Need & Necessity
Title: Need & Neccessity
Author name: Lilith Connor
A/N: this was going to be a smutless fic but what can I say...damn those little smut bunnies, they just won't leave me alone...well, it IS a Fuh-Q Fest...
Remus kicked the door shut and slumped against it, his heart pounding. That had been too close. Too damn close. He shut his eyes, his body stiffening as another wave of agony swept over him, feeling muscles writhe beneath skin and bones and begin to burn. A yelp escaped him as the pain reached its peak; his legs gave out from under him and he crashed to the floor. His whole body shook as it returned to its normal state. He had barely made it out of the Order meeting in time, the attack coming faster and harder than it had before. Remus pulled himself to his feet, swaying as bright dots and shapes danced before him. Feeling too unsteady to keep standing, he staggered over to the bed and sat down, holding his pounding head in shaking hands. He couldn’t cope with this, not now.
Abruptly, the door banged open and quick footsteps announced a visitor. Remus no longer needed to look up to know who had entered the room; at this moment, the mental barrier between him and the wolf was tenuous at best and his lupine senses were in overdrive.
“This is not a good time, Severus. I’m not feeling very well,” Remus managed with a semblance of politeness. The other man’s presence was filling his head and he could do nothing to stop it, the wolf cataloguing and filing the combination of scents that emanated from the Potions Master.
“I know what’s wrong with you.” Remus looked up, but Severus had misplaced his customary sneer and merely glowered. “I know what’s happening right now, and I know what’s going to happen if it’s not stopped.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Remus said, trying to sound neutral and failing. Damn the man. Unfortunately, Severus was qualified – indeed, overqualified for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position he so desperately coveted and was practically a werewolf expert. Severus did not deign to respond to Remus’ blatant lie, and continued as if Remus had not spoken.
“You might be happy planning your death in some spectacularly mawkish fashion, but I cannot allow you to jeopardise the Order for your own selfishness.”
“It’s my choice,” Remus said quietly but clearly. “No one else is trying to interfere.”
“No one else knows,” Severus snapped and Remus made no reply, feeling the truth in the pointed words.
Most wizarding folk had a sketchy knowledge of werewolves, knowing only the basics covered in school, and the common myths perpetuated by the Ministry. It wasn’t surprising then, that no one – or so Remus had assumed – had paid any attention to his declining health after Sirius’ death. They had been sympathetic and kind, prepared to give him all the time he needed to mourn his lover, yet they had largely left him to his own devices. The way he had fled their company had no doubt been dismissed as a symptom of his grief, leaving them oblivious to the far darker truth.
Werewolves are not by nature solitary creatures. They share most of their nature with the natural wolf, save the bloodthirsty madness that results from their creation as victims of a Dark curse. Though the wizarding communities shun them, they are compelled to seek out a pack – a family. A mate.
The werewolf was fully grown when Remus hit puberty, yet it had not become sexually mature until Remus was in his early twenties. By then, he and Sirius were a confirmed couple, sharing a house and generally accepted by their friends. As the wolf became adult, it had desired a mate and had swamped Remus’ mind, driving him crazy with lust, until he figured out that to the wolf, Sirius was not yet claimed as his.
Remus hated the wolf for that, for reducing all his love to a simple sexual need. It felt no emotion for Sirius, or Padfoot, merely reflecting Remus’ desire.
But now Sirius was gone.
The wolf, heedless of love and grief, was healthy and young; it knew nothing but the need for another mate, for another living being to have for its own. Usually, the mass of instinct and primal drives that passed through its mind slept behind the barriers in Remus’ consciousness. He was aware of it, but it had no impact on his thoughts or feelings. But with the loss of his mate, the wolf was stirring, watching behind Remus’ eyes and straining at the mental wall that kept it from taking what it wanted.
Remus knew what would happen if those barriers broke.
Madness. A homicidal rage. The loss of his humanity.
If the wolf broke Remus’ mind before the full moon, his body would be unable to change. It would try, the pain spurring the deranged creature that bore his face onto greater acts of insanity and violence, but would fail, causing the Dark curse to turn inward and rip his body apart.
The conflict between his human side and the wolf was already wearing his body down; every time the wolf tried to surge forward he fought it, and his body twisted in torture. The wolf did not want this in any way, and there was a simple way to prevent it; choose another mate and his sanity would be restored. But how could he take another lover, mere weeks after Sirius’ death?
Remus forced himself back to the present; Severus was still talking.
“We cannot afford another loss. We are too few as it is, and much as I loathe to inflate your ego any further, you are vital to our success.”
“My attempts to mediate with the other werewolves are hardly that important.”
“No, but your other role is.” Harry’s name hung unspoken in the air and Remus felt a pang of guilt; Dumbledore had made it clear that he expected Remus to take over for Sirius in keeping an eye on Harry’s welfare, and that Harry would need him very much over the next few years. Severus continued, uncannily in tune with Remus’ thoughts.
“My personal feelings aside, I know how important that boy is is. He is the only one who matters. We all know the prophecy – in the end it will all come down to him. So he must survive to bring down Voldemort. And he needs you. Right now he’s coping by blaming me, as usual, but in time he will have questions that only you can answer. You are his only link to his parents and his godfather.”
Remus remained silent, hating the truth of what Severus was saying. “So while it may be…difficult…for you, you must take another mate. If it will help soothe your precious conscience, remind yourself that you do not have to love your mate. Choose anyone who catches your eye and stirs the monster, reminding yourself of your true human love for Black.”
The harshness and contempt stung Remus and he bared his teeth, realising as he did so that the wolf was perilously close to the surface. Why was it still prowling in his mind – what kept it here, for this pointless conversation?
“I loved Sirius – I still love him. I would not betray him for a passing attraction,” he snarled, furious with Severus for forcing him to face the circumstances. What right had Severus, of all people, to lecture him on what was best for Harry and the Order?
“This is not about betrayal. This is about necessity. Surely you are attracted to someone.” The tone was scathing and Remus felt the wolf rise in challenge and made himself meet Severus’ oddly intense eyes.
“Yes, but -”
The rest of the sentence was choked off, as in one fluid moment Severus leant forward and kissed Remus hard, one hand holding his face in place, while the other snaked between his legs and began to rub. The roiling mass of lust and need that was barely contained in Remus’ mind swamped him and he responded instinctively, feeling himself harden as he accepted the kiss and began to return it – God, the man was a good kisser, where the hell had he learned how to kiss like that? – and for a heartbeat he was losing himself in the feel of lips and tongue and long hair brushing his face…
“No! No!” What remained of his sanity asserted itself and he jerked his head back, pushing Severus off him. The taller man stumbled slightly but remained upright, now looming over Remus. Severus’ expression was unreadable; Remus could feel the heat in his own face and was painfully aware of how hard he was.
“Lust is a matter of stimulation,” Severus said curtly, as if he were reading from a textbook. “Obviously, your need is great enough to override any moral sensibilities.”
Remus just stared, his thoughts too jumbled to focus properly.
“Why, Severus? Why you?”
“He took you from me once! I will not let him take you out of this world!”
The passion in the statement surprised both men but Remus most of all. He knew the shock was plain on his face as his mind raced – when? When?
Fifth year. It had to be. James and Severus had hated each other from the start, a pure instinctive loathing that could not be helped. But Sirius – yes, they had disliked each other but it was more on principle. Severus disliked him for betraying his blood, for being a Gryffindor and not a Slytherin, for having everything his family lacked and wanting none of it. In turn, Sirius disliked him for being everything he wasn’t, for being the kind of son his mother would have wanted, and also because James hated him. But then, something had happened. Seemingly out of the blue, the dislike between Severus and Sirius had exploded into utter loathing, almost overriding the hatred between him and James, leading to the terrible incident at the full moon. Remus had never known what had happened between them. It surely couldn’t have been him?
Abruptly, those black eyes bored into his and Remus could see the passion in the depths. The wolf leapt forward, smelling the lust and sensing that here was a possible mate, here was someone who was a worthy successor to Sirius. The man in Remus screamed no, there was too much history, too much pain. How could he mate someone who had hated Sirius that intensely? Because the hate came from jealousy. He wants you, the wolf replied. Remus’ sensibility was drowning beneath the need, he craved a touch upon his skin and the heat of another against him…
Severus, perhaps sensing the advantage, knelt between Remus’ legs to look up into his face. Remus was shivering, his face flushed; his erection strained at the confines of his trousers. Severus gently undid the fastening of the trousers, eyes fixed on Remus’ face. To Remus, his own breathing thundered in his ears as Severus bent and flicked his tongue over the swollen head. He moaned, frantic and his control broke; he pulled the startled man from his knees and dragged him onto his lap, pulling at the voluminous robes angrily, he needed to see and touch and taste the flesh…
The dark haired man pulled away and Remus growled. Dark eyes flashed at this raw passion and Severus stripped quickly, throwing his robes on to the bed. Somewhere in his mind Remus noted the rips in the fabric with shock, but the rest of him was too caught in the sight before him to think of much at all. However, Severus was in no mood for exhibitionism and returned swiftly to Remus, removing as much of his clothing as he could before he was yanked back into a surprisingly strong embrace and a desperate kiss. Severus pushed Remus back, so he was lying on the bed and crouched over him, kissing and licking every bit of skin he could find. Remus felt the hardness against his hip and shifted his hand to Severus’ cock, sliding over the stiff shaft, desire spiking as Severus’ hips jerked forward in response. Black eyes met amber and Severus sat upright, reaching for a small vial concealed in his robes. Remus moaned as Severus coated his aching cock in whatever the viscous liquid was – he had this planned, the bastard, he knew this would happen – and knelt over Remus, legs spread wide.
As Severus began to lower himself onto Remus, his rationality made one last attempt to assert itself and Remus caught him, shaking his head. Severus stilled, then leant forward, long fingers tracing Remus’ lips.
“Don’t think. Just don’t think,” he said softly and took Remus into himself. Remus shut his eyes as he was enveloped in heat and tightness, panting as Severus ground against him, his whole body thrilling at the rightness of the feeling. There was no finesse or sweetness in this, just raw, animal need, Severus crying out every time Remus hit his prostate, Remus stroking Severus’ cock hard and fast in time with in his own thrusts. The wolf swarmed into his mind as he began to thrust harder and faster, growling and snarling as the sensation built within him and he came violently, nails digging into Severus’ back, a brutal howl escaping from him. The wolf, suddenly dominant, bared its fangs and bit down on the exposed flesh of Severus’ neck, breaking skin and tasting blood, feeling the throb of life as Severus climaxed, as the wolf claimed its mate and was made whole.
Sated, the beast retreated to dormancy and Remus came back to himself, closing his eyes in an agony of shame and grief. He felt the thin fingers brush away his tears.
“It had to be, Remus. It had to be.”
Remus opened his eyes and saw genuine sorrow.
“But it didn’t have to feel so right,” he said with a sob and broke completely. Severus pulled him forward, so Remus’ head was resting against his chest, and did his best to comfort him. Hope sparked in those dark eyes then, that now the bond between them was made, it might in time become something more than mere necessity.
He might yet master the wolf.