Entry tags:

lupin, r, slash, snape

Fic: ~One Sock, Two Sock, Red Sock, Blue Sock~ R
Summary: Sometimes a sock really isn’t just a sock.
For Amorettea's prompt: A quiet night at home, comparing socks. It didn’t turn out anything like I had planned.
Rated a gentle R
Warnings: A little humor, a little angst, a little fluff
Thanks to Snegurochka for beta help.

This was a

at Eros & Sappho, May 2006

~~One Sock, Two Sock, Red Sock, Blue Sock~

Remus sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire, his back against the couch, a crossword puzzle book in his hands. The tip of his tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on finding a nine-letter word for sluggish.

“And what is this?” Snape’s deep growl caused Lupin to look up, and he winced as he saw the dresser drawer that Snape held in his hands.

“Um. Our sock drawer?”

Snape dropped the drawer on the rug in front of the fire and planted his fists on his hips. “I know that you have no pride in how you store your things, no sense of order or appreciation for the beauty of a well-organized collection of socks, but this mess is unconscionable.” He gestured at the jumble in the drawer. “What have you done to my things?”

“I... uh… was looking for something.”

“Something in my socks? Lupin, have you gone mad?”

Remus sighed and set his puzzle book aside. “I forgot to buy condoms when I went to the store. I know you keep an emergency supply somewhere, and when you came home, well…” His blush glowed in the firelight. “It did seem a bit of an emergency.” He smiled shyly. “I was going to straighten it up after, honest, but then I got distracted again.”

“Distracted again?”

“You brought home that beautiful piece of Orange Roughy, and there were vegetables to chop while you were preparing it.” He extended a hand to the scowling wizard. “Come, Severus. Sit with me and we will straighten this out. I’ll even sort my socks, too, all nice and neat.”

“I am not a child to be placated in such a condescending manner.” Snape’s tone was grim. “Why didn’t you straighten the mess up after dinner?”

Remus looked sheepish. “Because I forgot.”

“How you have managed to stay alive all these years with wits a dull as yours I’ll never know.” Snape grumbled as he sat beside Remus.

Remus ducked his head and rubbed his cheek on Snape’s shoulder. “I know that you’re as angry at yourself for not being able to come up with a potion that’s as effective as Muggle condoms, as you are with me for messing up your socks.” He smiled at the man beside him. “Come on, Severus. Peace?”

Snape huffed, then overturned the drawer, dumping the socks out in a colorful pile. “I just don’t like those things.”

“Neither do I, but unprotected sex with a werewolf this close to the moon?” He shook his head. “I will not take the chance of infecting you.” He leaned over and nuzzled Snape’s jaw. “No matter how much I want you.”

“Humph.”

Remus laughed and stirred the pile, then pulled out a black sock. “This is easy.” He smiled at Snape, picked out another black one, rolled them together and tossed them in the drawer. Snape leaned over and placed them carefully in a corner on the right-hand side, then plucked a sock off the top of the pile.

“Yours, no doubt.” The offending garment was a yellow and brown argyle. He dug through the pile to find its mate.

“Minerva gave them to me. Thought I needed to get in touch with my Scottish roots.”

“What Scottish roots?”

“The ones she always thought I had when we were drinking together.”

Something caught the corner of Remus’ eye and he tugged on the red toe of a sock. Pushing into the pile, he came up with two long red and gray argyle hose. “You too?”

“Perhaps we’re all Scottish under the skin.” Snape rolled them up, placing them neatly in the drawer. “Could have been worse. Did you see Albus’? Pink and orange.”

“Surely not!” Remus choked with laughter. “Is there even a tartan those colors?”

“Merlin knows.” Snape shook his head as he reached into the pile.

“Watch out!” Remus’ cry startled Snape and he jerked his hand back from the bright green knee sock for which he had been reaching.

“I know it’s ugly, but surely you didn’t have to shout – did that move?”

Remus got up, took the fireplace poker and flipped the sock into the fire. Then, stirring the pile with his foot, he located the mate and tossed that as well. Replacing the poker and wiping his hands on his jeans, he sat back down. The fire blazed green, sending up a cloud of exploding silver sparks.

“Care to explain?”

Remus grinned. “Fred and George gave them to me. I’ve thrown them out twice, but they seem to have some sort of homing charm built in. They itch, they’re the dickens to get off, and they dance.”

“Dance?”

“For hours.”

“I see.”

Remus was certain this time that Snape was suppressing a smile, but as his long hair hid his face, he couldn’t be sure. Remus went back to searching for the mate to a dreary brown sock.

~~

They had been working in comfortable silence for several minutes when Snape stirred the pile and frowned. “Why isn’t this pile diminishing?”

Remus’ head jerked up. “What do you mean?”

“The pile is not getting any smaller, though the drawer is a third full.” He reached for his wand. “And I know I threw out those socks Minerva gave me.”

Remus pulled his hands back as Snape passed his wand over the pile of innocent-looking footwear, then leaned forward and scanned the drawer. “The charm is on the drawer. I can’t get a good read on it, but it doesn’t seem to be malignant. Where did this dresser come from?”

“It was in my old Auntie’s attic.”

“Not likely to contain Dark Magic, then?”

“Hardly.” Remus smiled at the thought.

“It seems to be some sort of memory charm.” Severus pocketed his wand. “Very old. Maybe it will just run its course.” He sat with his hands in his lap, frowning.

“Come on, Severus. Memories can’t hurt you.” But as he reached into the pile, Remus couldn’t suppress a shiver.

Snape eyed him but said nothing, reaching for another black sock.

~~

For a while they sorted in silence, and Remus’ mind was drifting when he noticed Snape sitting still, holding a bright blue sock. He watched without comment as Snape stirred the pile, looking for the mate. When he found it, he smoothed the socks over his hand, tracing a yellow design on the ankle with a slow finger. Remus leaned his shoulder gently against Snape’s and when Snape looked up, Remus raised an eyebrow.

“They were me Mum’s.” Severus’ voice was the accented voice of his youth and he cleared his throat before going on in his usual tone. “I was about seven or so, and was always stealing them to wear.” He turned the socks to catch the light, and Remus saw a yellow cat stitched on the ankle, its round body looking like a child’s drawing. “I really liked them.” A fierce scowl descended over his face as he rolled the socks with a rough twist of his hands and shoved them into the drawer. “And they were discarded decades ago.”

“So… if you liked them so much, why the scowl?”

Snape shrugged and went on working with a vengeance while Remus thought.

“Don’t you think you deserve happy memories?”

Snape’s hands jerked, but he didn’t speak, and after a few minutes, Remus resumed their chore.

~~

All the black socks belonged to Snape, most of the others to Remus. But not all.

“Severus?” Remus held up a knee-high, brightly striped toe sock. Snape yanked it away and shoved it under the pile.

“My cousin gave me those when we were sixteen. She had a perverse sense of humor.”

“Had?” Remus was rummaging in the pile, not paying much attention.

“She died that same year.”

“Oh.” Remus looked up, a frown on his face.

“Don’t go getting all puppy-eyed. She hated me, and I her.” Snape shoved the sock pile savagely.

Remus said nothing. There were things his prickly lover would not discuss, and his upset over the gift of a cousin he purportedly hated was apparently one of them.

“Had you thrown them out?” The words were out of Remus’ mouth before could stop them. Snape’s stony silence was the only answer he got, but he noticed that Snape rolled the garish garments carefully and placed them in the bottom of the drawer.

~~

Remus reached into the pile and pulled out a handful of soft, light blue yarn. He sat frozen, staring at the four small tube socks that were pinned together. The soft sounds of the fire increased to a roaring in his ears, almost drowning out the muffled shouts and screams that echoed in his mind. The edges of his vision darkened until the only things in the room were the innocent looking socks.

“Remus?” Snape’s voice brought him back with a lurch of his heart. “What is it?” Snape’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, and Remus’ body responded with a violent tremor.

“My mother made these when I was six.” His voice was strained and flat. “They had to lock me in the cellar when I transformed and she was afraid my feet… my paws… would be cold on the stone floor. I tore them to shreds the first time I wore them.” Remus was shaking. “My mother…” He choked. “My mother was desolate because her love wasn’t enough to reach me; that they had to chain me like a monster.” He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “That I was a monster.” He fingered the soft wool as he spoke. “My father couldn’t cope with the fact that he was the reason for my lycanthropy. I thought he hated me.” Remus blinked against the pricking in his eyes.

“Maybe he couldn’t stand not being able to help?” Snape’s suggestion was soft.

Remus studied the socks, running his fingers over the stitches. “Mum always said that he loved me.”

“And, of course, you didn’t believe her.”

Remus swallowed hard and set the socks in the drawer. “Of course not.” He went back to work, and after a few moments of careful regard, so did Snape.

~~

“Please…” Snape held up a pair of white hand-knitted socks with frolicking wolf cubs on them. “Say it isn’t so.”

Remus laughed. “Hermione knitted them for me, that year she was knitting all those things for the house-elves. Didn’t you get a pair? I thought she got everyone.”

Snape rummaged in the pile and held up a black knitted sock with white snakes on it. Like the wolf cubs, they had been charmed to move and wriggled all over the socks.

Remus laughed. “I liked mine – until one of the pups bit my toes.” He thought he saw the corner of Snape’s mouth twitch. “Severus?”

“The snakes tickled.”

“You actually wore them?”

“They looked warm, and my office floor was cold at night.”

Remus tipped his head back and laughed. “I shall have to tell Hermione when I see her.”

“You will do no such thing! Not unless you want those cubs put on your feet with a permanent sticking charm.”

~~

Remus gave a choked cry of delight, pouncing on a shapeless, fuzzy pink sock. “Severus!” He held the sock high as Snape made a grab at it.

“Give it back!”

The intensity of the anger made Remus comply immediately. He sat looking at Snape, watching the waves of emotion sweep across the usually controlled features. Snape stared at his lap, clutching the sock in his trembling fists. The crackle and pop of the fire were the only sounds for several minutes. When Snape spoke, his voice was a hushed monotone.

“My Gran made them for me.”

Remus sifted through the pile and handed Snape the mate. “Wasn’t she… ill?”

“St. Mungo’s. They said she was crazy. I think she was poisoned. She died when I was nine.”

Remus studied him thoughtfully. “Is that why the interest in potions?”

Snape rolled the pink socks together and set them gently in the back of the drawer. “Maybe.”

“You couldn’t save everyone, you know.” Remus’ voice was soft.

“I know that!” Snape snapped at him. “I don’t need your patronizing remarks.”

Remus didn’t respond.

“I should have been able to do more.”

“You did all you could. More than most. Dozens, maybe hundreds, are alive because of what you did.”

Snape followed the reference effortlessly. “Because I killed Dumbledore?” His voice was full of self-loathing.

“Because you did what no one else could – or would – do. You’re a hero.”

Snape sank back against the sofa. “A hero who murders his best friend. Whoop. De. Do.”

“Severus…”

“Don’t!” Snape glared at him. “Some things shouldn’t be forgiven. Ever.” He rose unsteadily to his feet. “Tea?”

“Tea would be grand. Some toast, too?”

Snape left the room without speaking, and Remus sat staring at the fire.

~~

Remus was rolling up yet another pair of black socks when Snape returned with a tray of toast, tea things and a pot of marmalade. He set them to the side and poured two cups of tea. Remus took his mug, set it out of the way and reached for Snape. Cradling Snape’s face in his hands, Remus kissed him, slowly and tenderly.

“I love you.” Remus whispered the words against the thin lips as Snape withdrew.

“I know that, you daft bugger.” Snape spread marmalade on a slice of toast and handed it to Remus. He scowled at Remus as he waited patiently. “And yes, I do like hearing it.”

Remus smiled, taking a big bite of toast, then wiping the sticky goo off his chin with a finger.

“You have disgusting eating habits.”

Remus leaned forward to press his gummy digit against Snape’s mouth. “Suck.” The soft command was growled into Snape’s ear. He felt a deep shiver go through Snape’s body; the exhaled breath was almost a moan as Snape’s lips yielded and he sucked greedily on Remus’ finger.

“Easy now.” Remus nuzzled under the fall of dark hair and nibbled Snape’s ear. “We have more socks to sort.”

“Cock tease,” Snape growled as he sipped his tea.

Remus smiled as the mood once more relaxed into an easy warmth.

~~

Remus sat with his hands in his lap, staring at the socks.

“They’re not going to sort themselves.”

Remus’ hands twitched, but otherwise he didn’t move. Snape went on plucking socks out of the pile, seemingly oblivious to the pair that lay on top. “I’m not sure I want to continue.”

Snape tucked a pair neatly into the drawer. “Like so many things in life, I don’t think ‘want’ has anything to do with it.” When Remus didn’t respond, he stared at the pile of socks, then looked back at his lover’s face. “What are you seeing?” His question was soft.

Remus reached out. For a moment, his hand seemed to shimmer, then he drew it back. In his fist was the pair of plain, grayish socks that had been mocking him. Common though they were, Snape clearly recognized them. They were the same dingy shade as the underpants he had been wearing that June day so many years ago. Remus held them against his belly and leaned forward as hot pain tore at his guts. “I’m sorry.” The whisper was barely audible, but it produced a fierce scowl on Snape’s face.

“So you have said – many times. And each time I have reiterated that I forgive you. This is getting old, Remus. Is my forgiveness not enough for you?”

Remus’ head jerked up. “No. Yes! Of course it is, Severus. It’s just that…. “

Snape’s look became blacker. “It’s just what?” His voice was harsh. “All the principals are dead but you and me.” Remus winced, but Snape went on. “And I have forgiven you. Clearly, you don’t accept my forgiveness and are intent on continuing to punish yourself. Why?”

“I… how could I have just sat there? How could I have let that happen?”

“We’ve been over this, Lupin, and I refuse to go into it again.” He reached forward, lifted Remus’ chin with a gentle hand, and peered into the miserable gray eyes from just inches away. When he spoke, his voice was a low growl. “Let. It. Go.”

Remus stared into the black eyes. “Have you?”

A flash of irritation crossed Snape’s face. “We are not talking about me. The socks didn’t come to me. But yes, I’ve let it go.”

“Have you?” Remus eyes held a challenge. “Have you forgiven them as well?”

Snape jerked back. “No. I have not forgiven your friends.” He spit the word, then sighed. “But I have let go of the hatred. Why do you insist on keeping the incident alive between us? Why do you wish to be miserable?”

Remus blinked, his face slack. Snape leaned in again, this time his hand cradling Remus’ cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear. “You behaved in a way you regret. You’ve been forgiven. It’s in the past, let it go.” His voice was gentle.

Remus reached up to capture Snape’s wrist, turning his face to kiss the palm of the calloused hand. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and released it slowly. “I’ll try.” A wan smile eased the sadness on Remus’ face.

“You’ll do more than try.” Snape gave Remus’ cheek a gentle slap. “You will be vigilant in stopping self-pitying thoughts from creeping in and overwhelming you.” His eyes narrowed. “Agreed?”

Remus’ laugh was a bit watery. “Agreed.” He looked at his scowling partner shyly. “Can I have a hug?”

Snape looked put upon. “Are you going to weep on my shoulder? Because if you are, I won’t have it.”

This time, Remus’ grin was real. “I won’t.”

Snape allowed a brief hug before pushing Remus gently away. “Sort.”

~~

The socks were long, made of a fine silk, and green as poison. Snape stared at them with burning eyes and a set face.

“Severus?”

Snape shook himself. “Malfoy’s gift. On my becoming a Death Eater.”

Remus put the pair of socks he’d been rolling aside and sat quietly. For several minutes neither spoke, then Remus broke the silence. “You behaved in a way you regret. You’ve been forgiven. It’s in the past, let it go.”

Snape rounded on him in a fury. “Do not parrot my words back to me! This is hardly the same.”

“Isn’t it?” The tenderness in Remus’ voice made Snape flinch. Remus moved closer to Snape on the floor until their thighs touched. He put an arm around Snape’s rigid shoulders and gently pushed a lock of black hair behind Snape’s ear. “It’s not the words I’m parroting back, Severus. It’s the wisdom, the forgiveness, and the love.” He rested his forehead on Snape’s shoulder and waited.

After several long minutes, Snape shuddered, then with deliberate motions, rolled the socks and placed them in the drawer. “I will do my best.” His voice was gruff.

Remus beamed like a proud parent and Snape’s eyes narrowed. “You know how much I hate that insipid look.”

Remus laughed, but said nothing as he reached into the pile.

~~

Remus stared at the pair of holey black socks, holding them as if they might break.

“Your Sunday socks?”

Remus sniffed. “They were Sirius’.”

Snape stiffened. Several long ticks of the clock passed. “Were you lovers?”

Remus started. Snape had never come out and asked him about Sirius before, never questioned their relationship, and he had never offered information. “No.”

Snape studied him. “Did you love him?” The bald question was asked in a toneless voice.

Remus closed his eyes. He had always evaded such questions, not even answering them directly in his own mind. “Yes.” He was almost surprised to hear the truth spoken aloud.

“He thought you were a traitor.”

“I thought he was a murderer.”

Remus’ eyes remained closed, his body numb but for the ache constricting his heart. The fire sighed and the clock ticked.

“Did you forgive him?” Snape’s voice was almost clinical.

“Yes.”

“Did he forgive you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why have you not forgiven yourself?”

“What?” Remus opened his eyes and blinked at Snape.

“It’s a simple question, though it does seem to be coming up quite a bit: why have you not forgiven yourself?” Snape sounded angry.

“Well… I….”

“You forgave each other,” Snape explained as though to an especially thick student, “yet you have not forgiven yourself? What are you blaming yourself for, anyway?”

Remus flushed. “All those years he was in Azkaban! I should have done something!”

“What?” Snape demanded. “Did he ever assert his innocence? Did you, did anyone, have any reason to believe he was not what he seemed?”

“He was my friend – I should have known!”

“Why?” Snape was really angry now. “Do you think that because you love someone they are not capable of murder?”

“I….” Remus felt as though he’d been slapped.

“Exactly.” He sneered. “Had you believed in him then, would it have made any difference? Would it have released him from prison? Caught the real killer?”

“No, but… but... I could have gone to see him. Twelve years he rotted in that prison thinking he hadn’t a friend in the world! Some things shouldn’t be forgiven. Ever.”

There were several ticks of silence.

“But he still forgave you?”

“Yes.” Remus choked and his voice grew soft. “I… I didn’t deserve it.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Snape’s voice was harsh. “You’re a monster. A beast. You’re not worthy of forgiveness or love.”

The blood drained from Remus’ face as he stared at the socks.

Severus laughed harshly. “And no more am I worthy of forgiveness. I have betrayed those who trusted me, caused untold misery, pain and even loss of life. I killed my best friend, for Merlin’s sake.”

Remus looked up, puzzled. “But…?”

“But we are forgiven, by all but ourselves.” He snorted. “Maybe not all.” He tipped his head back against the arm of the sofa. “A great cosmic joke. Are you sure that dresser never belonged to Albus?”

Remus stared at Snape, not sure how to respond.

“Don’t you see?” Snape’s teeth were bared in a travesty of a grin. He sat up and looked at Remus, his eyes burning with intensity. “Let’s review: who is the most vile, the most undeserving of forgiveness?”

Remus mouth dropped open.

“Is it the former Death Eater? He allowed his Gran to be poisoned. He immersed himself in the Dark Arts.” Snape was ticking things off on his fingers. “He provided information that got a lot of people killed. He tortured. He murdered. He betrayed people who trusted him. He’s an ugly, greasy git who terrorizes children, is rude to everybody, and is currently being totally insensitive to his lover.” He leaned toward Remus and his voice dropped to a purr. “Or, is it the Werewolf? The monster, the savage beast? The hideous creature who was hated by his father and who broke his mother’s heart? The monster who almost killed a classmate? Who allowed the same classmate to be humiliated in front of the entire student body? The faithless friend who didn’t believe his mate was innocent even though the mate never claimed to be? Poor pathetic, sad creatures. They really don’t deserve to live, do they?”

Remus flushed. “I really don’t see…”

“Don’t you? No, of course not. You are too stupid and pathetic a creature to understand, and I am too self-absorbed and cruel to bother trying to explain. Perhaps we should just kill each other?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Damn it, Severus! Have you gone completely ‘round the twist? What are you talking about?”

“You don’t see the joke? The only people who ever mattered to us have forgiven us. Completely and unconditionally. But do we accept this gift and go on? No. We sit and wallow in self-pity, justifying all the awful things that those who don’t matter say about us.”

Remus blinked. He stared at Snape and was rewarded with a real grin.

“You’re pathetic, Lupin. They should lock you up and throw away the key.”

Remus nodded slowly. “Yes. And you should be put to death for your crimes. You have no redeeming qualities at all.”

“None,” Snape agreed. “So. Shall we do the world a favor and kill each other, or shall we put these ‘socks’ away and get on with it – whatever it is?”

Remus frowned. “It would mean letting go of an awful lot.”

Snape nodded. “We might have to learn to look at a few things differently.”

“Is it worth it, do you think?” Remus asked with a smile.

“Worth giving up depression, nightmares, angst and paranoia?” He stared at the ceiling. “Maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe it isn’t safe.”

“Will you be at my side?” Remus cocked his head.

“Always.”

“Then I think it might be worth a try.” Remus smiled shyly, leaning forward to brush his lips over Snape’s. “Where shall we start?”

“With finishing the socks.” Snape sat up, a stern look on his face.

Lupin groaned, then looked at the pile before them. “Severus, look!”

The pile was only a fraction of the size it had been. Snape raised an eyebrow. “I’d say we’re on the right track then.”

Remus nodded and reached into the shrinking pile.

~~

“What the…?” Snape pulled a long black stocking from the last of the jumble.

“Oh, no. Give that here, Severus.”

Snape ignored him, rubbing the soft fabric against his cheek. “Silk! Remus, what haven’t you been telling me?”

“Nothing. Severus, please, it’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Severus drew a second, then a third, fourth, fifth and yes, even a sixth stocking out of the remaining socks. “Three pairs of black silk stockings and you say there’s nothing you’re not telling me?” His voice had an edge to it. “Do you wear these, when I’m not around?”

“No! I don’t.”

Snape drew the sensuous material through his hands, then gave Remus a speculative look. “You might look rather nice in them.”

Remus blushed. “I hardly think so. No. I just… I like the feel of them.”

“Do you use them for wanking? Do I not keep you satisfied?”

Remus laughed. “Satisfied enough I can hardly walk half the time.” He took one of the stockings and let it flow across Snape’s cheek. “I was going to talk to you about them.” He wound one lightly around Snape’s wrist. “I just thought….”

Snape leaned forward, winding his fingers in Remus’ hair and pulling him close. “You thought I might tie you up with them?” He licked along Remus’ jaw line, then bit him lightly under the ear. “You thought I might tie you spread-eagled on the bed, wrap one around your cock and tease you with the other until you whined and begged like the pathetic, needy bastard that you are?”

Remus tipped his head back, baring his throat. “I had rather hoped you would, yes.” His voice was an unsteady gasp.

“Easy now.” Snape gave a rich chuckle. “We have more socks to sort.”

Remus growled and swung himself around, straddling Snape’s lap. “Fuck the socks; fuck me.” He kissed Snape deeply, taking his time exploring every nook and cranny of Snape’s mouth. When he finally moved away, they were both a bit breathless.

“This will only make things worse, you know.” Snape’s voice was slightly strangled.

“How so?” Remus was kissing Snape’s eyelids.

“Well, we’ll never get the socks done, and until we do….”

Remus sat up as if stuck with a pin. “Are you serious?” Snape gave a wicked grin. “You prick.”

“Be nice, Remus, or I won’t tie you up.” The warning was delivered with a laugh. “I want my socks sorted.”

After one look of outraged indignation, Remus moved off Snape’s lap and back to his place beside him. He then grabbed a handful of socks, his hands trembling as he sorted frantically.

Snape leaned over, his voice a purr in Remus’ ear. “You are so hot when you’re frustrated.”

Remus snorted, stuffed the last pair of socks in place and rose, lifting the bulky drawer as he went. Carrying it back to the bedroom, he lined it up on the runners in the dresser and slid it gently into place. Pushing the socks down firmly, he tucked in the toe of the wolf cub socks and slid the drawer shut. His hand lingered for a moment, saying goodbye to old memories, then he turned to his lover, and the making of new ones.

~end~