Ficlet.
I'm digging in my hard drive tonight.

Ficlet. Pretty much gen, but pre-RL/SS if you want. A bit melancholy.




“Happy Birthday, Severus,” he said.

“What?”

Remus turned, one hand balancing a saucer, the other adding the third lump of sugar to his morning tea, and met a pair of almost—startled black eyes. “Happy Birthday. …It is your birthday, isn’t it?”

“What?” he mumbled again, before his sneer managed to resurface. “Yes. Of course.”

“Well, then,” Remus shrugged, “Happy Birthday.”

Severus blinked. “And?”

“And what?”

The Potions master folded his arms. “What is it you want—Lupin?”

The corner of Remus’ mouth twitched upward before he could school his expression back to neutral. Severus really had no idea how funny he was. “Nothing. Just saying—Happy Birthday. That’s all.”

A brow arched imperceptibly.

The werewolf shook his head. “So suspicious.”

“When I’ve got a reason.”

For a moment, Remus thought Severus was going to lunge at him. Until the war ended, all he’d ever seen in the man’s eyes was fury, cold and hot, but now… now, he often seemed tired. Sometimes, he didn’t even bother to snap at students.

It rather reminded him of a wounded dog he'd once seen by the side of the road, snuffling and whining softly into the dust, too broken to twitch its tail and flick away the settling flies.

The taller man did not lunge. He leaned closer and closer until they were nearly touching, nearly—

Severus reached around him and plucked a teacup from the table.

Fathomless eyes stared into his own. “Severus, I…” he began, without knowing what he would say.

“Lupin.”

His breath caught. “Yes?”

“You are blocking the sugar bowl.”

Remus swallowed, nodded, and stepped aside.