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Summary: loneliness, desperation and pity are a poor basis for a relationship.
Pairings: Lupin/ Snape, Lupin/ Tonks, reference to others from HBP and DH.
Word count: 7900
Era: Half-blood prince and start of Deathly Hallows
Warnings: *Angst. Anal sex. Canon character death. Illness. Reference to torture. Gratuitous hurt/ comfort.* (highlight to view)
Rating: R? NC-17?
Notes: this is a standalone fic but fits within the context of a longer story "Cast in the Mould".
Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction. All recognisable characters belong to JK Rowling, as does the dialogue in section 2 which is taken directly from HBP. I make no profit from this etc.
1.
The werewolf looked as if he hadn’t bathed or shaved since Black had fallen through the veil. His hair was a matted mess which would have embarrassed even James Potter and puffy, bloodshot eyes peered out of a face covered with scruffy stubble. His expression was haunted. He was surrounded by empty firewhisky bottles, and the whole cottage stank of unwashed flesh.
He was also nearly naked. The only item of clothing he wore was a faded pair of checked boxer shorts. His skin was covered with scars – there were so many across his chest that the hair seemed to grow only in patches. But underneath the muscles were firm. His legs were long and his hips slighly bony. And he seemed entirely unselfconscious about his state of undress.
( Read more... )
Pairings: Lupin/ Snape, Lupin/ Tonks, reference to others from HBP and DH.
Word count: 7900
Era: Half-blood prince and start of Deathly Hallows
Warnings: *Angst. Anal sex. Canon character death. Illness. Reference to torture. Gratuitous hurt/ comfort.* (highlight to view)
Rating: R? NC-17?
Notes: this is a standalone fic but fits within the context of a longer story "Cast in the Mould".
Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction. All recognisable characters belong to JK Rowling, as does the dialogue in section 2 which is taken directly from HBP. I make no profit from this etc.
1.
The werewolf looked as if he hadn’t bathed or shaved since Black had fallen through the veil. His hair was a matted mess which would have embarrassed even James Potter and puffy, bloodshot eyes peered out of a face covered with scruffy stubble. His expression was haunted. He was surrounded by empty firewhisky bottles, and the whole cottage stank of unwashed flesh.
He was also nearly naked. The only item of clothing he wore was a faded pair of checked boxer shorts. His skin was covered with scars – there were so many across his chest that the hair seemed to grow only in patches. But underneath the muscles were firm. His legs were long and his hips slighly bony. And he seemed entirely unselfconscious about his state of undress.
( Read more... )
