"Severus?" Remus edges closer in the bed and the other man lies still. Remus has learnt that this is permission – he places one of his own hands over Severus’s hand. Severus lies on his back, still and silent. Remus curls up next to him, around that one point of contact, his warm hand gently covering Severus’s ice-cold one.
It’s enough.
September brings these changes – Severus comes to bed, permits Remus to touch his hands, his elbow, his shoulder. He lies still and silent. He stops drinking and starts eating a little more. Severus is busy all the time; classes in the day time, detentions and patrols at night. He is tired and short-tempered, but the students bring him focus. Remus waits up for him every night, and sleeps in every morning.
Mid-October and they start to drift apart. Remus is distracted, frustrated, the weight and depth of memories burying him alive. He visits Harry, who becomes more and more obsessive as Halloween approaches. The kitchen at Grimmauld Place is covered in parchment, maps, tiny flashing pins that mark known sightings of the few Death Eaters that still remain at large.
Harry is one of the best Aurors they have, but he reminds Remus more of Mad-Eye than James. He jumps at small noises and sets traps around the doors and windows, he mutters curses under his breath. He allows Remus to join him when he goes to hunt down his targets; and it is a hunt. It reminds Remus of his days with Greyback's pack, but he knows better than to mention that.
Ginny stays at her parents, and Harry hardly seems to notice that she’s gone.
Severus suffers in lonely silence. Remus cannot forgive or forget or feel sorry for one second of his pain.
After Hallowe'en, the nights grow darker and the days are colder, but Severus warms to Remus. Remus can wrap an arm around his waist or press a light kiss against his cheek and Severus only tenses slightly, enough that Remus can ignore it. They spend long nights in front of the fire, and Severus sits with Remus on the sofa, instead of alone in the armchair.
Christmas is a joy. Christmas is how Remus imagined the summer would be; free from students and far from the ghosts of the summer, Severus starts to relax. He drinks, but not excessively, sleeps late, and lets Remus touch him. They exchange gifts - Severus only ever has a present from Remus, but he opens it with pleasure burning in his eyes. It’s always a second hand book and Severus is always already thumbing through the pages as he thanks Remus.
January is bright and crisp and clear; snow on the ground reflecting the sky. Severus gets another year older and pulls back into his brittle shell. Remus knows better than to try to celebrate, so he clings to the warm memories of Christmas and tries not to be frustrated. Severus breaks things in anger and retreats to his workroom.
The year disintegrates from there on out, a slowly turning spiral, aiming for the pit of the summer. Remus is pulled along helplessly, his own emotions spiralling out of control: angry, frustrated and despairing by turns. Severus swoops around the school like a bad tempered rain cloud and students scatter in his wake.
March is Remus’ birthday. He and Severus don’t celebrate, but Remus visits Harry. Ron is there – he and Hermione are on yet another break and Hermione will no doubt have yet another promotion before the summer. Harry is calmer in the spring, his own ghosts chased far away. He and Ginny seem happy and this year the swell of Ginny’s stomach seems to warm the entire room. They give Remus cake and presents and endless smiles and Remus feels different, feels younger, feels a fraud.
The summer drags them down.
Remus stops visiting Harry, afraid his own bad mood with taint the couple’s happiness. He reads Harry's letters, the long spooling pages of blue ink that trace out the youthful joy Remus never found for himself. He wants to burn them, or tear them up into long fine threads but he can't manage it, so he folds them as small as he can and hides them in the pocket of his winter cloak.
Severus doesn’t sleep or eat, and he drinks his way through mealtimes, locked in his workroom. The heavy wooden door is not the worst barrier between them. Remus sits and stews, until it eventually comes to a head – shouting, broken objects, the occasional bruise or bloodied lip. Severus can draw anger out of Remus, like a salve drawing out infection. Remus never knew he had such ugly words inside himself.
Remus can’t remember how he stuck with Severus for that first summer. He does it now because he knows the pattern, prepares for it, and holds out for the months of autumn and winter. He pulls those memories forward like a barrier – the good times, or, more commonly, the mediocre times - Severus making two cups of tea instead of one; asking Remus his opinion on some ordinary subject; ranting about students and staff to Remus, to offload his frustrations on someone he trusts to listen.
Their world turns in the last week of August, a neat pirouette in Severus’s mood. He sobers up in a day, (just about.) He organises lesson plans and travels to Diagon Alley for supplies. In the evening he eats in the Great Hall, sat next to Remus, as if he had been there every night throughout the holidays. Headmistress McGonagall looks on approvingly.
On the last night before the students return, Severus walks beside him as they return to their quarters. He passes half of his purchase of potions supplies to Remus and, in silence, they unwrap paper packages and line the bottles up on the dusty shelves.
That night they go to bed, and Remus can touch Severus’s hand.