Entry tags:

all fanfic, apocrypha, hp fanfic, james/snape, slash

FIC: Apocrypha - Verse I
Title: Apocrypha
Chapter: Part One of Seven
Pairing: James Potter/Severus Snape (Remus/Sirius implied)
Rating: NC-17 (on the whole)
Words: 1,272
Warnings: Angst.
Summary: Two can keep a secret, if one of the two is dead.
A/N: Written for caretta's Squicky Pairings Challenge. Many, many thanks to darkasphodel for the encouragement and incredibly patient hand-holding.

For satinvalkyrie, my kindred spirit in Norse Mythology and fandom opinions, because the world needs more rarepair fic where everyone is unstable and everything is wrong.

Apocrypha

::

Verse I
None for One and One for All

When Severus walks into the Library, it is full.

Students are crowded around every table and desk, their heads bowed quietly over their work. Severus is immediately displeased. He had come upstairs from the dungeons in the hope of escaping other students, though he supposes he shouldn't be surprised. There are still two days of OWLs, and OWLs are enough to force the most dedicated slackers from their normal routine.

Even Crabbe and Goyle are present, sitting with Nott and Rosier at a desk that is really meant for two, and Severus suspects neither of them have set foot in the Library since the tour Madam Pince gave during first year.

He considers leaving, but decides to stay, because returning to the dungeons is not an option. While there are less people downstairs, the Library is quiet, something that cannot be said about the dungeons. The Slytherins from other years seem to be celebrating the mere fact that they do not have OWLs, as loudly and obnoxiously as possible.

And he needs to study, because he has Charms tomorrow. Charms is easily his worst subject, but his parents are expecting an O, regardless.

He lingers in the doorway for a moment, casting about for a vacant seat. Eventually, he spies one at the rear of the Library, tucked in a far corner, against the divider that separates the Restricted Section from the Library proper. The desk is small, and the area is poorly lit, but it is secluded, and more importantly, empty, and Severus is in no position to be picky.

Severus passes the other Slytherins as he heads towards the back of the Library. They do not acknowledge him, but that suits Severus just fine. He doesn't want to study with that lot, and would not, even if he was invited, even if there was a chair available and space enough to do so.

Halfway to the desk, he notices that it is actually occupied, by a single person sitting in the shadow of the divider. Severus is not of the mind to share, but he keeps moving, hoping it is some hapless Hufflepuff he can bully out of the area.

He takes a few more steps, then freezes, his lip curling in distaste.

It's Lupin, slouched low in his chair with a book in his lap, his tie loosened and his robes unbuttoned. Open books are stacked on the desk, enough books, Severus realizes, for four people, and his legs are propped up on an adjacent chair in a way that says he means to stay a while.

And, Lupin is not alone. Pettigrew is on the other side of him, sitting practically on top of him, reading over Lupin's shoulder and writing furiously on a bit of parchment. His hair is tousled in a horrid mockery of Potter's infamous style, and his round face is contorted with concentration, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Severus is almost wondering where Black and Potter are when Black appears, emerging from the stacks as if Summoned. He's in more of a state than Lupin; his robes are nowhere in sight, his tie is unknotted and his sleeves are rolled up to the elbow. He pulls out the chair across from Lupin, dislodging Lupin's feet, then turns the chair around and straddles it, smiling at Lupin in a way Severus is sure is meant to be charming.

Suddenly, Potter is there as well, seeming to materialize out of nowhere. He strips off his robes before he sits, tossing them absently to Pettigrew before settling in the chair next to Black. He takes up a book at Lupin's prompting and opens it, but ignores it in favour of whispering with Black.

Severus wants to leave, but he can't make his legs work, like he is trapped in a spell he wants no part of. So he watches, watches Potter cuff Black in the head and Black charm Lupin's quill to dance, watches Lupin tutor Pettigrew and Pettigrew break into a wide smile at the smallest, offhand compliment from Potter.

And he hates them, hates them for their arrogance and surety, for the way they strut and make much of themselves, hates them for who they are and what they represent.

Potter, the king, lording over his subjects, even in a small, half-forgotten table in the back of the Library. Black, the handsome, charming knight, swooping in on his broomstick to lure simpering girls from their boyfriends. Lupin, the counsellor, securing his place by keeping Potter and Black in good grades. Pettigrew, the fool, the jester, earning his keep by putting a smile on his lordship's face.

And he hates them, because they are everything he despises, because they are everything he is not and everything he wants to be.

Severus starts to turn; he needs to leave before he is seen, but it is too late, Black is already looking at him, his face dark and his eyes icy and hateful. Fear settles cold in Severus' stomach and he hates himself for it, hates himself almost as much as he hates them. So he stays, forcing himself to return Black's stare, telling himself they cannot harm him and get away with it in the Library.

Black doesn't turn away or speak, but Potter looks up, as if he can read Black's mind. His gaze is as cool as Black's, but it lacks true hatred. It is flat and bored and disinterested, as if hexing Severus in Library where no one will see is simply not worth the time or energy.

And that infuriates Severus, infuriates him more than Black's malevolence. He can accept Black's hate, because the feeling is more than mutual, but Potter's apathy stings and burns worse than any hex or curse.

Severus reaches for his wand, not caring that he is in the Library. He wants to make Potter scream, wants to make him hurt and ache and feel. Potter sees this, but he doesn't stand or go for his wand. He doesn't have to; Black is already up, his chair slamming into the desk as he jumps to his feet. Black is in front of Severus with his wand at the ready before Severus even gets a hand in his pocket.

Black glares at Severus, daring him to move or pull his wand, but Potter just watches, as if the entire thing is a show for his benefit. Pettigrew and Lupin are watching as well, Pettigrew's expression is a poor copy of Potter's, but Lupin's is blank and unreadable. Severus sees something in Lupin's eyes that could be pity, and it only makes Severus hate more, his insides turning to ice.

There is a long moment where no one moves, where everything is slow and silent and almost unreal. It's broken by Lupin, who sighs heavily, closing his book with a snap and tossing it on the table.

"Sirius," he says, quietly, his tone just above a whisper.

Black looks back, glancing at Lupin over his shoulder, and they stare at each other for nearly a minute. No words are exchanged, but some kind of conversation takes place, because Black shrugs and puts his wand away, and walks over to right his chair.

Once Black is seated, Lupin twists around in his chair, facing Severus as if he means to speak. Severus never gives him the chance, whirling around before Lupin even opens his mouth, because he doesn't want to hear it, any more than he wants to see the pity in Lupin's eyes, any more than he wants to look at Lupin's prefect's badge, mocking him as it catches the feeble torchlight.

Verse II

J