InsaneJournal

Fic: Red Serpent (5/12)
Title: Red Serpent (5/12)
Author/Artist: skitty_kat
Rating: R
Warnings: death, destruction, sex, violence, torture and a gratuitous explosion or two. Yikes.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters belong to JK Rowling. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming.
Word Count: 2779 (31881 overall)
Summary: Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia to bring down the powerful Lord Voldemort.
A/n: This fic contains illustrations, set in the appropriate places within the text. Love to drachenmina for the fabulous beta.
Chapter One: M's Man - Chapter Two: A Bar With A Reputation - Chapter Three: Dinner For Two - Chapter Four: Small Spaces and Close Encounters



The morning dawned with weak and pale beams of sunlight sneaking furtively through the rough fabric of the curtains. It was an ill sort of morning, not settling on any weather in particular but compromising on chilly sunlight and irregular clouds. The room was not quite cold but the bed was certainly warm with two bodies sharing it.

Lupin was already awake as the daylight grew, lying on his side and examining the other man in the bed. Snape also lay on his side, his back facing Lupin with its shoulder blades pointed. It was a skinny back, pale-skinned, and unlike that of any woman Lupin had ever slept with. Not for the first time in that already long morning the Englishman questioned himself and his libido. He knew all too well the effect his work had on him. In his own mind he called it the wolf, the roaring monster that rose up within him to direct his movements to the most primal of actions even at times other than the full moon. Being a werewolf, he had realised, did not limit itself to those times when his bones cracked and reformed, his teeth grew long and his hunger cried out for blood. There was always the hunger, giving flight-or-flight the additional option of fucking. Many a time on a dangerous mission, with adrenaline high, he had relieved himself of the stresses of his task with what seemed a parade of beautiful women. They had been willing and soft or wild and passionate or satisfying at the least, but seemed lukewarm memories next to those of the previous night. The wolf had howled long and loud then.

It was ridiculous, Lupin decided. He was not like Snape; not one of those men. He was normal, at least where sex was concerned. His appetite was simply higher. The close proximity of such a man as Snape and venues where unnatural practices were tolerated, even encouraged, had clearly worked on his mind. He had been high on adrenaline and no women had been around. Snape had been infuriating and provocative and willing. He had as good as bent over and ordered Lupin to fuck him.



Even as the memory of that black-eyed invitation filled his mind Lupin felt the heat of arousal, the first stirring of the beast. He shifted to accommodate it, moving to the almost imperceptible sound of sliding bedclothes. The sheet at Snape’s waist slipped a little, exposing valleys of shadow beyond his lower back. Lupin’s hand reached out of its own accord – touch, mark, claim, snarled the wolf – to feel the pale skin. It was warm and Lupin found himself chasing the warmth downwards across plains and down valleys to where Snape’s body allowed him entrance. There it was no longer simply warmth but heat instead. Lupin’s fingers twisted in that curiously giving body.

Snape stirred a little in his sleep, mumbling an incoherency in Russian from behind tumbled hair. His head tilted back a little, exposing a flushed cheek. Lupin continued his exploration, curling his body up behind the sleeping man. His hand came up to rest on Snape’s shoulder as he lined his body up to fit with that welcoming spot. Sliding his fingers out Lupin pressed himself in with one solid thrust. The wolf rumbled and Snape’s eyes flew open.

‘What is -?’ he gasped in Russian.

‘It’s me,’ Lupin growled in English.

Snape gave a half-sigh half-grunt and reached one arm up to grab Lupin’s head. His leg bent back too, his foot hooking round Lupin’s calf. Lupin grabbed a hip and pulled Snape as close as possible. They lay together, quivering, for a few moments before Lupin began to thrust in a brutal fashion. Snape gasped, trembling against the sheets. Their position was not entirely conducive to the frustration Lupin was attempting to exorcise but each successive hip jerk was as violent as he could make it. He was not the kind of man who had these sordid, perverse encounters and the only way he could justify it to the parts of his mind still caring was to do it as fast and harsh as possible. He gave the wolf full rein, riding the growling and barking rush of its rutting.

He rolled them, pushing Snape facedown onto the pillow and dragging his hips up. His hand forced itself into the black hair and snarled tight among the strands. He was close now, so close. It was empowering, being this conqueror. There was glory in this pseudo-rape, this violation of the willing. He – the wolf – was in control here. There was no way he was one of these damned queers!

His hand, clutching across Snape’s belly to hold him in place, brushed Snape’s leaking cock. The resulting shudders and internal clenching was enough to convince Lupin to grab the rigid organ and squeeze it roughly. Snape’s yell was muffled by the pillow as he came, long fingers clutching in the sheets.

Lupin, pulled in by the feeling around his own cock getting tighter and tighter, came a few thrusts later. He shoved the thin body down onto the bed, pushing himself in as hard as he could to wring as much pleasure from the moment as possible. Finally, wrung out and empty with the wolf sated and gone, he collapsed onto Snape’s back.

After several minutes of strained and irregular breathing that finally returned to normal Snape pushed at Lupin who took the hint and rolled off, pulling out in the process. He did not miss the wince that ran through Snape’s body as he did so, though neither of them mentioned it. Snape reached out a trembling hand for a cigarette from the bedside cabinet. He managed, fumbling, to pick one up but by the time he was sitting up and trying to light a match it was obvious that his hands were shaking far too much to manage it. Lupin took the cigarette and matches from him and, placing the cigarette along with one of his own in his mouth, lit both with a single match. He passed Snape his back and watched as the man sucked on it like the proverbial dying man. Half of it was grey ash before Snape spoke.

‘I haven’t been woken like that for some time.’ He gave Lupin a sideways glance with an unreadable expression.

‘I’m not one of you,’ was all Lupin said, savagely and bluntly.



Lupin lay back and smoked another cigarette while Snape used the shower. It had only burnt halfway down when Snape came out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his hips.

'You're as skinny as a girl anyway,' Lupin said.

Snape sneered. 'Trying to justify yourself?'

'I'd leave the money on the bed and go but it's my hotel room.' Lupin stubbed out the cigarette abruptly and swung his legs off the bed.

Snape very visibly bit down on whatever he wanted to say. 'You English,' he managed after a moment's pause, 'always so gallant.'

He followed Lupin into the bathroom and shut the door behind them. The shower had been left running and it splashed noisily. Snape fixed Lupin with a dark glare.

'You watch your tongue,' he hissed, 'and I will watch mine.'

'What do you mean by that?' asked Lupin roughly.

'One word from me,' Snape said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the hotel room beyond the bathroom door, 'and the authorities will be taking a little too much interest in you.'

His face and voice were both smug. Lupin was infuriated. He grabbed Snape's bony shoulders tightly.

'Is that what happened to Black?’ he demanded, shaking the other man. 'Is that why he ended up in the river?'

Snape said nothing, his face remaining inscrutable and blank. He pushed Lupin's hands away.

'Three o'clock,' he said quietly, 'on the bridge where I met you. Don't be late.' He left, shutting the bathroom door behind him with a little more force than necessary.



Lupin frowned as he got into the shower. His body felt sated; a warm and satisfied ache had settled throughout it. His mind was a different matter. Sharp, jagged thoughts itched and jabbed. Would Snape really make good on his threat to let slip about him? Had the Russian had something to do with Black's death? There was a lot riding on this, at least as far as Lupin was concerned. The Service would cope with losing another agent, of that he was sure, but Lupin would rather stay alive. Damned complicated and contrary Communists!

The hot water wore away at some of the sharper doubts eventually. Snape wouldn't report him or even dare drop a hint where he might be overheard; there would be too much danger for Snape himself. Comforted by this thought, Lupin nonetheless resolved to keep a close eye on the man. Snape seemed genuine enough - even if he had an odd way about him and an even ruder manner - and Lupin didn't doubt that he wanted out of Riddle's organisation. His reasons, once he had given them, seemed genuine. The man hadn't lied to make himself sound better. He had been truthful as far as Lupin could tell.

Lupin rubbed soap into his hair with quick, vicious movements. Damn the man! The mission would be a lot less complicated, Lupin was sure, if it weren't for one Severus Snape.

He breakfasted downstairs starting with bitter black coffee. The breakfast was served in the same room where dinner had been the previous night. Lupin scowled down at the table. He didn't need to see the waiters to know that they were staring at him, especially after Snape's display of last night. The Russian had got what he wanted, all right, and Lupin had hardly been unwilling. He had even instigated this morning's exertions himself. He could hardly help himself, though. Snape was such a damned tease. That business with the footplay at dinner. The way he kept occasionally touching Lupin, usually inappropriately but often with some ridiculous excuse. And the time they had spent in that little cupboard!

They had learned some things of value, at least. Riddle and his followers would be leaving for England the next day by boat. Riddle's specific plans, however, remained frustratingly opaque. It looked like Lupin was going to have to follow them out of the country and play it by ear. Opportunities would arise and he would just have to do his best. At least if Riddle and his cronies got as far as Britain the cavalry would not be so far away. Hopefully there would be chances to discover things and throw a spanner in Riddle's works. Until then, though, he would have to do more work with Snape. He was disconcerted by the anticipation he felt at that prospect.



The bridge was marginally more interesting in the grey daylight. The dark river that flowed underneath chilled Lupin for a moment, remembering what M had told him. Black - in a curtain, the logic of which escaped Lupin entirely - had been pulled out of it somewhere, the frigid water reluctantly giving up its claim on corpse-flesh and cold bones. He must have drifted along for God only knew how long, that handsome face encountered only by fish and water insects unimpressed by its former human beauty. Lupin shuddered and turned from the water. Its secrets, ancient and deep, were not what he was interested in. He leaned his back against the metal railing, folding his arms against the bleak weather. Wind blew down the river, whipping his coat around his thighs.

At precisely three o'clock the greatcoat-clad figure of Snape appeared on the embankment, tilting his head towards Lupin before turning and heading up the river away from the bridge. Lupin pushed himself away from the railing and began to saunter casually in the direction Snape had taken. Soon he was walking in step with the other man and Snape's arm was brushing his. Lupin felt an unexpected warmth at the contact and didn't pull away as he would have expected himself to do. Something of last night's intimacy still remained; it seemed, in glances and awareness. They came to a bench a little way further down the embankment and sat on it side by side, not touching but close. The river waters flowed by in front of them, somehow less cruel than when Lupin had contemplated it earlier. Opacity disguised its depth and waterfowl bobbed on the surface.

'I can't help but feel we should be feeding the ducks,' Lupin muttered, mostly to himself.

Snape gave him a sideways look. 'Why waste the bread?'

Lupin chuckled. 'Oh, don't worry. Just a stray thought. We're not in St. James's Park, after all.'

'I give up.' Snape threw up a hand. 'You English are crazy.'

'Aren't you half English?'

'Half English,' said Snape solemnly, 'not half mad.'

Lupin grinned. 'How are events progressing with your friends?'

'Busily.' Snape pulled out one of his seemingly ever-present cigarettes and sparked his purloined lighter with practised fingers. 'Everybody is preparing for the journey and quite excited about it too. We are going to the capitalist hellhole that is Britain to start a new revolution!' He dragged in a lungful of smoke and sneered. 'It frequently amazes me how stupid people can be.'

Lupin tipped his head to examine the profile of the man beside him. Snape's eyebrows were drawn tightly together as he scowled at the ducks. Deep lines were familiar visitors to that forehead, forming angry creases with practised ease.



'You joined them.'

Snape's head flicked round quicker than Lupin would ever have expected. They stared at each other for a few moments until Snape's eyes began to lose the diamond-hard gleam of anger, dropping it back into the usual deep pits of blackness.

'That was some time ago,' he muttered, 'I was younger and rather more idealistic, shall we say. It's a better word than naive, I think. Lucius Malfoy was handsome and quite sympathetic. I may have been a fool then but I'm not anymore.'

Lupin, eyes looking nowhere but at Snape, privately considered the extent of his own foolishness. No matter how he tried, however, he still concluded that the consequences could go hang, at least for a while.

'So is there any chance of getting in for a snoop around at all?' he asked.

'Nyet. It is a madhouse today and there are people everywhere. We would get nowhere, except perhaps into a prison cell. And that only if we were lucky.'

'Well, then.' Lupin leaned back on the bench. 'I suppose we'll just have to find another way to occupy ourselves.'

His hand came to rest on the dark coat sleeve. Snape examined Lupin's face for a few moments before a faint curve graced his thin lips.

'I suppose we had better.'



The train would leave the next morning, rattling and rolling through the chill air. Riddle had reserved one of the carriages for himself and his Death Eaters, the rest being open to normal travellers. From the train there would be a boat, privately hired, for the journey to Scotland. This Lupin would have to stow away on, hiding out of sight. It would be a long and tiring journey but Lupin still held hope for Riddle to somehow slip up or inadvertently open himself to discovery on the way. If, of course, he didn’t do so himself first.

Until then, though, the two men had indeed found other activities to fill their time.

It was long gone midnight when Snape finally left Lupin's bed, moving across the floor to retrieve his scattered clothing. Lupin flicked on the bedside lamp, sending golden light to gleam on pale skin. There were marks across it, finger-shaped smudges and ruddy crescents from a biting mouth. Satisfaction rumbled through Lupin as he slipped out from the sheets and came up behind Snape. His hands moved across bare chest before sliding down to cover Snape's hands, which were attempting to fasten his trousers.

'Come back to bed,' Lupin entreated, pushing open-mouthed kisses to the side of Snape's neck.

'I have to go,' Snape protested, though his movements to dress had stopped. 'You know why.'

'You can stay a little longer.'

'No, I can't.'

Lupin pushed Snape's hands aside and quickly undid the buttons he had managed to do up. Snape pulled at Lupin's fingers but with little strength.

'I shouldn't,' he protested, one arm belying his denials and rising up to pull Lupin's head closer.

'We've got time,' Lupin promised, drawing him back to the bed. 'We have all the time in the world.'



Chapter Six: To Travel Lustfully...