westernredcedar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
westernredcedar) wrote2007-08-22 09:55 pm
westernredcedar) wrote2007-08-22 09:55 pm
FIC: Twelve Nights, or You Will What? (ACT IV of V)
Title: Twelve Nights, or You Will What?
Act: IV
Author: Cedar
Summary: Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night", set in slashy post-war Potter AU.
Quote: “Professor Snape, thank god,” said Draco. “Get me out of here. It is dark and it smells of elf. I think I’ve been misunderstood.”
Characters/Pairings: Snape/Lupin, amongst others. Dramatis Personae is at the end of the post. Um, this is very slashy.
Challenge: written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
shakes_that_fic fest
Rated: R for the finished fic, R for this Act
Warnings: AU, but canon-compliant to HBP (in other words, lots of people dead in DH are alive here, and vice versa), discussion of off-screen character deaths, slash, lots of booze (it's Shakespeare, people)
Word count: 4,000 in this Act, approx. 20,000 in completed fic
A/N: Thank you to the fabulous![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dizilla for being a wonderful, thoughtful beta. blpaintchart is on vacation, so this Act is un-brit-picked for now. Expect revisions when she returns, and apologies if I am ever glaringly American. Eep. :) She's back, and has corrceted my American-ness! Thanks Darlin'!
Here are links to Act I, Act II and Act III
During the confusing aftermath of Viktor Krum’s arrest, the fight between Ginny and Bill was put on hold. Bill wandered back towards the house, looking dazed, and Ginny, Fred, and George sat down in the park to discuss what had happened. Each of them had a different memory of the events, but all of them agreed that Viktor Krum looked quite dark and rather dashing, that the arrest had seemed fair, and that it was very odd that Viktor had pretended to know Bill.
The three siblings returned to the house and reconvened in the kitchen.
“Um, Ginny?” said Fred, once they had settled down and opened a beer.
“Yes.” She seemed calmer, but her wand still lay out on the table.
“You were really something out there.” Ginny smiled. “But, well, wasn’t the idea that Harry would watch your duel with Bill?” he asked.
Ginny’s face paled. “I forgot,” she said.
“We noticed,” George replied, and ruffled her hair. “You were really in the moment, though.”
“I want to finish it,” she said, knocking his hand away, her fingers touching her wand, “with Harry watching.”
The twins exchanged a glance and grin.
“I’ll watch for Bill,” said Fred, “ and when I see him, I’ll give a shout. When I do, George, you run upstairs and get Harry. In the meantime, you can get started again with him, Ginny.”
“That sounds perfect,” Ginny said, taking a long draw on her beer.
* * *
Bill had taken his time getting to 12 Grimmauld Place. Although part of him felt ready to see his family, another part remained terrified of what he would find, so after leaving Viktor, he walked a rather circuitous route rather than apparate to the front door.
He turned into Grimmauld Square and the old house appeared for him, just as it had since Dumbledore told him of its location. He took it as a good sign that it must not have changed hands, might still be the headquarters of the Order. It looked quiet, although Bill thought he saw a brief movement in the first floor window.
He intended to stand across the street and watch for a bit, to see who came and went, who was living there. He leaned against a tree on the edge of the park and crossed his arms to wait. Almost immediately, though, he heard raised voices that seemed to be coming from the direction of the house. The front door burst open and Bill’s heart leaped when he saw who emerged.
“Ginny!” he called, his voice tight. He began walking across the street towards her. They were there, his family. He felt buoyant and light-headed, tears welling up in his eyes. “Fred!” They were so close, after so long. He picked up the pace. “Hey!”
Something was wrong. They were not smiling at him, or shocked to see him, or any of the reactions Bill expected. Instead, Fred was shouting, “How should I know how he got back outside?” and Ginny was holding her wand in a dueling grip, pointed right at him.
“What are you…?” Bill started to say, but he found himself hit with a silencing spell, followed in short order by a body bind. He was stuck upright on the pavement just outside the door to the house.
Ginny approached him, narrowed eyes glaring.
“Stay put. Harry will be down in just a moment, and I want him to see this,” she said, and with a flick of her wand, Bill felt the body bind tighten. It was hard to breathe. Struggling was pointless, but he tried anyway, to no avail. What was happening?
Trapped there, he looked at his siblings, baffled. Ginny had grown-up so much, tall and thin, her long red hair pulled back in a braid, her face angular. Fred also looked older, a bit broader and stockier than he remembered, freckles absolutely everywhere, eyes just like their mother’s. He couldn’t believe it was really them. What were they doing to him?
Ginny’s wand swiped through the air and Bill felt the silencing spell release it’s hold.
“Ginny…” he blurted, but she interrupted.
“You didn’t think you would get off that easy, did you?” she asked him.
“What are you talking about? Ginny? Fred? It’s me,” Bill said. “I’m here.”
“Thanks for reporting on the world’s most obvious fact, Bill. Oh, by the way, I’m here, too,” said Fred with a snort.
“I don’t understand what is going on. Is Charlie here? Or Mum and Dad?” asked Bill.
“No, why would they be here?” said Ginny, rolling her eyes. “No one is here to rescue you from your little sis this time. You and your damn silky hair…”
She raised her wand just as the front door to the house opened again, and two more people came out onto the landing. Bill, Ginny and Fred looked up to see who had joined them.
Bill choked back his frustration. “George!” he exclaimed, thrilled to see another brother alive and well, even in his current predicament, “and Harry, is that you?”
Harry’s eyes swept the scene. “What in the hell are you doing, Ginny?” he shouted, as he dashed down the stairs muttering Finite Incantatum, releasing Bill from the body bind and stepping between him and Ginny. “Bill, I’m so sorry, are you all right?”
As the spell ended, Bill fell against Harry, who draped an arm around his back to hold him up.
Ginny had fallen silent and dropped her wand hand to her side in the face of Harry’s obvious anger. “Harry, I was just…” she stuttered, eyes down.
“Well, don’t, whatever it is you were doing. Stay away from me, and away from Bill,” said Harry with a fierce look and Bill felt himself being ushered up the steps on Harry’s insistent arm.
“Harry, it was my idea,” called Fred from the doorway. “Don’t blame Ginny!”
Harry pushed Bill ahead of him up the stairs. “Where are we going…? I don’t want…” but Bill couldn’t get his thoughts together enough to even know what he wanted to ask. He looked back towards his siblings, standing forlorn on the step, watching them go.
“What is going on?” he asked Harry at last.
“Let’s just get you somewhere where you can sit down,” said Harry.
Bill let himself be led up the stairs. Harry’s arm was tight around his shoulders.
They reached the upper floor and entered a pleasant sitting room filled with comfortable chairs and sofas. Harry guided Bill to a large sofa and sat him down, then took a seat across from him.
Bill caught his breath and looked at Harry. He looked good, older, tougher even. Harry had been a boy when Bill last saw him, an awkward boy who stared at him with admiring eyes, but rarely spoke in his company, always hiding out with Ron. The past few years had thinned out his face, sharpened his features. In appearance he looked ten years older, not two. The green eyes staring at him in concern were pained beyond their years. Bill found the stare disquieting in its intensity.
“I’m here, Harry,” he said. “I came back.”
“You’re here.” Harry’s voice was soft with innuendo. “You were fighting for me.”
“For you? Do you know why Ginny attacked me…?” he asked, but that thought was drowned out in the fact that Harry had leaned in and was kissing him, rather passionately, his hands cradling his cheeks.
Bill pulled away from the kiss. “What are you doing?” he asked. He knew he should be shocked at this unexpected turn of events, except that his body was not cooperating with his brain. He had not been touched in over two years, his skin electrified at the kiss, and Harry was lovely, and hell, he was kissing him again.
This kiss was longer and deeper, probing tongues and teeth, and Bill felt his body flush with desire. “This is crazy, Harry, I should try to see Ginny, settle all that,” he said, but his hands were running through Harry’s dark hair, pulling off his glasses. “I’ve just arrived, I have to…”
“She isn’t going anywhere,” said Harry, touching his lips to Bill’s throat.
“This is crazy,” Bill said again, even as he felt the last ounce of common sense drift away in the feel of greedy hands unbuttoning his shirt and soft lips drifting along his collarbone.
“You came back to me. That is all that matters,” murmured Harry into Bill’s skin and Bill melted backwards into the sofa, letting go, all others forgotten.
* * *
Severus received the owl from Kingsley in the late afternoon. Another Death Eater had been captured.
I wish for you to preside at an initial hearing, Severus. We will transport the accused to Headquarters at ten tomorrow morning. Expect us then. Kingsley
Severus stared out the window and wondered who had been caught now.
* * *
Hermione was running out of ideas. She’d had no idea that Draco would go along with “Harry’s” wishes for so long. Every time he seemed to hesitate at one of her demands, she dropped a quick word about telling Harry that he had quit, and he complied again in a moment.
Hermione told Draco that she thought he might be under a house elf spell, and ordered him to do some household tasks to break the charm. So far Draco had cleaned out the freezer, scrubbed the downstairs toilet, dusted and polished all of the house elf heads, mended Fred’s ripped cloak, tidied up Kreacher’s slag heap, thanked Kreacher personally for all of his hard work, and made Hermione a sandwich. He continued to protest that he was not under a spell, but nonetheless followed her every directive with effort, as the letter had instructed him. She was starting to feel a bit guilty. She knew Draco liked Harry, but didn’t know he liked him this much.
“Draco!” she snapped. He looked up from his knitting, yellow cap askew.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Into the cupboard,” she said. She needed Fred and George to help get her out of this prank. Draco needed to be out of the way while they figured out what to do.
“The cupboard?” he asked, deep furrows on his brow.
“Kreacher’s. Right there. Just stay put until I come to get you.”
Draco gave her a skeptical look. “I thought you were supposed to be helping me break the ‘spell’ I’m under, Granger,” Draco said.
“That’s what I’m trying to do, Draco,” she replied. “I’m just going up to Harry to get his advice on what else to try.”
“To Harry?” Draco asked, and his eyes lit up just a bit. The guilt that had started to eat at Hermione took an enormous bite.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, grabbing his yellow arm and leading him to the small, dark room.
“Why can’t I wait in the kitchen?” asked Draco, but Hermione couldn’t think of an answer to that, and just closed the door on him, casting a quick locking spell. She could hear Draco pounding on the cupboard door and shouting as she sprinted up the stairs to find Fred and George.
The twins and Ginny were sitting on the stairs near the second floor landing. They all looked glum, and Ginny’s eyes were swollen as if she had been crying.
“What’s happened?” Hermione asked, concerned.
“Harry’s an insensitive prat, and we hate Bill,” summarized George, giving Hermione a weak smile.
“I have a problem, if you would like a bit of a distraction,” said Hermione. “If you are up for it, I really need you. It’s about Draco.”
All three Weasley faces looked at her in interest. Ginny sniffed and wiped at her eyes.
“How’s the giant canary doing? We’d forgotten about him,” Fred said.
“Well, he has been very cooperative in doing every menial task I can think of for him to do, and shows no sign of quitting.” George let out a whoop and Fred and Ginny both grinned. “It’s pathetic, though, and the guilt is starting to get to me. He’s so sincere,” said Hermione.
George gave her shoulder a playful punch. “Softy,” he said.
“Maybe, but I need your help to get out of the joke. How shall we do it?” she asked.
“We need someone he trusts to convince him that he has been under a spell and that he should return to himself, as long as he is a bit kinder to Harry’s friends from now on,” said Fred.
“Draco doesn’t trust anyone but Harry, and we can’t tell Harry what we’ve done,” said Hermione.
“Well, that’s not entirely true, there is one other person he trusts,” said Ginny, “someone George can impersonate brilliantly, I believe.”
George’s brows rose. “You don’t mean…?” he asked.
“Snape, George. He’ll listen to Snape,” said Ginny.
* * *
Bill woke wrapped up in the warmth of someone else’s body. For a moment, he could not remember where he was, or who he was with, until he brushed his hand along Harry’s back and the previous hours came back to him in a rush. He groaned and stretched, feeling the pleasant ache of his body. It had been well used.
Harry’s rooms had a small balcony that looked out over the neighborhood. Bill wanted some fresh air, and a moment to think. He eased away from Harry, who was still sound asleep, drained from their exertions, wrapped himself in Harry’s discarded robe, and walked out into the cool dusk.
This is the air, he thought, and that is the moon, and this is the ring Harry gave me. He twisted the gold band on his finger. This is real, although it seems mad.
It had been well over two hours. Viktor would be worried. He and Bill had arranged a signal if they ever became separated. He found his wand in his discarded clothing, and sent off the signal towards The Leaky Cauldron, in hopes that Viktor would be reassured that he was safe.
Dark clouds had descended low in the sky, blocking the moon, and the wind was picking up. A first few drops of rain splashed against his warm skin. It was the first rain he had felt in two years. The tentative drips turned into a downpour, and Bill stood on the balcony, face to the sky, letting the cool rain soak him, rinse him clean. He was truly free, and home. He smiled and returned to the warm body waiting in the bed for him.
* * *
George didn’t bother to change or disguise himself, as they had decided “Snape” would talk to Draco through the door to Kreacher’s cupboard.
The four collaborators held a long conference in the twins’ room about what Snape should say to Draco. They were well lubricated by gin and lager as George practiced his Snape impression until it flowed easily off his tongue. It had been years since he had infamously fooled McGonagall into dropping his detention over voice-only floo using his Snape’s impression, and his imitation was still quite accurate.
When they sneaked back into the kitchen, there was no sound coming from the locked closet. Fred shoved George forward, and Hermione and Ginny gestured for him to get going.
George crept to the door and knocked.
“Who is there?” Draco’s voice was panicked.
“It is I, Severus Snape,” said George in a deep, dramatic tone, and shot a ridiculous smirk at the other three, who all covered their mouths to stop their laughter.
“Professor Snape, thank god,” said Draco. “Get me out of here. It is dark and it smells of elf. I think I’ve been misunderstood.”
“I have been told you may be under a spell,” drawled George. “I am here to assess your safety.”
“Professor, please ask Harry. He can explain all of this. I’m doing this for him. It’s not a spell,” said Draco, voice sincere. He was convinced. The imitation was working.
“Can you explain your improbable behavior this morning?” asked George. “I can come up with no theories, from my vast cranium, except that you are under a spell.”
Hermione mouthed, “Vast cranium?” and almost broke up George, but he kept his composure.
Draco’s voice was quiet but pleading. “Please, sir, believe me, I only need to speak with Harry and this will all make sense.”
“It will be best for all of us if you stay isolated for the evening while I conduct a series of tests around the house for signs of foul play. You may be contagious,” said George.
“Contagious? No! You are leaving me in here?” said Draco.
“Just for the evening. Hermione Granger is very worried about your sanity, Draco. She has your very best intentions at heart. When all of this is over, I hope you thank her for all of her efforts on your behalf, along with her friends.”
Hermione was waving her arms and shaking her head, trying to stop George.
“If it gets me out of here, I’ll marry Hermione Granger, sir, but I am not under any spell.”
“That remains to be determined, Draco,” said George, and they could hear a dramatic sigh from behind the door.
“Could I have parchment and a quill, to write a note to Harry?” asked Draco.
George looked to his companions for advice, a panicked expression on his face. Ginny and Fred shrugged, and Hermione opened a drawer and removed the requested items.
“Very well, Mister Malfoy,” said George, each syllable drawn out slowly. His imitation was beginning to get a bit over the top.
“You sound like Dracula,” mouthed Ginny. George grimaced and pushed the quill and parchment under the door.
“Thank you, Professor,” said Draco.
“I will return in the morning with the results of my tests,” said George.
“Fabulous,” said Draco, and the familiar sneer was back in his voice. “I’ll just curl up on these elf rags then….”
“Good night, Draco,” said George, and, desperate to escape before breaking into laughter, the four conspirators dashed from the kitchen and ran up the stairs.
* * *
Remus woke up to the sound of the wind banging the shutters against his window. The evening had turned grey and stormy, and his mood had followed. After the duel with Ginny and the bizarre appearance of Viktor Krum, he had retreated to his rooms to hide, his mind reeling from the events of the day.
Every night, Remus locked his door and pushed a chair under the doorknob. The polyjuice wore off while he slept, and he could not risk someone accidentally stumbling in on Remus Lupin snoring in Bill Weasley’s bed. He kept a small vial of polyjuice within reach, just in case, and allowed his body to settle back into itself, scars and all. Like loosening dress robes after a formal occasion, it was always a relief.
He relished this time alone with his own body. He slept better in his own skin. Transforming once a month had been challenge enough. The extended use of polyjuice was exhausting to his already tormented physique. The full moon was a week away.
Being alone with his body also reminded him that he was just that-- alone.
Rising into the cool night air of his room to latch the shutter, Remus noticed the house was completely silent. He was struck by a crushing sense of isolation. In this enormous house full of people, he was utterly alone. No one even knew he was here, not really.
Severus was only two doors away.
It was late, so late it was early. Remus couldn’t face his empty bed. He leaned against his door for several minutes, heart pounding, his heightened hearing sensing no signs of movement. He held an internal debate for several minutes before nodding to himself and turning the lock.
Remus pushed open his door, peered out, and then crept on his bare feet down the hallway to Severus’s rooms. His door squeaked, but not loud, and Remus slid through and closed it behind him. He took a moment to marvel at how much Severus had mellowed since the end of the war, so much so that he would leave his bedroom door unlocked.
Severus had latched the shutters to his room tight, and it was very dark. Remus stood still, trying to control his rapid breathing, and allowed his eyes time to adjust. After a few minutes, he could just make out a lanky shape under the white sheets. Severus had always been one to take over the bed if given a chance, lying on his back and stretching his long limbs in odd diagonals that made fitting in beside him a challenge. The utter familiarity of his sprawled body on the bed was like a punch in the gut.
He only intended to look, to see Severus with his own eyes, not Bill’s, but somehow Remus found himself approaching the bed and then lying down in the small empty space next to Severus, being careful not to touch him or disturb the bedding. The smell of Severus surrounded him, and he drank in his hard, careworn face as he slept. Just for a minute, he told himself.
A gust of wind pounded by the window. Severus groaned at the noise and rolled over, his arm flopping onto Remus. He settled back to sleep.
Remus felt he might dissolve into the mattress. Severus’s face was inches from his, his arm a warm pressure. He could feel his deep, even breaths, see every dark eyelash. If he reached his fingers out, he could touch his wide lips.
Somehow, thinking about it meant doing it, and his fingers trailed across the rough mouth. The stray arm tightened around him and the sleeping Severus whispered, “Lupin,” in his dream voice, that old midnight voice that was only for him.
Hearing his name demolished Remus’s last ounce of control. His lips followed his fingers, against his will, just a light touch, just a taste, and when Severus shifted and moaned and was suddenly, aggressively kissing him back, Remus wasn’t able to stop. His body wouldn’t obey. He wanted the kiss to go on and on, needed it to. His hands tangled in Severus’s hair, pulled him closer. Severus’s eyes remained closed, his body pliant. He was not really awake.
There was no way to know where the moment would have taken them, but a blast of wind rattled the shutters and jarred Remus back to himself. He didn’t know where he got the will to break off the kiss, huffing and terrified and madly in love, but he did, and then threw himself off the edge of the bed, making an enormous thump. He held still, hidden from view on the floor.
The thump woke Severus from his state of half-sleep, and he let out a breathy shout. Remus could hear his heavy panting, could imagine the confused and dazed look on his face as he surveyed the empty bed.
“Lupin,” he said quietly, to the air. “Remus.”
Somehow, Remus was able to remain still and quiet as Severus rolled over and his breathing slowed back into sleep. He crept out of the room and lay in his bed, wide-awake all night, listening to the wind.
* * *
In the morning, as he woke, Severus automatically reached towards his bedside table for the green stone he had kept there for the past two years.
It was gone.
His eyes snapped open and he glanced around the room, the memory of his dream vivid. He could almost feel the warm lips on his, sense the rough hands in his hair, smell the musk and sweat of the wolf. He’d thought he was past all of this, had moved on.
Moved on. That thought reminded him where the stone was now.
“Potter.”
He wanted the stone back, immediately. His heart thudded in his chest. He needed to speak with Bill.
Link to Act V
Notes: As a few have requested it, if you want to read a summary of Twelfth Night, here is a link. The full text of the play is available on-line at Project Gutenberg.
Dramatis Personae
Orsino- Severus Snape
Viola- Remus Lupin
Olivia- Harry Potter
Sebastian- Bill Weasley
Sea Captain- Charlie Weasley
Antonio- Viktor Krum
Maria- Hermione Granger
Sir Toby Belch/Feste- Fred and George Weasley
Sir Andrew Aguecheek- Ginny Weasley
Malvolio- Draco Malfoy
Act: IV
Author: Cedar
Summary: Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night", set in slashy post-war Potter AU.
Quote: “Professor Snape, thank god,” said Draco. “Get me out of here. It is dark and it smells of elf. I think I’ve been misunderstood.”
Characters/Pairings: Snape/Lupin, amongst others. Dramatis Personae is at the end of the post. Um, this is very slashy.
Challenge: written for the
shakes_that_fic festRated: R for the finished fic, R for this Act
Warnings: AU, but canon-compliant to HBP (in other words, lots of people dead in DH are alive here, and vice versa), discussion of off-screen character deaths, slash, lots of booze (it's Shakespeare, people)
Word count: 4,000 in this Act, approx. 20,000 in completed fic
A/N: Thank you to the fabulous
dizilla for being a wonderful, thoughtful beta. blpaintchart is on vacation, so this Act is un-brit-picked for now. Expect revisions when she returns, and apologies if I am ever glaringly American. Eep. :)Here are links to Act I, Act II and Act III
During the confusing aftermath of Viktor Krum’s arrest, the fight between Ginny and Bill was put on hold. Bill wandered back towards the house, looking dazed, and Ginny, Fred, and George sat down in the park to discuss what had happened. Each of them had a different memory of the events, but all of them agreed that Viktor Krum looked quite dark and rather dashing, that the arrest had seemed fair, and that it was very odd that Viktor had pretended to know Bill.
The three siblings returned to the house and reconvened in the kitchen.
“Um, Ginny?” said Fred, once they had settled down and opened a beer.
“Yes.” She seemed calmer, but her wand still lay out on the table.
“You were really something out there.” Ginny smiled. “But, well, wasn’t the idea that Harry would watch your duel with Bill?” he asked.
Ginny’s face paled. “I forgot,” she said.
“We noticed,” George replied, and ruffled her hair. “You were really in the moment, though.”
“I want to finish it,” she said, knocking his hand away, her fingers touching her wand, “with Harry watching.”
The twins exchanged a glance and grin.
“I’ll watch for Bill,” said Fred, “ and when I see him, I’ll give a shout. When I do, George, you run upstairs and get Harry. In the meantime, you can get started again with him, Ginny.”
“That sounds perfect,” Ginny said, taking a long draw on her beer.
* * *
Bill had taken his time getting to 12 Grimmauld Place. Although part of him felt ready to see his family, another part remained terrified of what he would find, so after leaving Viktor, he walked a rather circuitous route rather than apparate to the front door.
He turned into Grimmauld Square and the old house appeared for him, just as it had since Dumbledore told him of its location. He took it as a good sign that it must not have changed hands, might still be the headquarters of the Order. It looked quiet, although Bill thought he saw a brief movement in the first floor window.
He intended to stand across the street and watch for a bit, to see who came and went, who was living there. He leaned against a tree on the edge of the park and crossed his arms to wait. Almost immediately, though, he heard raised voices that seemed to be coming from the direction of the house. The front door burst open and Bill’s heart leaped when he saw who emerged.
“Ginny!” he called, his voice tight. He began walking across the street towards her. They were there, his family. He felt buoyant and light-headed, tears welling up in his eyes. “Fred!” They were so close, after so long. He picked up the pace. “Hey!”
Something was wrong. They were not smiling at him, or shocked to see him, or any of the reactions Bill expected. Instead, Fred was shouting, “How should I know how he got back outside?” and Ginny was holding her wand in a dueling grip, pointed right at him.
“What are you…?” Bill started to say, but he found himself hit with a silencing spell, followed in short order by a body bind. He was stuck upright on the pavement just outside the door to the house.
Ginny approached him, narrowed eyes glaring.
“Stay put. Harry will be down in just a moment, and I want him to see this,” she said, and with a flick of her wand, Bill felt the body bind tighten. It was hard to breathe. Struggling was pointless, but he tried anyway, to no avail. What was happening?
Trapped there, he looked at his siblings, baffled. Ginny had grown-up so much, tall and thin, her long red hair pulled back in a braid, her face angular. Fred also looked older, a bit broader and stockier than he remembered, freckles absolutely everywhere, eyes just like their mother’s. He couldn’t believe it was really them. What were they doing to him?
Ginny’s wand swiped through the air and Bill felt the silencing spell release it’s hold.
“Ginny…” he blurted, but she interrupted.
“You didn’t think you would get off that easy, did you?” she asked him.
“What are you talking about? Ginny? Fred? It’s me,” Bill said. “I’m here.”
“Thanks for reporting on the world’s most obvious fact, Bill. Oh, by the way, I’m here, too,” said Fred with a snort.
“I don’t understand what is going on. Is Charlie here? Or Mum and Dad?” asked Bill.
“No, why would they be here?” said Ginny, rolling her eyes. “No one is here to rescue you from your little sis this time. You and your damn silky hair…”
She raised her wand just as the front door to the house opened again, and two more people came out onto the landing. Bill, Ginny and Fred looked up to see who had joined them.
Bill choked back his frustration. “George!” he exclaimed, thrilled to see another brother alive and well, even in his current predicament, “and Harry, is that you?”
Harry’s eyes swept the scene. “What in the hell are you doing, Ginny?” he shouted, as he dashed down the stairs muttering Finite Incantatum, releasing Bill from the body bind and stepping between him and Ginny. “Bill, I’m so sorry, are you all right?”
As the spell ended, Bill fell against Harry, who draped an arm around his back to hold him up.
Ginny had fallen silent and dropped her wand hand to her side in the face of Harry’s obvious anger. “Harry, I was just…” she stuttered, eyes down.
“Well, don’t, whatever it is you were doing. Stay away from me, and away from Bill,” said Harry with a fierce look and Bill felt himself being ushered up the steps on Harry’s insistent arm.
“Harry, it was my idea,” called Fred from the doorway. “Don’t blame Ginny!”
Harry pushed Bill ahead of him up the stairs. “Where are we going…? I don’t want…” but Bill couldn’t get his thoughts together enough to even know what he wanted to ask. He looked back towards his siblings, standing forlorn on the step, watching them go.
“What is going on?” he asked Harry at last.
“Let’s just get you somewhere where you can sit down,” said Harry.
Bill let himself be led up the stairs. Harry’s arm was tight around his shoulders.
They reached the upper floor and entered a pleasant sitting room filled with comfortable chairs and sofas. Harry guided Bill to a large sofa and sat him down, then took a seat across from him.
Bill caught his breath and looked at Harry. He looked good, older, tougher even. Harry had been a boy when Bill last saw him, an awkward boy who stared at him with admiring eyes, but rarely spoke in his company, always hiding out with Ron. The past few years had thinned out his face, sharpened his features. In appearance he looked ten years older, not two. The green eyes staring at him in concern were pained beyond their years. Bill found the stare disquieting in its intensity.
“I’m here, Harry,” he said. “I came back.”
“You’re here.” Harry’s voice was soft with innuendo. “You were fighting for me.”
“For you? Do you know why Ginny attacked me…?” he asked, but that thought was drowned out in the fact that Harry had leaned in and was kissing him, rather passionately, his hands cradling his cheeks.
Bill pulled away from the kiss. “What are you doing?” he asked. He knew he should be shocked at this unexpected turn of events, except that his body was not cooperating with his brain. He had not been touched in over two years, his skin electrified at the kiss, and Harry was lovely, and hell, he was kissing him again.
This kiss was longer and deeper, probing tongues and teeth, and Bill felt his body flush with desire. “This is crazy, Harry, I should try to see Ginny, settle all that,” he said, but his hands were running through Harry’s dark hair, pulling off his glasses. “I’ve just arrived, I have to…”
“She isn’t going anywhere,” said Harry, touching his lips to Bill’s throat.
“This is crazy,” Bill said again, even as he felt the last ounce of common sense drift away in the feel of greedy hands unbuttoning his shirt and soft lips drifting along his collarbone.
“You came back to me. That is all that matters,” murmured Harry into Bill’s skin and Bill melted backwards into the sofa, letting go, all others forgotten.
* * *
Severus received the owl from Kingsley in the late afternoon. Another Death Eater had been captured.
I wish for you to preside at an initial hearing, Severus. We will transport the accused to Headquarters at ten tomorrow morning. Expect us then. Kingsley
Severus stared out the window and wondered who had been caught now.
* * *
Hermione was running out of ideas. She’d had no idea that Draco would go along with “Harry’s” wishes for so long. Every time he seemed to hesitate at one of her demands, she dropped a quick word about telling Harry that he had quit, and he complied again in a moment.
Hermione told Draco that she thought he might be under a house elf spell, and ordered him to do some household tasks to break the charm. So far Draco had cleaned out the freezer, scrubbed the downstairs toilet, dusted and polished all of the house elf heads, mended Fred’s ripped cloak, tidied up Kreacher’s slag heap, thanked Kreacher personally for all of his hard work, and made Hermione a sandwich. He continued to protest that he was not under a spell, but nonetheless followed her every directive with effort, as the letter had instructed him. She was starting to feel a bit guilty. She knew Draco liked Harry, but didn’t know he liked him this much.
“Draco!” she snapped. He looked up from his knitting, yellow cap askew.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Into the cupboard,” she said. She needed Fred and George to help get her out of this prank. Draco needed to be out of the way while they figured out what to do.
“The cupboard?” he asked, deep furrows on his brow.
“Kreacher’s. Right there. Just stay put until I come to get you.”
Draco gave her a skeptical look. “I thought you were supposed to be helping me break the ‘spell’ I’m under, Granger,” Draco said.
“That’s what I’m trying to do, Draco,” she replied. “I’m just going up to Harry to get his advice on what else to try.”
“To Harry?” Draco asked, and his eyes lit up just a bit. The guilt that had started to eat at Hermione took an enormous bite.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, grabbing his yellow arm and leading him to the small, dark room.
“Why can’t I wait in the kitchen?” asked Draco, but Hermione couldn’t think of an answer to that, and just closed the door on him, casting a quick locking spell. She could hear Draco pounding on the cupboard door and shouting as she sprinted up the stairs to find Fred and George.
The twins and Ginny were sitting on the stairs near the second floor landing. They all looked glum, and Ginny’s eyes were swollen as if she had been crying.
“What’s happened?” Hermione asked, concerned.
“Harry’s an insensitive prat, and we hate Bill,” summarized George, giving Hermione a weak smile.
“I have a problem, if you would like a bit of a distraction,” said Hermione. “If you are up for it, I really need you. It’s about Draco.”
All three Weasley faces looked at her in interest. Ginny sniffed and wiped at her eyes.
“How’s the giant canary doing? We’d forgotten about him,” Fred said.
“Well, he has been very cooperative in doing every menial task I can think of for him to do, and shows no sign of quitting.” George let out a whoop and Fred and Ginny both grinned. “It’s pathetic, though, and the guilt is starting to get to me. He’s so sincere,” said Hermione.
George gave her shoulder a playful punch. “Softy,” he said.
“Maybe, but I need your help to get out of the joke. How shall we do it?” she asked.
“We need someone he trusts to convince him that he has been under a spell and that he should return to himself, as long as he is a bit kinder to Harry’s friends from now on,” said Fred.
“Draco doesn’t trust anyone but Harry, and we can’t tell Harry what we’ve done,” said Hermione.
“Well, that’s not entirely true, there is one other person he trusts,” said Ginny, “someone George can impersonate brilliantly, I believe.”
George’s brows rose. “You don’t mean…?” he asked.
“Snape, George. He’ll listen to Snape,” said Ginny.
* * *
Bill woke wrapped up in the warmth of someone else’s body. For a moment, he could not remember where he was, or who he was with, until he brushed his hand along Harry’s back and the previous hours came back to him in a rush. He groaned and stretched, feeling the pleasant ache of his body. It had been well used.
Harry’s rooms had a small balcony that looked out over the neighborhood. Bill wanted some fresh air, and a moment to think. He eased away from Harry, who was still sound asleep, drained from their exertions, wrapped himself in Harry’s discarded robe, and walked out into the cool dusk.
This is the air, he thought, and that is the moon, and this is the ring Harry gave me. He twisted the gold band on his finger. This is real, although it seems mad.
It had been well over two hours. Viktor would be worried. He and Bill had arranged a signal if they ever became separated. He found his wand in his discarded clothing, and sent off the signal towards The Leaky Cauldron, in hopes that Viktor would be reassured that he was safe.
Dark clouds had descended low in the sky, blocking the moon, and the wind was picking up. A first few drops of rain splashed against his warm skin. It was the first rain he had felt in two years. The tentative drips turned into a downpour, and Bill stood on the balcony, face to the sky, letting the cool rain soak him, rinse him clean. He was truly free, and home. He smiled and returned to the warm body waiting in the bed for him.
* * *
George didn’t bother to change or disguise himself, as they had decided “Snape” would talk to Draco through the door to Kreacher’s cupboard.
The four collaborators held a long conference in the twins’ room about what Snape should say to Draco. They were well lubricated by gin and lager as George practiced his Snape impression until it flowed easily off his tongue. It had been years since he had infamously fooled McGonagall into dropping his detention over voice-only floo using his Snape’s impression, and his imitation was still quite accurate.
When they sneaked back into the kitchen, there was no sound coming from the locked closet. Fred shoved George forward, and Hermione and Ginny gestured for him to get going.
George crept to the door and knocked.
“Who is there?” Draco’s voice was panicked.
“It is I, Severus Snape,” said George in a deep, dramatic tone, and shot a ridiculous smirk at the other three, who all covered their mouths to stop their laughter.
“Professor Snape, thank god,” said Draco. “Get me out of here. It is dark and it smells of elf. I think I’ve been misunderstood.”
“I have been told you may be under a spell,” drawled George. “I am here to assess your safety.”
“Professor, please ask Harry. He can explain all of this. I’m doing this for him. It’s not a spell,” said Draco, voice sincere. He was convinced. The imitation was working.
“Can you explain your improbable behavior this morning?” asked George. “I can come up with no theories, from my vast cranium, except that you are under a spell.”
Hermione mouthed, “Vast cranium?” and almost broke up George, but he kept his composure.
Draco’s voice was quiet but pleading. “Please, sir, believe me, I only need to speak with Harry and this will all make sense.”
“It will be best for all of us if you stay isolated for the evening while I conduct a series of tests around the house for signs of foul play. You may be contagious,” said George.
“Contagious? No! You are leaving me in here?” said Draco.
“Just for the evening. Hermione Granger is very worried about your sanity, Draco. She has your very best intentions at heart. When all of this is over, I hope you thank her for all of her efforts on your behalf, along with her friends.”
Hermione was waving her arms and shaking her head, trying to stop George.
“If it gets me out of here, I’ll marry Hermione Granger, sir, but I am not under any spell.”
“That remains to be determined, Draco,” said George, and they could hear a dramatic sigh from behind the door.
“Could I have parchment and a quill, to write a note to Harry?” asked Draco.
George looked to his companions for advice, a panicked expression on his face. Ginny and Fred shrugged, and Hermione opened a drawer and removed the requested items.
“Very well, Mister Malfoy,” said George, each syllable drawn out slowly. His imitation was beginning to get a bit over the top.
“You sound like Dracula,” mouthed Ginny. George grimaced and pushed the quill and parchment under the door.
“Thank you, Professor,” said Draco.
“I will return in the morning with the results of my tests,” said George.
“Fabulous,” said Draco, and the familiar sneer was back in his voice. “I’ll just curl up on these elf rags then….”
“Good night, Draco,” said George, and, desperate to escape before breaking into laughter, the four conspirators dashed from the kitchen and ran up the stairs.
* * *
Remus woke up to the sound of the wind banging the shutters against his window. The evening had turned grey and stormy, and his mood had followed. After the duel with Ginny and the bizarre appearance of Viktor Krum, he had retreated to his rooms to hide, his mind reeling from the events of the day.
Every night, Remus locked his door and pushed a chair under the doorknob. The polyjuice wore off while he slept, and he could not risk someone accidentally stumbling in on Remus Lupin snoring in Bill Weasley’s bed. He kept a small vial of polyjuice within reach, just in case, and allowed his body to settle back into itself, scars and all. Like loosening dress robes after a formal occasion, it was always a relief.
He relished this time alone with his own body. He slept better in his own skin. Transforming once a month had been challenge enough. The extended use of polyjuice was exhausting to his already tormented physique. The full moon was a week away.
Being alone with his body also reminded him that he was just that-- alone.
Rising into the cool night air of his room to latch the shutter, Remus noticed the house was completely silent. He was struck by a crushing sense of isolation. In this enormous house full of people, he was utterly alone. No one even knew he was here, not really.
Severus was only two doors away.
It was late, so late it was early. Remus couldn’t face his empty bed. He leaned against his door for several minutes, heart pounding, his heightened hearing sensing no signs of movement. He held an internal debate for several minutes before nodding to himself and turning the lock.
Remus pushed open his door, peered out, and then crept on his bare feet down the hallway to Severus’s rooms. His door squeaked, but not loud, and Remus slid through and closed it behind him. He took a moment to marvel at how much Severus had mellowed since the end of the war, so much so that he would leave his bedroom door unlocked.
Severus had latched the shutters to his room tight, and it was very dark. Remus stood still, trying to control his rapid breathing, and allowed his eyes time to adjust. After a few minutes, he could just make out a lanky shape under the white sheets. Severus had always been one to take over the bed if given a chance, lying on his back and stretching his long limbs in odd diagonals that made fitting in beside him a challenge. The utter familiarity of his sprawled body on the bed was like a punch in the gut.
He only intended to look, to see Severus with his own eyes, not Bill’s, but somehow Remus found himself approaching the bed and then lying down in the small empty space next to Severus, being careful not to touch him or disturb the bedding. The smell of Severus surrounded him, and he drank in his hard, careworn face as he slept. Just for a minute, he told himself.
A gust of wind pounded by the window. Severus groaned at the noise and rolled over, his arm flopping onto Remus. He settled back to sleep.
Remus felt he might dissolve into the mattress. Severus’s face was inches from his, his arm a warm pressure. He could feel his deep, even breaths, see every dark eyelash. If he reached his fingers out, he could touch his wide lips.
Somehow, thinking about it meant doing it, and his fingers trailed across the rough mouth. The stray arm tightened around him and the sleeping Severus whispered, “Lupin,” in his dream voice, that old midnight voice that was only for him.
Hearing his name demolished Remus’s last ounce of control. His lips followed his fingers, against his will, just a light touch, just a taste, and when Severus shifted and moaned and was suddenly, aggressively kissing him back, Remus wasn’t able to stop. His body wouldn’t obey. He wanted the kiss to go on and on, needed it to. His hands tangled in Severus’s hair, pulled him closer. Severus’s eyes remained closed, his body pliant. He was not really awake.
There was no way to know where the moment would have taken them, but a blast of wind rattled the shutters and jarred Remus back to himself. He didn’t know where he got the will to break off the kiss, huffing and terrified and madly in love, but he did, and then threw himself off the edge of the bed, making an enormous thump. He held still, hidden from view on the floor.
The thump woke Severus from his state of half-sleep, and he let out a breathy shout. Remus could hear his heavy panting, could imagine the confused and dazed look on his face as he surveyed the empty bed.
“Lupin,” he said quietly, to the air. “Remus.”
Somehow, Remus was able to remain still and quiet as Severus rolled over and his breathing slowed back into sleep. He crept out of the room and lay in his bed, wide-awake all night, listening to the wind.
* * *
In the morning, as he woke, Severus automatically reached towards his bedside table for the green stone he had kept there for the past two years.
It was gone.
His eyes snapped open and he glanced around the room, the memory of his dream vivid. He could almost feel the warm lips on his, sense the rough hands in his hair, smell the musk and sweat of the wolf. He’d thought he was past all of this, had moved on.
Moved on. That thought reminded him where the stone was now.
“Potter.”
He wanted the stone back, immediately. His heart thudded in his chest. He needed to speak with Bill.
Link to Act V
Notes: As a few have requested it, if you want to read a summary of Twelfth Night, here is a link. The full text of the play is available on-line at Project Gutenberg.
Dramatis Personae
Orsino- Severus Snape
Viola- Remus Lupin
Olivia- Harry Potter
Sebastian- Bill Weasley
Sea Captain- Charlie Weasley
Antonio- Viktor Krum
Maria- Hermione Granger
Sir Toby Belch/Feste- Fred and George Weasley
Sir Andrew Aguecheek- Ginny Weasley
Malvolio- Draco Malfoy
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I hope you enjoy your vacation. I'll be waiting eagerly for Act V!
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I have internet access tonight while we are on the road, which gives me hope that I will be able to keep up over Vac, and keep all on schedule. Hooray! More soon...