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Flashback - Blog Posts
Oh no. The flashbacks are setting in.
Can ya'll guess which one's faceless?
Had my first PTSD flashback that I actually knew was a PTSD flashback. For the past like, 2 years, I've been having these random panic attacks where images of bad things that have happened to me pop into my head and feel so realistic.
Somehow I didn't realize it, but those are definitely actually PTSD flashbacks. And I didn't figure that out until last night, when I had the first big one I've had since I got diagnosed. Then it all clicked and I realized that like, half my panic attacks have actually been caused by PTSD flashbacks. So now I know I definitely filled out a few questions wrong on the questionnaire.
What Attack?
Prepare for the Onslaught
Rrëmêmbêãrr zê ãttâck?
There it was again. What attack? It all flushed back into my mind in an instant. I was there again.
'...Survive' She yelled. I ran out back. Suddenly she started crying 'Leave me be, please. I don't want to die' 'Like I give a shit. It's all on the king's orders' Hahahahaha
That laughter. I knew it from somewhere. She started screaming. Louder and louder. You could feel her pain in those screams.
I turned around and ran. Ran to the forest. I didn't turn back anymore, I just ran. Ran for my life, hoping I never have to feel the pain I heard in those screams
Picture Burning House by Nemo-Li
Music Prepare for the Onslaugt by Epic Score
© The Zero 零 Squad, 2013-2016
Here is chapter 6!
Chapter 7 comes out Tuesday!
Chapter 4 is a little early today since I couldn’t sleep.
Chapter 5 comes out friday!
CW: Flashbacks, ptsd mention, past trauma mention, Whumpee guilt
Whumpee sees their face in the bathroom mirror, the overgrown hair, bloodshot eyes, and the bruises that their entire body is covered with.
Just then, some flashbacks from the time they were being tortured come. They remember how the Whumper used to love running their hand through Whumpee's hair.
Suddenly, Whumpee is possessed by the urge to take an electric shaver and they run it over their hair.
They don't stop until all their soft, beautiful locks are lying in clumps next to their bare feet on the bathroom floor.
When Caretaker walks in and sees this, they take away the shaver from Whumpee, because they don't want Whumpee to hurt themselves by mistake.
Caretaker sets down the shaver and turns to Whumpee.
But Whumpee's eyes are cold and empty.
It makes Caretaker worry about them even more.
"What do you think you're doing!" Caretaker screams at the Whumpee.
Whumpee breaks down and drops to the floor, head in their hands.
In their eyes Caretaker can see the torture they are still mentally going through from their time in captivity.
"Why'd you do that, Whumpee?" they ask.
The Whumpee finally raises their head and looks Caretaker in the eye.
"I just ... I just felt like it."
"Then you should have asked me to do it for you!"
"I wanted it gone now! I JUST FUCKING WANTED IT GONE NOW! So leave me alone!"
Caretaker has never felt so helpless.
They crouch down on the floor and look in Whumpee's eyes.
Eyes that used to be vibrant but are lifeless now.
They place a hand on Whumpee's shoulder and speak in a gentle voice. "It's okay," they say to Whumpee, "I understand. Just please let me know first, next time you want to do that? Okay?"
When they hear this, Whumpee grabs Caretaker and pulls him in a tight embrace, on the wet floor of the bathroom and the Caretaker hugs them back.
"I'm sorry, Caretaker! I'm really sorry! I don't know what comes over me sometimes! I know you were only trying to help!"
So, Caretaker tries to calm Whumpee down. "Hey, just relax okay? You're with me now, Whumpee. You hear? Not Whumper! And you'll get used to it, just give it time. Let your body and your mind heal."
Once the Whumpee has calmed down enough, Caretaker helps them up and they take the electric shaver and use it to properly smooth out Whumpee's hair.
Caretaker then sets down the shaver and helps Whumpee take a shower.
Then, they bring fresh clothes to Whumpee and help put them on.
When the Whumpee is freshly showered and clean, Caretaker can see that they are feeling a little better.
So, Caretaker helps Whumpee to the bed.
They give Whumpee their meds and tuck them in.
"Just get some rest, okay?" They say to Whumpee.
Caretaker leans in and kisses Whumpee's forehead.
Whumpee finally closes their eyes and drifts off, finally feeling at peace.
Happy Valentines to me ^_^;
SO got us tickets to Kris’ s ( of EXO fame) new romance movie. Somewhere Only We Know ...still it was better than "A Good Day To Die Hard"
Severus flinched at the flagrant use of the Dark Lord’s name from little old Potter, no less — who do you think you are?! An old thought that sprang to the top of his mind every time he had the opportunity to be in the arrogant boy’s presence for more than a moment, and thus all the more easily dismissed for it’s recurrence. Potter held himself above the rest, as always, but from the way he carried himself it seemed to Severus he was merely keeping his head above water.
Severus tipped his chin up as he followed Potter to the living room. Shoulders squared and back straight. ‘ Equality is unattainable in the wizarding world. The Dark Lord provides opportunity, which is more than what the Order could say for itself. ’ Severus was a practical man and he took the practical path — in most things. It all fell through in the end for him but being a Death Eater was, and still is, the practical choice.
Severus watched Potter move like every shift pained him. He took mental notes of his observations. He was silent for a long moment after the question was posed, before he sat down on the armchair besides Potter, legs crossed at the knee, and set his bag of brews by his feet. ‘ The process will be a month long, at least, ’ he started. ‘ I’ll administer a potion and spell three times a week. 12 to 24 sessions in total — after that, everything that could be fixed has been fixed. ’ He tilted his head to the side slightly. ‘ Once we begin there can be no delays or breaks. This is a delicate process. The margin for error is very slim. ’
wrongdeor:
Severus didn’t miss the near slip-up, but far from surprised he was bracing for it. He was ready for this to be the most unpleasant encounter Potter could make, and from experience that was a rather tall order but entirely achievable for the twat he knew — what was unexpected instead was the correction. Severus, graciously, pretended not to notice. ‘ Potter, ’ he said in a clipped tone. He nodded in return.
He stepped inside, paused in the entrance hall and turned to look at his enemy patient. With a slanted brow, Severus said, ‘ Surprised? War makes for strange bedfellows, Potter. A halfblood with a muggle name would have more to lose and to gain in this war than a pureblood boy with a trust fund. And what I want hardly overlaps with what I need to do. ’ He jerked his chin towards the injured wrist. ‘ You need that hand to fight, and we need you on the field. Ergo, here I am. ’ He lifted a shoulder, the bag shifting with the movement, vials jostling beneath the fabric. He didn’t respond to whether or not he can cure him. That remained to be seen.
Severus looked at the wizard for a moment. Head tilted slightly to the side. ‘ And I never liked unequal fights, if you recall. ’ That was you, Potter. He nodded down the hall, towards what he believed was the living room. ‘ Lead the way. ’
.
The second Severus opened his mouth, James felt like breaking. That had happened a lot since he’d gotten out of the dungeons and Lily had left him. Little things would make him want to throw something or sob or a mixture of both - like seeing the mug she used to use in his cupboards or watching Garnet snub him as though the cat never even realized he’d been gone. Or, like the other day, when Remus had been visiting him at Mungo’s and said Lily’s name and James had told him to watch his damn mouth as though he’d been called something crude.
But all Severus needed to do was talk in that slow, annoying drawl of his and remind James of all the reasons Lily had broken up with him without even doing it on purpose. Or, knowing Snape, maybe it was on purpose and the wix was just so fucking smart that it hardly sounded that way. “Convenient timing to realize that about yourself,” James said with a new dullness to his voice that hadn’t been there before. His head suddenly felt stuffy like he was holding back tears, but he just ground down his back teeth until it went away. Maybe later he’d curl up with Sirius and let himself cry again, but there was no fucking way Severus Snape would see how much this - Lily, Severus, their friendship, everything - was affecting him.
“Voldemort promotes equality in your little circle of friends?” James quipped back with his eyebrows raised, a mean smirk on his face, using the name intentionally to try and get a rise. He turned and led the way to his living room where a plush maroon couch and two armchairs sat around a coffee table. There was a multi-patterned blanket on the back of one of the chairs. It felt warm in here, despite James’ lack of it.
He gingerly sat on the couch, perching himself forward because leaning back would’ve caused his joints to ache and pain to hiss from between his teeth. Gently, he lowered his wrist to rest against his knee. “So, what kind of process are we lookin’ at?” Severus could kill him, if he wanted to. It would be easy. James would do whatever he was told and, if he were about to be poisoned, he’d have no clue until it happened.
Something wasn’t right, was Moody’s first thought. Something wasn’t right because he’d just vast a quick-healing charm and the blood wasn’t stopping. But, no time to think of that now. He needed to apparate out. If he didn’t they’d –
Two things happened at once. Blood dripdripdripped off Moody’s arms, down his chest, as he stumbled backward. A hand grabbed roughly for his shoulder and then they were gone, the dizziness and the nauseous lurch of an unprepared apparition taking him by surprise. If he’d been of any around mind right now, Alastor would have snapped at the younger wix about being splinched.
Instead, Alastor Moody came out of the apparition and stumbled into an unfamiliar house (not the estate, the woods were wrong and the landing area was different, much like where one could be stretched too thin, like jam across too much toast) in an unfamiliar place (sounds were different, the birds and the creatures outside sounding off like scuttling little things instead of great, gallumping beasts of wizards and witches at all hours of the day and night) and slumped against the wall. When he slides down it, unable to follow behind Snape for fear of falling, there’s a streak of crimson.
“Well. Can’t say ’M all that comfortable,” he rasps out, a shaky laugh, fingers curling unsuccessfully around his bleeding wounds. “Picked up a curse, it seems.”
Severus looked back at the other man’s words. Crimson red painted the wall and dripped a puddle onto the wooden floor. He strode back, knelt beside Moody, and examined the injury that caused the bleeding. A long, crisp line cut from Moody’s chest up to his shoulder. An upward stroke, thinning towards the end, like the tip of a sword. Severus’ lips pressed into a flat, displeased line. ‘ What luck, ’ said Severus. ‘ Don’t pass out before I’m done with you. ’
Then Severus began to sing. The counter to Sectumsempra was something he’d mulled over between books on healing and phoenix tears, the incantation lilting with a soft melody as he passed his wand over the injury once, then again, then a third time. The wounds knit themselves together imperfectly, leaving a long scar behind. The dim white light faded from the tip of his wand as the last syllable did.
He pressed the back of his hand against Moody’s forehead to check his temperature. ‘ Alright, up, ’ said Severus, shifting the other’s arm around his shoulders and hauling him to his feet. Slowly he walked them towards the couch in the living room and laid him down. Severus unbuttoned and discarded his heavy cloak, folding up the sleeves of his shirt as he knelt beside the couch and turned his attention to Moody’s other injuries. ‘ How do you feel? Where else does it hurt? ’ He couldn’t dismiss the image from his mind of Moody standing like a wall against a barrage of curses and spells like he was somehow immune to them. It wasn’t a common sight on missions, at least not before Severus joined the Order and was presented with a range of ridiculous displays of selflessness that were entirely pointless and ill thought out. This was, by far, the most brazen, and the fact that it was on his own account made his stomach turn.
The crack of apparition didn’t come. The seconds marched on: 9, 8, 7 —- Severus turned towards his field partner. Moody was covered in blood and slinging hexes at the enemy, with no signs of slowing down or getting the fuck out of here like he was supposed to — was he delirious? Did he hear a word Severus said? — 4, 3, 2 —-
The translucent dome shivered against the night sky. Severus clapped a hand over Moody’s shoulder, and apparated to the first place he could think of.
The damp air of the forest slid away, a shift of colors and sound. In a blink, they were in the still and dry air of Spinner’s End, where the wards were thick and hostile and the smell of dry wood and hellebore filled their lungs. The fireplace crackled on beneath the sudden silence, unstartled.
Of course, Severus thought with deep bitterness. Of all the places that could spring to mind in a moment of danger it was this. Home.
Still. He supposed it was lucky they sprang into the living room rather than the single bedroom upstairs where he hid when he was little. This was uncomfortable enough as it was. ‘ Don’t get comfortable, ’ he barked at his companion, ‘ We’re leaving. ’ He began his march towards the entrance hall, where the wards wouldn’t rip Moody’s flesh from his bones upon apparating out for daring to intrude. Severus had no intention of performing another Side-Along again, he was rather annoyed with Moody for not apparating out himself the moment he was told to.
wrongdeor:
The trip through the private woods was long and tedious, and completely avoidable had Severus been able to replenish his supply of portkeys in time. He was not very athletic — or at all, really — and felt every unnecessary step they took down the woods with deep frustration and exhaustion. Neither of which he showed to his partner, whom he was sure kept one eye on the enemy and one on Severus himself. This mission was a test, and everything he did was, as always, under scrutiny.
A twig snapped. Severus swiveled around on high alert towards the source of the noise, wand at the ready — the weight of hands on his back and shoulder, a twist of fabric — The ground was swept from beneath his feet. Severus blinked. He only had time to be confused before he slammed against the ground a few yards away with a heavy THUD.
He got back up on his feet cursing and huffing and considerably more annoyed than he was only a moment ago. ‘ Fuck off! You bloody brick! ’ He shouted back at the buffoon that threw him across the fucking field, but he was half turned towards the broken arch, wand in motion, spells at the ready. Wards meant to keep people in were only a hair’s breadth away from keeping people out. Severus reached into the edge, plucked its strings, and cast a spell, the incantation rolling off his tongue like water. A long string of latin whispered in gentle, coaxing tones, and the edge of the safety clearing shimmered and expanded it’s scope until it covered both himself and the Auror a few yards behind. It would keep their enemies outside of the dome. But more importantly, Severus and Moody can apparate out.
‘ NOW, ’ shouted Severus over his shoulder. ‘ We have thirteen seconds! ’ Moody had to apparate first, if Severus left the spell would break and the safety border would snap right back into shape.
@wrongdeor
Alastor probably should have been concerned about how easily Severus was thrown halfway across the field. At the back of his mind, perhaps he was. The forefront, however, was focused on the shadowed figures of who he figured were Goyle and a handful of his cronies coming to see them off. Such sweethearts, they were.
He waited a few beats, listening for Severus, before laughing to himself. A bloody brick, indeed. He had been a beater, after all. It was rather similar, wasn’t it?, protecting your partner from an attack just as you would a teammate? Alastor took a strategic step backward, dodging another hex before tossing off a rather peevish Confrigo, hoping that it stuck and tossed bits of Goyle to Morgana’s tits and back. He continued to toss off attack after attack, keeping the Death Eaters at bay.
Behind him, he could hear Severus muttering, working to undo the wards long enough to, hopefully, get them out sooner rather than later. He was bloody good at it, Alastor knew, which was why Snape had been brought with him. That, and it was a test, but the former was far more important now.
Snape’s shouted command, the detail of thirteen seconds, and Moody’s distinct knowledge that he was the one who needed to apparate first caused him to back almost completely toward his field partner. It also caused, for a split second, the shields to slip. In that moment, a curse ricocheted through, slamming half into Alastor’s chest and the forearms he’d raised in preparation.
Stumbling backward with a grunt, Moody caught himself and threw a stupefy and a finger-removal hex one after the other, snarling against the burning wounds, blood dripping down his arms and his chest.
@asphodelroot
Early January, 1984. Spinner’s End.
The air was damp with the January rain, pouring over the streets of Cokeworth in relentless sheets. The windows of the old house were shut and sealed, the four walls wrapped in wards and heating spells. Brick and mortar didn’t hold magic the way old stone or pine wood did, and so the cold seeped through the cracks as it pleased, slow and unbothered.
When Severus claimed this house after his father’s passing, he’d done so with a bitter heart. He resented needing anything from his father, in life or in death, but by then he was tired of the bare room above the apothecary and had grown wise to the need for distance, for a space beyond the prying eyes of his Master. Thus it came to be that only three years after his dignified march out of Spinner’s End, bursting with pride and purpose, Severus found himself slipping back into his old home, silent as shame, even as the only witness to this humiliation was himself.
And now Lily, too. Who once was witness to all that Severus is and was and could be, thus it seemed fitting that she’d reclaim that role upon re-entering his life.
He set the pot of lentil soup upon the wooden coffee table, along the plate of cut bread, and poured a bowl for himself and another for Lily. They’d spent all morning and afternoon in the library beneath the house, pouring over books and spells as the row of cauldrons sizzled and rolled over a low fire. The scent of hellebore and rosemary drifted up to the living room. The fire crackled on in the quiet room.
He sat on the couch beside her and brought his knees up to his chest. He shook pepper onto his bowl and then lifted the shaker to his friend. ‘ Pepper? Or salt? ’
melancolialunar:
Muggle London did have a false sense of security to it, but unlike Severus, Remus found himself leaning into it, these days. He was the type of man to let himself indulge in the fantasy, even if just for a moment – sure, retreating back to reality ended up being a bucket of cold water, but he was nothing if not used to this sort of muted agony in his life. Perhaps there was something of self-penitence there too, letting himself pretend he could ever be just another bloke sitting at a coffee shop thinking about what he was going to have for lunch, before returning to the ice cold brutality of being a werewolf stuck in the middle of a war.
He watched his companion sit down, making themselves the spitting image of something comfortable, though Remus could imagine that there was some level of tension under their skin. There was no way Severus would trust him so blindly – and they were right, this was the whole point of this encounter.
“That’s exactly why I asked you to meet me, anyway. I mean– old time’s sake.” He echoed, hand idly moving over to wrap around his cup of cappuccino, even though he had no intention of having a sip from it now. It was just something for his hands to do, something he could focus his eyes on, as if the back and forth swirl of the warm liquid required his attention more than the person in front of him.
He cleared his throat, silently cursed the pregnant pause hanging in the air, before turning his eyes back up to Severus in the hopes of not looking like a total coward when he spoke next. “I want to apologise.”
Severus blinked silently for a long and still moment, then hummed curiously, head tilted back. The crackle of anger flared instantly, like a hot sun burst into furious existence deep in their belly. Their jaw tensed with the effort to keep themself contained. ‘ How unexpected, ’ they finally said, when the ringing in their ears settled down some. They leaned forward and picked up a scone in a careless manner, hummed again, elbows on the table, one hand under their chin, thoughtful. ‘ How very surprising, ’ they repeated. A beat of silence. ‘ You think I’ll poison you? Yes? With the wolfsbane? ’ It wasn’t an unappealing prospect. But it was more trouble than it was worth. Severus had long since entertained and discarded the idea, so Lupin’s concerns weren’t completely misplaced, at least. ‘ If that was my intention, Lupin, and this was your attempt to stop me, it was a useless one. And about a decade late, besides. ’
They waved the hand with the scone about with a flourish. ‘ But go on now, ’ they said. Their manner was flippant, but their whole focus was now hefted upon Lupin, the heavy unnamed pressure of being pinned by the eyes of a predator. There was no right answer to what Severus was asking. They watched for something to lunge at, and whatever Lupin said next, they would find it. ‘ Don’t let me stop you! What’ve you got to say for yourself? ’
madeyed-andmoody:
The Goyle estate wards were so easy a toddler could have done them. However, that was not why Alastor had brought Severus Snape with him. No, he’d brought him along because, despite Dumbledore’s assertion that Moody just trust the younger man, Snape still needed to be proven in the field. Thus far, they’d been trustworthy. Thus far, their information had been sound.
Yet something still nagged at the back of Alastor’s mind. It may have something to do with the fact Severus had tried prodding at it every chance they could get. Or, perhaps, the flippancy with which they handled curses and other dark magics - where it was a necessary curiosity for Alastor, one he’d indulged in to learn, Severus’s fascination lay far deeper.
Moody had known Severus would be able to get them the document they’d need from the Goyle estate. He also had his suspicions surrounding the estate and the missing Order members. At the very least, he figured Severus would have an idea.
Without a portkey, Moody and Snape were forced to trudge through the dark and, quite frankly, disturbing woodland. They’d been out for a long while, though the Order knew where they were headed. Both wix were clearly tired, though neither had admitted to the bodily weakness of tiredness. Not in front of the other. And, finally, they had reached the border, the clearing his would allow them to leave just ahead when –
A twig snapped. It wasn’t him, or Snape.
Alastor hunched his shoulders, grabbed fistfuls of Snape’s robes, and tossed him as far as he could - safely, it seemed, behind a broken section of an old arch. Not far enough yet, he noticed as he turned, planting his feet with a snarl, but getting there.
A curse came hurtling toward him from the shadows ahead and Alastor sidestepped neatly, tossing up a protego wide enough to span the opening he was protecting, fishing out his wand as he did. “Snape,” he barked, tossing a look over his shoulder. “Break anything? If not, find us a way out! Now!”
The trip through the private woods was long and tedious, and completely avoidable had Severus been able to replenish his supply of portkeys in time. He was not very athletic — or at all, really — and felt every unnecessary step they took down the woods with deep frustration and exhaustion. Neither of which he showed to his partner, whom he was sure kept one eye on the enemy and one on Severus himself. This mission was a test, and everything he did was, as always, under scrutiny.
A twig snapped. Severus swiveled around on high alert towards the source of the noise, wand at the ready — the weight of hands on his back and shoulder, a twist of fabric — The ground was swept from beneath his feet. Severus blinked. He only had time to be confused before he slammed against the ground a few yards away with a heavy THUD.
He got back up on his feet cursing and huffing and considerably more annoyed than he was only a moment ago. ‘ Fuck off! You bloody brick! ’ He shouted back at the buffoon that threw him across the fucking field, but he was half turned towards the broken arch, wand in motion, spells at the ready. Wards meant to keep people in were only a hair's breadth away from keeping people out. Severus reached into the edge, plucked its strings, and cast a spell, the incantation rolling off his tongue like water. A long string of latin whispered in gentle, coaxing tones, and the edge of the safety clearing shimmered and expanded it’s scope until it covered both himself and the Auror a few yards behind. It would keep their enemies outside of the dome. But more importantly, Severus and Moody can apparate out.
‘ NOW, ’ shouted Severus over his shoulder. ‘ We have thirteen seconds! ’ Moody had to apparate first, if Severus left the spell would break and the safety border would snap right back into shape.
@madeyed-andmoody
Flashback. January 1984.
If Severus was honest with himself — and just himself, mind! — he didn’t expect a Goyle-made ward in a private country-side property to give him any trouble. And it didn’t, it took only twenty-five seconds for the net of magic to snap under pressure, tearing a hole wide enough for him and his ill-fated partner-in-crime to slip through. Past spellfire, shouts and curses, and out into the fields of thorn apples and blue-green rues. But that was twenty seconds longer than it should have taken. Severus will remember that, and when they had time to dwell — which they didn’t at the moment — they will do just that.
The forest and fields surrounding the property were warded against Apparition, and Severus hadn’t replenished his supply of portkeys in nearly a month. He and Moody trekked through woodland blindly in the dark for an hour before they finally reached the border. ‘ We’re almost there, ’ Severus said, nodding ahead. ‘ Just behind the stone arch up ahead. ’
perniciouspotter:
James had been released from Mungo’s three days prior and had spent nearly every waking moment with Sirius since then. The day after his return home - well, to Godric’s Hollow, which was apparently his home now because the Estate had been sold and his flat with Lily was no longer his in the same way she was no longer his - he’d pulled out a bottle of Odgen’s wordlessly looking at Sirius for confirmation that his friend would get drunk with him. It was a bad idea - he was still on pain potions daily for the ache in his joints and the excruciating burning in his wrist - but he didn’t care.
The alcohol mixed with the potions had hit him hard and he’d spent the evening barely coherent, sobbing tears that wracked his body, rambling to Sirius about losing Lily and the dungeons and Remus and Peter and how everything was fucking fucked! Which is maybe why, hungover and bruised in his body and heart, when Rosier had come knocking the day after with a possible solution, James had hardly taken even a minute before he agreed.
Of course, it had to be Snivellus. Fucking Snape, who had conveniently reappeared back in their lives the moment James had left it. James had learned of Severus’ deflection to the Order while still in Mungos - had heard about his remerging friendship with Lily laying in the hospital bed. The day he’d learned it, he’d purposefully turned his wrist over and over again until the pain had caused him to scream out the way he’d been aiming for and the healers gave him something stronger and he’d fallen blissfully asleep.
But he needed Severus, even if he didn’t want to admit it. His wrist had been bothering him since that flower had peaked out and he could no longer use a wand. His non-dominant hand was shit with magic and they were still in a bloody war. So, on the very last day of the month, James opened up his door to Severus Snape and didn’t openly scowl at him. “Sniv - “ he began, old habits dying hard, but he adjusted it quickly. “Snape.” He jerked his head and stepped aside, allowing Severus into his home. “So… you can cure me,” he continued, his tone even, almost monotone. “I’m surprised you want to. Don’t wanna go for the final punch when I’m already down? Why, maybe you actually have grown since school.”
Severus didn’t miss the near slip-up, but far from surprised he was bracing for it. He was ready for this to be the most unpleasant encounter Potter could make, and from experience that was a rather tall order but entirely achievable for the twat he knew — what was unexpected instead was the correction. Severus, graciously, pretended not to notice. ‘ Potter, ’ he said in a clipped tone. He nodded in return.
He stepped inside, paused in the entrance hall and turned to look at his enemy patient. With a slanted brow, Severus said, ‘ Surprised? War makes for strange bedfellows, Potter. A halfblood with a muggle name would have more to lose and to gain in this war than a pureblood boy with a trust fund. And what I want hardly overlaps with what I need to do. ’ He jerked his chin towards the injured wrist. ‘ You need that hand to fight, and we need you on the field. Ergo, here I am. ’ He lifted a shoulder, the bag shifting with the movement, vials jostling beneath the fabric. He didn’t respond to whether or not he can cure him. That remained to be seen.
Severus looked at the wizard for a moment. Head tilted slightly to the side. ‘ And I never liked unequal fights, if you recall. ’ That was you, Potter. He nodded down the hall, towards what he believed was the living room. ‘ Lead the way. ’
@perniciouspotter
Flashback. February 1984.
Severus rapped brisk and loud knuckles against the wooden door. In the last few years following graduation he’d expected to run into Potter again — neither of them made their allegiance a secret, especially not from each other. And they, sworn enemies from the moment they met to the very end, were set on a collision course and picking up speed. How could Severus not anticipate a crossing of paths?
Current circumstances were laughably different from what he’d anticipated before. Instead of the violent encounter he was itching to have, a clock ticking downwards in his mind counting towards this meeting, Severus shifted a bag of healing brews against his shoulder. Waiting almost politely at his enemy’s front door to be let in. With every intention to do the opposite of causing harm.
He nodded in greeting as the door clicked open. ‘ Potter, ’ he said in the least hostile tone he used since he was 11. ‘ You were informed of the reason for my visit? ’ Of course he was. It would be rather difficult if he wasn’t. But Severus had run the meeting in his mind several times over and this was the best he could come up with.
So did I, Severus thought but didn’t say aloud. They had a busy schedule. They kept up with many duties at once. When the werewolf invited them for coffee they dismissed the idea out of hand, but as they found themself free this afternoon (what a coincidence! How often did a hole in their schedule appear unannounced?) they threw on an old pair of jeans and a shirt, their feet taking them down familiar London streets before they fully realized what they were doing. Or rather, why they were doing it.
The last time they properly set foot in the muggle world was so long ago Severus couldn’t place it accurately. Despite this, they merged into the comfortable flow of foot traffic as seamlessly as they would if they’ve never left. The difference between London’s streets and the silent, furtive shuffle of Diagon’s was unsubtle. It was like the war had disappeared behind them, as real as a troubling dream upon waking. Severus disliked spending more time here than they absolutely had to. Juxtaposed with this comfortable illusion of safety, the reality of their everyday life reimposed itself tenfold.
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Dropped his gaze to the table instinctively, then looked at the werewolf, at the hand gesture. Fine, he thought, dragging the metal chair back to take a seat. Fine, then he motioned for the waiter to get him his own coffee (black, no milk, no sugar) and sat down.
He crossed his legs at the knees. Leaned back, elbow resting over the back of the metal chair. He fought the urge to fiddle with his silver earring. ‘ I almost decided this was a joke, ’ he said, the corner of his lips lifted in a smirk. ‘ One last cheap shot for old times’ sake. I haven’t ruled that out yet, just so you know. ’ He watched the werewolf silently, hand close to his wand. Waiting. Wary, but an ever-present anger moving beneath the surface. ‘ What’s this about? ’
WHEN: sometime shortly after Severus joined the order WHERE: muggle coffee shop CLOSED for @wrongdeor
Remus Lupin is not a man of many regrets. In fact, blinding Gryffindor as he is, he’d rather puff out his chest and act like a massive dick, saying he’s never done any wrong, rather than admit to some things he’d like to change in his past. But there are things. Pride sits high up in his chest and refuses to let the words form on his tongue on most days, but he has things to apologise for. In particular, the one time he was, in fact, a monster.
He’s never been proud of hurting people; every time he’s lashed out at his friends through the years, every time the full moon has made its home amongst the stars and some greater evil within him has tried its best to tear apart his friendships, he always crawls back and begs for forgiveness the morning after. He’s not a monster, he doesn’t want to be. Except the one time he is, the one time he’s done one of the worst things he could do, he hides behind his friends and doesn’t think about it ever again. There are layers upon layers of denial that sit atop of whatever foggy memory he has of the prank. He felt used by his friend, like a killing machine upon a leash; he felt inhuman for the first time in years; he was a monster who had nearly killed someone. It was easier to push all of it away, deal with none of it, and act like it didn’t happen.
It felt like that, until Severus joined the Order. Seeing them more often made the lump in Remus’ throat grow, the guilt and the resentment flooding up his brain until it was a headache he couldn’t get rid of, an ever present ache he was fighting against. He isn’t a man of many regrets, yes, but he’s not going to walk around like a coward, barely able to meet Severus’ eyes. So he sets up a meeting.
“I thought you weren’t gonna show up.” He greets, when Severus finally arrives. There’s a scone forgotten on his plate and a half-empty cup of some overpriced cappuccino concoction in front of him. He blinks up at the other, almost as if dumbfounded by their presence, before he gestures to the seat across from him. “Please."
Flashback to 2020 (tw depressive rant)
So, I’m pretty tired with myself today…
I’m so fucking lonely here you know?
No one around to talk to, everyone doing their own things?
It’s stupid…
Why can’t I love someone like how I love myself?
Am I that fucking insane to do something like that?
I guess I am…
I’m so fucking lonely…
I don’t hang out with many people anymore because of COVID….
I miss my old friends so much that I forget I even exist…
I think about people all the time that I become a completely different person.
It’s stupid.
It’s dumb.
It’s crazy what you do for love.
I know you will all be reading this and think, “What the fuck is this shit?”
I don’t know what I am either…
I’m just the chaos and the calm…
The sun and the moon…
Forward and backwards….
I’m everything people want to be and don’t want to be…
I’m the person that could help you or hurt you….
I am the person that talks to everyone or stays in the shadows…
I am myself…
I am not myself…
I am something I’m not…
Something not human…
Something not myself…
What even am I?
Why am I here?
Why do I even exist?
I don’t need to exist… at all!
Fuck me! I don’t give a shit!
Leave me alone for once!!!
I hate myself so fucking much!!!
I’m worthless!
I’m nothing.
I’m nothing without her.
I’m nothing without him.
I’m nothing without them.
I’m nothing.
I am nothing to no one…
And now I'm done with this...
This mask of a smile I've worn for so long...
It's gone...
The mask of happiness for my friends and families to see...
For the happiness I've falsely felt for an enternity...
Slam my fist in the wall.
Throw some shit and give me a call.
I'll scream at you for however long I feel like.
How are you doing?
How are you doing?
Are you bleeding like me?
Are you hiding behind a mask like me?
A mask like mine?
Are you here?
Are you surrounded by your own peers?
Are you looked down on or looked up to?
Are you still trying to be the version of yourself everyone thought you were a year ago?
Are you still faking those smiles?
Are you burning the horrible memories, that made no one trust you anymore?
Are you lying to people that don't deserve it?
Can you stop, cause I am far too gone?!
I need to stop and listen.
I need to do this, evenly.
I am a giant wave crashing into the shore line.
I am myself.
I am not.
I am the calm and the chaos.
I need help, but no one ever listens because, they have their own issues.
They have no time for you, it's true.
Leave them behind and don't go running back to them or they will hurt you more....
Or maybe not...
Maybe they're something more.
Like a soulmate or friend....
Maybe I should reach out to them for help...
Can I reach out for help?
Myself in 2020, not in the right headspace.
End of a convo in 2020.
“yeah, this is super long and I don't even know why I am typing this to a person that I've never met face-to-face online... but who cares, right? Like shit, I've been through shit and all of my friends, in real life and online, have been through some serious shit, and I've kind of been going along with it and try to help them and shit.... heh... like shit, this is a very long response, sorry for the wait...”
Myself in 2020
this entire sequence was honestly some of the best cinematography I’ve ever seen??
buy it here
Lavender’s birthday (1/2)