked at his face, finally asleep. He looked at the pale of his lips, his eyes swollen from crying, his matted hair and the white bandage, with two red dots where the wound had been cooked.
He watched his impassive, unperturbed face in his sleep. He wondered how a face like that, so used to being cold and distant, remembered how to make such open, pained expressions. Remus cried a lot that night. He fell asleep next to Severus, shivering with his head in his hands, begging forgiveness for something he hadn't done.
It was several weeks before Severus finally woke up.
Sometimes he would open his eyes and look around. Sometimes he would cry and mumble without waking from his deep sleep. In the time he had been asleep, the children managed to work out what had taken them years to even try. They celebrated, mourned their losses, wished for a better future.
Remus stayed by Severus's bedside during all that time. Sometimes, Sirius would drop off clothes and news from outside. Sometimes Molly Weasly would leave him food (always rations for two, "In case he wakes up and is hungry, you can eat together," she would say). Sometimes Harry would visit. He always visited alone, never staying long.
He felt it too, that sense of heaviness and inner misery at seeing someone so cold, so frightening and distant, reduced to something so vulnerable and fragile. Harry took care of everything for them when it came to the Ministry of Magic.
He fought tooth and nail to defend them, to defend Draco Malfoy and the surviving Slytherings, who had been too scared to fight on either side, but were still treated like unscrupulous murderers.
It was easier to turn and attack children and sick people than former co-workers and distant relatives.
When Severus woke up, it was one of the few times Remus would leave him alone. Severus tried to sit up anddid so with difficulty but without pain. He felt weak as if he was going to fall over at any moment and break into a thousand pieces again.
He hated it.
He was just one move away from jumping out of bed to crawl or crawl to the bathroom, when Remus bloody Lupin appeared. He opened the door as if he were at his own house (he would later discover that he dared to do this because it was, indeed, his house) and dropped the plate of toast and sausages he had come downstairs to bring.
Remus stood in the doorway, mouth open and eyes fixed on him, as if he were some abnormal creature that had just appeared after years of not having appeared. Severus opened his mouth to remind him that it was impolite to look just at others when Remus hastened to place his hand over his lips.
—Don't say anything! — Severus scowled, ready to fight him for his right to insult him when Remus spoke again, —Your vocal cords have not fully healed. The magic takes time to at least regenerate a little of what you've lost —
Severus' memories came back just then. The snow, the blood, his tears. Severus thinks for a moment that perhaps it would have been better to die then.
But he doesn't say it. Remus doesn't remove his hand from his mouth until he's sure Severus won't try to speak.
They spend the first few hours of the morning trying to get Severus to eat something, first with water, which is already painful and difficult, and then with a simple chicken and vegetable broth.
It hurts. It hurts like hell, but Severus holds on until he can't take it anymore.
—Don't be stubborn. If something hurts, tell me. Don't resist it or you'll get worse —
Severus said nothing. He didn't say anything when his legs started to ache during physical therapy. Nor did he say anything when his joints started to ache during the therapeutic walks, or when his head ached from the lights and colours of the Weasly family at Christmas.
He had never been in such a colorful place, so full of kind and loving people at Christmas. His mother and Lily had been with him for a while, but after that he never celebrated the holidays again, alone or with company.
Black made fun of his sweater. Molly scolded him and forced him to wear his own, over his leather jacket, so he couldn't hide it. Remus stayed by his side the whole time.
He had stayed by her side since she woke up. She didn't quite know why, but she couldn't hate him. Not at all.
Remus was a lovely, warm presence at her side. He was kind, he would bring her food to bed, even after several fits of rage in which he would end up throwing everything on the floor because he couldn't hold a bloody spoon.
He took him for walks, didn't get angry when sometimes Severus started hyperventilating and demanded to be returned home (Remus's home, not his. He didn't have a home anymore). He carried him to bed and held his arm when he tried to move on his own, no matter how many times he was pushed and how many times he had to pick up Severus's trembling, angry body when he fell.
Severus eventually got used to her presence, and slowly began to accept her help. It all started when, at night, they inadvertently met in the kitchen. Neither of them could sleep, at that time.
—I told you to call me if you wanted to go out,— Remus murmured, voice velvety with sleep, —I'm not a senile old man, Lupin. I can do things on my own —
Remus smiled at him. Severus again refused his help, and Remus did nothing but smile. He made him a cup of tea and walked him to bed. He didn't offer him his arm, kept his hands behind his back the whole way, and stopped beside Severus to wait for him when he got tired and needed to catch his breath.
When they finally arrived, Severus simply lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. Remus stood in the doorway.
—What? — he asked without looking at the figure that was still blocking the light in the corridor. He heard some footsteps, butthey didn't make him shiver or become alert because he knew them so well, they were safe. The footsteps stopped right in front of his bed, and he opened his eyes at the exact moment when Remus leaned towards him.
He stood still, not taking his eyes off him even as Remus covered his entire body with a blanket and tucked him in carefully. He didn't stop looking at him when Remus took a seat next to his bed and stayed there.
—You are so strange...— he whispered in a tired voice, with a desire to do something else. Something he never allowed himself to want.
—I suppose that's why we're here, isn't it? —
Severus fell asleep. The next morning, Remus didn't come to take him to the table. Severus went downstairs on his own and sat down next to him. They both ate breakfast in silence, not exchanging a word, but not moving away as their legs brushed under the table.
Remus stayed by his side until after the party. After he'd had too many drinks, and Molly was red with laughter at all the gossip and secrets Severus was revealing to her solely for her amusement. He dragged him along, one hand around his waist to keep him on his feet, preventing him from losing whatever dignity he had left in front of his students who, though they did not respect him, still thought very highly of him.
Remus was a lovely, warm presence pressed right next to him. Severus leaned into him, resting more of his weight on his shoulder, burying his face in his neck.
—I'll see you later,— He heard Remus say, quickly and without pausing for breath, hastening his pace to the point of appearance.
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Remus opened the door and lifted Severus onto the bed. The door closed with wandless magic, and the covers of the bed also unravelled on their own to make room for Severus.
One of the most surprising things he had learned about Severus in their time together was how surprisingly easy it was to make him laugh.
The first time he did so was when Remus confessed to him that he had never seen a Muggle film. Severus stopped his movements and turned to look at him intently, as if trying to open a window in his brain to confirm if he was telling the truth. Perhaps that was exactly what he did, because the next second he was reaching for his cane to stand up.
—We have to go to the shop—
It turns out that Lily was a fan of horror movies, so every year she bought the scariest one and made her whole family watch it at Christmas.
—She was so weird. Tunny always ended up sleeping with us afterward because she was scared, even if she refused to accept it. After all, she was the eldest...— muttered Severus, while the music from the opening of "Alien" played in the background.
Remus was convinced that the monsters in the film were inspired by a magical creature. There was no way anyone could have conjured such a thing without seeing an Acromantula, or even a Dementor. There was no way.
He wondered how no Muggle-born pupil had ever obtained a xenomorph as a boggart during his lessons. He was relieved because he wouldn't have been able to deal with it realistically. He liked animals, but this one caused him... conflict.
—I'm pretty sure the children would have tried to tame it...—Remus could actually visualize it. Luna Lovegood would have tried to name him and Hermione Granger would have fought anyone who wanted to eliminate him because "All lives are precious, even the lives that want to eat your guts".
Remus would have left this comment on the air to continue watching the film, despite how uncomfortable the blood and slimy massacre made him. He wanted to know what happened next so he wouldn't lose to Severus, who had questioned his Gryffindor bravery. But then Severus cheated and let out a giggle. A giggle.
Immediately, Severus tried to control it, but Remus would have none of it.
—Can you imagine? Pomona Sprout trying to raise a xenomorph like a particularly naughty mandrake. Which house do you think it would go to? I don't want to stereotype, but I'm sure the Slytherings would welcome him with open arms —
Severus was the kind of person who laughed with his whole body. Who knew? His eyes turned into half moons when he laughed, and he had his head thrown back, taking in ragged breaths and shaking with his whole body every time he guffawed again. Remus decided right then and there, what a life mission it would be to make him laugh as hard as he could for the rest of his life.
It didn't happen outside the house, sometimes it was accidental. Sometimes the effort alone would make Severus smile broadly and humorously.
Today, he shared that easy laugh he so adored with Molly Weasley. It was no surprise, thatSeverus had developed a soft spot for the woman, and Remus was so delighted to see him happy.
To see him share with others what he had been given fully and freely.
Remus looked at the man in his bed and couldn't help but feel the love he had cultivated for him all this time explode inside his chest. He wanted to lean in and kiss him, not just kiss him. No, he wanted to melt into him. Wanted to turn into his scent and absorb the warmth of his skin, run long fingers through his hair, andcaress his cheeks.
—Rest well...— he muttered instead of doing any of those things. Because Severus was drunk, and he was a coward, but not an idiot.
He tucked Severus in as he always did whenever Severus fell asleep on the sofa. He tucked the sheets under the mattress, to ensure that they would stay on top of Severus even if he moved in the night.
And in the blink of an eye, his hand was in Severus' grasp, who, eyes wide, gaze focused and bright, called out for him.
—Stay— he said in a commanding voice. The voice he used to hide how scared he was to beg for something. How close he was to doing it.
Remus didn't even register when his knees hit the floor, only Severus' arms wrapping around his neck, his own messing up the blankets he had so carefully secured to find his waist, wrap around his back and pull him to his chest.
He knew it had been months since Severus had finally made a full recovery. He knew that underneath his clothes he would find only pale scars without any bruises or wraps. Even knowing this, he was terrified when his weight covered Severus' body completely. He panicked because despite his subconscious screaming at him that he was hurting him, he didn't have the strength to move. To pull away.
Severus wrapped his hands around Remus's torso and pressed into himself until the full weight of Remus's body covered him completely. Remus laid his head on Severus' chest and listened to him take a deep breath, then exhale slowly.
Remus could cry. Severus' heart was strong, steady, and healthy. Remus wanted to cry.
—I love you...— he heard him murmur softly. His voice, which would never be the same again, whispered as he kissed his hair.
—I love you, Remus... And thank you —
Remus wept on Severus' chest, kissing his scars, leaving finger marks on the other man's back and waist from the tightness of his embrace.
Remus fell asleep after a while. And Severus, who had also been crying with him, followed after a moment.