Fractured.

Severus Snape || 24 || DJ || Imperix Dealer ||

[contritum-coluber-blog]

Prompt: First experience with drugs

She was a diamond, crudely cut, with a sharp smile that could pierce even the roughest hearts. 

He couldn’t say no. He’d never been able to. She was his diamond, shaped by the blood she’d drawn, yet unbreakable as ever, and for fuck’s sake this was another stupid idea, yet here he was, fingers scrabbling at the cuff on his sleeves. 

The room was dank. When not shrouded in shadows from the lack of lighting, mould sprouted from so many spots that they had taken to calling it their ‘little dalmatian’. 

“Who needs a dog, eh?”  She would chime, loose scarlet curls cascading over her shoulders, hiding the freckles that he loved to hunt out. When she was feeling cruel (which, recently, felt like all the time) she’d run her fingers over the wall, nose wrinkling, muttering under her breath how she “Should have gone with Potter...” because “he might have been a bellend, but at least he’d have been able to afford decent digs.” 

At least when the sun started to creep out, she would calm down a little. 

He’d never admit it, but he was never going to invest in a blind, or even attempt to put the up the obnoxious excuse for curtains that had been ‘donated’ by Petunia.  He loved watching the sun break over the window frame, shattering across the white walls, immersing everything in it’s resplendent glow. 

He loved the way her hair lit up. He loved the way he had to squint, the light covering every mark on the wall, until he was sure he was waking in a competently different place; a place he could be proud of. He loved the way she would grumble, her arm tugging him closer, her body burrowing nearer, as if his lanky frame would be enough for her to hide from the sun’s grasp. 

For those few moments, he felt needed. He felt necessary. 

This sunrise was nothing like those that he treasured so much. He could see the sting in her eyes, the razor-sharp edge to her smile. Even the nails, raking lightly down his chest, felt a lot sharper than usual. Her lips, gently caressing his jaw (despite the week long growth of hair that was lingering there) were full of persuasion. Even though his heart was heavy, he had no control over his cock. 

“Come on, Sev. It’ll be fun.”

 Another smile, her hand dipping ever so slightly lower. 

“It’s safe, it’s fucking brilliant and, if you’re still uptight after, you never have to touch it again.” The exasperated sigh only made her pause momentarily; he was sure, if he had opened his eyes, he would have seen her stormy eyes rolling, the greens becoming so dark, he’d have no idea where the pupils began. 

“Fine! We’ll both never touch it again.” This time, she sat up all the way, her legs locking around his hips, her hands pushing roughly against his chest in order to push herself up. Despite this, her voice softened. 

“I promise. I’ll never, ever even look at the stuff.” 

He craned his neck to look up at her, face twisted as he attempted to make up his mind, a mind that just ten minutes ago had been wrapped up in a dream, debating the importance of Nutella against Marmite to the Queen. Yet that small movement was all she needed. She knew he would say yes, knew she could get him to say yes. She took whatever she could as a nod, as an agreement, and he was forced to accept it, or deal with the consequences. 

…and that was how he found himself, barely ten minutes later, with a needle in hand, fingers trembling as he braced himself. He’d never been good with needles. At least this would have a good after-effect. Right? 

He turned back to the bed, jaw taut and stomach turning. He didn’t want to do it, if he waited until she shot up, she wouldn’t know he hadn’t..

..but then he saw her. Hair splayed in a crimson wave, eyes fluttering shut, mouth thrown open as she gasped for ? Relief? Freedom? More? He didn’t know, but whatever she was feeling, he needed to be a part of it. It was all the persuasion he needed. 

Roughly, his hand thrust down. He pulled gently, looking for a splash back of blood in the needle, a guarantee that had successfully pierced the vein- and there it was, red as anything.

Just not as red as her hair. Nothing could ever beat that, not with all the slithers of gold and the hundreds, the thousands of different colours running through it. He was the only one to know about them, know how her hair shone when the sun hit it just right. Not even that twat Potter-

He hadn’t even noticed his thumb pushing down, the syringe emptying into his system. Not until his head spun so much that he failed to stay on his feet, head falling next to hers. 

Fuck. She hadn’t been lying. Suddenly, without any take-off, he was soaring. Soaring out of the cramped, damp room. Soaring out of reach of Potter and his obnoxious group of wankers.  He was 

                                                                                                      untouchable

                                                                       un 

                    -stoppable.  

and suddenly he was drowning in her hair, the Crimson no longer a tether to hold onto, but a rope, ensnaring him, smothering him until his eyes were watering and his mouth was bone try. His hands scrambled across the endless blanket, finally finding her soft skin after what felt like an eternity; he kept getting distracted by the euphoria lacing through his body to remember to keep moving his muscles. 

He tugged her on top on him, his hands refusing to let her go. Full of fury, his hand latched in her cerise locks and he pulled her down, crashing his lips messily against hers. For once, he was in control. What he said, what he did, was final. She was helpless to him, her body writhing against his like a dog in heat. 

More importantly, he could feel every movement. It was if every muscles, every nerve was electric, and her body only pushed the current to places which threatened to burn the pair of them alive. 

“-Love you Red, y’know that?” He gasped, forehead knocking against hers. “I fucking love you.” He couldn’t hear her reply, his heart beating too wildly in his ears, but the dark look in her eyes had grown wickeder, the curve in her smirk had been fired up, now intent on teasing him, as opposed to tearing him apart. 

This was the man she wanted. This was the man she wanted him to be. Fuck a scrummy flat, she was more than that. She was fire, pure, blazing flames, and if it took a few chemicals buzzing inside of him to become that role, then it was a small price to pay.

It was worth it. It was worth it for her. 

[contritum-coluber-blog]

avgvstvsrookwood:

He tried to focus on the tea in his hands instead of watching Severus too closely, but it was hard not to. He had a bad habit of watching people, of picking apart every little thing someone did, the smallest movements, the tiniest flickers of a look that crossed their face. It was usually a helpful habit. But now it just felt invasive. Like he was trying to get something from Severus that he shouldn’t have been asking for.

Even if Sev had shown up at his door in the middle of the night, it seemed pretty clear that he didn’t want any more help from him than this cup of tea. And so he tried not to read into the way he looked almost hesitatingly at the cup of tea, the deep frown lines that crossed his face, or the way he was visibly shivering, despite the blanket and the tea and the heat in the flat.

It wasn’t really his choice at this point. Augustus was going to find out who the hell these people were. He was involved, whether Severus wanted him to be or not.

“I dunno… seems fuckin’ weird. But, honestly, right now, there are bigger questions. We should be glad that the let you leave, no matter what the reason was. Like, maybe they realized they don’t want your modtech or something? But that’s besides the point,” he said with a slight shake of his head. He paused to take a drink of the tea, still scalding, but offering welcomed warmth. “Like you said, though, there’s someone out there who can help us figure this out. We just have to find them.”

If any of them survived, his mind added. He wasn’t going to say it out loud, but it sounded like whoever these people were they weren’t exactly in the business of trying to save the people they stole from. He had the strong feeling that there weren’t many cases like Severus’s. He was forever an anomaly it seemed.

And then Severus was admitting that he was afraid. The joke about the crime drama didn’t mask the truth behind the sentence. And it sent a chill through his own body. He tried not to show his own worry, but he wasn’t sure it was very successful.

“We’re gonna figure it out, Sev. And it won’t happen again. To you, or anyone else. I won’t let it. Alright? You’ve just gotta, like, trust me. I’ll have people start on it first thing in the morning. I’ll start on it. We’ll find the fuckers.”

It didn’t seem real. 

The whole time he focused on his tea, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek. Any spasm of pain was enough to keep him anchored, to keep his thoughts straight. The tea was good- it was more than that, so much more- but it made him lethargic. He couldn’t afford to be even sleepier, not when his muscles were dragging him down already. 

“We’ll find the fuckers.” 

He looked up, his attempt at listening ending as Gus finished speaking. As far as he was concerned, it could have the most inspirational speech, designed to spur even the darkest of hearts, it could have been the biggest load of bollocks he’d ever heard. 

But that was the problem. He wasn’t listening. 

At least Gus would put down the glaze in his eyes to a lack of sleep. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to listen. God, he knew he needed it, but with every skittish glance up, he saw the concern of his friend’s face growing. Augustus was meant to be the problem solver, there with an easy smile and a promise that everything would blow over, usually a promise that came hand-in-hand with the offer of a yoga lesson; an offer Severus was yet to take up. 

This time, he couldn’t accept the promises. They were reaching his ears, the words making their way through his brain, but they were empty. His hadn’t seen the such concern in Gus’  since....well, since that night when he thought he’d fucked his heart over, but even then, this was something new. For the first time, it was like he didn’t know what to do.

There was a flicker in the corner of his eye, breaking his thoughts. Suddenly, he became aware of the amount of technology surrounding them, the wires that must have had the room ensnared in their grip. 

Just how much had they heard? 

FUCK. Just how lazy had he got? He’d grown familiar, let himself get comfortable. They could be on their way already, Guns and snarls and snarls at the ready. ‘Brose and Gus were no match, not when they didn’t know what they were up against. He needed to get out of here. 

“I’m knackered mate, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’ll just take the usual room, yeah?” He turned towards the door. He’d wait an hour, maybe two before leaving. He’d run away from home too many times to count, slipping out was second nature to him. Getting caught? He’d never had to worry about that. 

[contritum-coluber-blog]

inwaiting:

He rolled his eyes a little at the suggestion. Petulant, maybe, but he was hardly going to make Snape walk all the way around the alley out back and come in through the rusty-framed door to the kitchens just to keep Regulus uninvolved. 

     “You don’t need to use the back, Sev.”

It was beside the point that no one would be around this time or morning – the streets around Kingfisher’s hardly saw anyone until at least noon, as the place was flanked mostly by bars and the kind of shitty run-down flats that people didn’t emerge from unless the sun was down and the dealers were prowling. The relative quiet had its perks, when a business didn’t actually need foot traffic to keep itself afloat, and this was one of them: he could’ve taken the Prime bloody Minister into Kingfisher’s at half eight and no one would’ve seen.

No, the point was that if someone did see, if someone was watching, he doubted shoving Snape through the back entrance was going to do much to hide the fact. Surely, they’d be watching closely enough that they’d already know. And walking side by side next to Snape through the front entrance of the restaurant sent a message: I’m not trying to hide; I don’t need to.

This was what the Syndicate did, after all, at its heart. It protected people.

Maybe he was being naive, but but naive was better than being perceived as being afraid of Snape’s bogeyman. 

He pulled out his phone, typing in a quick text to the kid still hanging round from the night before to turn the fryers on before he left for the morning. They’d get in, get Snape fed, and get to the bottom of this, whatever it was. 

“I’m just a bit...unprepared, y’know?” 

A shadow crashed onto the pavement in front of them, cast off a wondering, lonely cat, and Severus’ voice cracked, his balls abandoning him and sending him to a pre-pubescent tone. He coughed, one..twice, trying to clasp on to the few shreds of dignity he grasping at, but the deep husk that returned  to his voice hardly helped him heart to slow little. 

“I’m hardly bloody James Bond.” He snorted, his head beginning to feel a little to feel a little giddy with the rush of nicotine into his system. His stomach was still gurgling, the clothes he was swaddled in (now dotted with random tufts of hair; ew) brushing uncomfortably against his skin, but he was more than used to being out of kilt. He’d had days where he didn’t know if he was awake or asleep, if the six fingers on his hands were just a bad trip or a bad dream. 

But not eating? 

                                      It was killer.

He was trying his hardest to focus on his friend, to listen to what he was saying, but there was a knocking in the back of his ear, and it was starting to get louder.  

..........Shit. It wasn’t the tech was it? Maybe it they’d messed with it, messed with the frequencies it could handle, to mess with him, to make him think he was crazy, psyco, going off the rails..

                                       ....it was working. 

“..but sure. The front. Yeah. That’ll do.”

He tried to install an air of confidence into his voice, but that was when he realised the strange noise he was hearing, the noise that had been bugging him for so damn long was him. It was his heart. Keeping him on his toes, warning him of everything that could fall into his path. He needed to be awake, he needed to be aware, no matter how draining it was, no matter how exhausted he felt. It was the final sign, he was sure, of his body giving up on him. No longer willing to hide all the mistakes and discrepancies, the beat that he couldn’t shake was clearly telling him his body was about to shut down. 

Food. Just think of the chips. 

His stomach gurgled in response. “You sure it’s no trouble? I don’t want to be a bother, you’ve already done much more than you needed to.” 

[annafrankfreakred-blog]

[contritum-coluber-blog]

avgvstvsrookwood:

He hesitated before letting go of Severus, not completely convinced that he wouldn’t fall over on the spot as soon as he was standing on his own. And it was strange, because when he did let go, he saw him hesitate before leaning against the counter, like he was afraid of breaking anything or getting anything dirty. It was fair considering just how dirty Sev looked at the moment, but it bothered him, not only because he didn’t care, but more because usually Severus would care about something like that.

Things were bad if he was worrying about getting Augustus’s kitchen dirty. 

Augustus tried to return the smile that Severus gave him, but he knew that it came out less like a smile and more like a pained grimace. He turned his back to him as soon as that failed, busying himself with finding the tea he had promised and turning the kettle on to heat the water.

This was a lot to think about. And he could barely wrap his head around any of it.

He was out of his depth when it came to things like modtech. He’d always been so busy with his own business that he never really gave the tech much thought other than the very little he knew about Sev’s own modtech. He was never really interested in technology like that, even though imperix was so closely tied to modtech. But now he had to think about it. Because not only were they apparently after his closest mate, but Severus was right. They had to have other targets.

Maybe he didn’t care as much about those potential other targets as Severus did, but he knew a huge problem when he saw it. And this was bigger than something personal, he could tell it was, even if neither of them really knew anything about it at the moment. 

“I don’t think it’s all made up, Sev. The way you look is proof of that. Sounds like they fuckin’ kidnapped you. This is some real shite. These people, they must want any tech they can get their hands on, maybe the more controversial ones, yeah? And I have a feeling you’re not the first person they’ve gone for…” he said thoughtfully, looking back at him again. Again, not the most comforting thing, but they had to talk about it, considering the state these people had left Sev in. 

He paused, frowning in the silence, thinking. He didn’t get very far, though, before the kettle clicked off and he was forced to turn back to the mugs. Pouring tea for both of them, he handed one of the steaming mugs to Severus.

“Here, drink up.”

He took the mug, grateful for the momentary distraction.

Though the room was warm, as were the bodies of both Ambrose and Augustus, but the tea offered him a sense of warmth and protection that he couldn’t describe. It made him feel like everything was normal. Like they were back in the old days, slowly recovering from whatever they had taken the night before, laughing over the ridiculous situations they had gotten themselves into, a cup of tea in hand.

Before, before his hands didn’t tremble. His eyes didn’t search the mug, looking for some way that the drink had been tampered with. Everything had changed, just because of one foolish decision. Drinking it was easy, but ignoring the differences was a lot harder. 

“I don’t understand. They let me go.” 

He took a sip, ignoring the burning liquid that splashed against his lips, scalding his tongue. It didn’t matter, he was too desperate to get the rid of the chill in his core. He couldn’t remember being so cold, he wasn’t sure he was ever going to get anything near to toasty again. 

“It was too easy.” For the first time that evening, some strength entered his voice. “I didn’t even have to try.”  His forehead crumbled, the lines in his skin only deepened over the weeks worries.  “I didn’t have to think, I just got up and walked out of there, I don’t understand, it was like they just let me go.” 

He took another drink, his eyes screwing shut as he tried to force himself to take another drink. He needed to get fucked, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that would solve everything. It would calm his nervous, help him think straight, give him back the energy that he felt so drained of. He knew he’d disappoint the few that cared for him if he took something, namely the bastard next to him, but he knew it would help. 

He just needed to muster up the courage to sneak out first. 

“If I’m not the first, then that means there’s people we could talk to, right? Get to know who we’re facing, what they want?” His fingers wrapped around the mug, attempting to steal as much of the heat as possible. It was a childish gesture, but at this point, he was taking all he could. He didn’t know how long it would be until he was out in the cold again, soaked to the bone, struggling to keep his eyes open, his body shot to bits. Augustus’ offer could only be a temporary one, he couldn’t be putting his friend into danger. 

“I’m scared, Gus. Bloody scared. I feel like I’m in some shit, second-rate Channel Four drama.” 

[contritum-coluber-blog]

inwaiting:

He lit his cigarette, finally, now that his hands were free, preoccupied with the rush of nicotine as he watched Snape pace for a few seconds, watched him think.

     “I don’t offer anything I’m not willing to give,” he said simply. “Come on, as long as you don’t mind chips, you can have breakfast on the house. I’ll see if I can get them to pull something decent together for you.”

He looked at Snape, half waiting for an answer, though he knew he’d keep probably keep pushing if the answer was no. He could see the worry – the hope, almost – in Snape’s eyes at the mention of a decent meal, maybe the first chance he’d had in days to sit down and rest and take care of himself. The least he could do was make sure he didn’t starve to death, especially if whoever was after him didn’t care whether he was dead or alive when they found him. 

So he took a few steps in the direction of Kingfisher’s, where he needed to be headed soon anyway, and dug his beanie out of the back pocket of his jeans, tossing it in Snape’s direction. It wasn’t quite cold enough that he’d needed it when he got outside, especially as he’d been running, and he was used to not having any hair to keep his head warm; Snape had had long hair for as long as Regulus had known him. 

     “Here. Come on. Least I can do, yeah?”

Skittish, he followed Regulus. He felt like a dog, abandoned and helpless, following the first glimmer of help at the promise of food, but what else could he do? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a solid, warm meal, nor entered a establishment of which he was sure wouldn't’ be removed from. It seemed people only like his shabby style when it was accompanied by a giant grin and money to splash out with. 

“I’ll take whatever’s on offer, mate, m’not really in the position to be fussy.” He gave a quiet snicker, attempting to hide his nerves as much as he could, even if he could feel his fingers struggling to keep the cigarette still. Chips would be nice. They would be hot, full of fat. Enough substance to keep him going for a few days. Maybe, he could see if he could grab a few extras, he wouldn’t need to venture out so much for food. He could stay hidden.

He took a few, hesitant steps and fell into place besides Regulus, almost failing to catch the hat. He rushed it up to his head, tugging it down quickly in order to cover his ears, but the coarse material against bare scalp made him uncomfortable. He could feel it rubbing against his scar, and it made his stomach turn, as if it was nails running across a board rather than wool against skin.

“Is there..” He stumbled for the words to say, his body and mind too sapped of energy to make sense. “Is there a back entrance or somethin’?” His stomach grumbled, and he prayed the rushing of the river covered it. “I don’t want to drag you in- I mean, I’m meant to be dead. Gone. Vanished, you get me? It kind of ruins the whole pretending to die thing if I’m seen wandering through the front door of your place.”   Another nervous giggle, then a whisper, almost too quiet to be heard. 

“Thanks.” 

[letsfuckinmybed]

[contritum-coluber-blog]

avgvstvsrookwood:

At least Ambrose seemed to distract him somewhat for a second, or at least ground him for long enough that he was able to start to think more clearly again, which was a relief, considering how shite Augustus was at comforting anyone else. As soon as Severus let got of Ambrose, the pug practically jumped back into Augustus’s lap, which turned out to be a good idea, since Sev practically jumped up from the couch, all of the excess energy coming back as soon as he started actually explaining what the fuck had happened.

And fuck, what the hell was Augustus even meant to say to any of that?

He would have put it down to Sev’s paranoia, to all the drugs and the modtech combined, but it was too real. It all made too much sense. Severus’s complete absence over the past weeks, all the bruises and cuts along his arms, the hair. If he had been in his place, he would have been reacting the exact same way. This was a nightmare, Severus’s worst nightmare. All of the paranoia and worry manifested into a real life nightmare.

And it all made too much sense. He only had to wonder why he hadn’t heard of these people before, why they were just coming out of the woodwork now? Because of course there were people who would do anything to get their hands on modtech, especially a piece of modtech like Snape’s, something so historical, one of the few of its kind that had been at least semi-successful so early on [one of the few that hadn’t died from it.] But things were easier now. Even if modtech was illegal, it was easier to get and safer too, much safer, so why the fuck did these people want to take it from people who already had it? Severus was onto something with the idea that they might want to control whoever had the modtech. And that was terrifying to think of. Even if Augustus was safe himself, the thought that everything that Severus had ever feared, all of the unfounded paranoia had a reason, was terrifying.

Because if they had somehow gotten to him once already, even if he’d managed to escape, then it was hard to say that they wouldn’t somehow find him again, no matter where he went. Just like Severus said.

All of this crossed his mind in a split second, and in that second he also decided that he couldn’t really say most of it out loud. He worried a lot, and Severus was paranoid to no end already; such a winning combination of catastrophic thinking.

“Fuck,” was all he managed to say. Not very comforting, but he was having a lot of trouble coming up with anything else after the information overload. He tried again. “We’ll figure something out, Sev. We’ll find the fuckers, yeah? And I’ll make sure they never do this to anyone again, especially not you. They won’t get to you again. Even if you have to sleep on my bloody couch, we’ll keep them away. We’ve just gotta clear out heads and think. Figure out who they are and how they got to you. Then we can take care of it. But first tea,” he said, letting Ambrose down on the couch and standing. He put a hand on Sev’s shoulder again, gently, and started guiding him toward the kitchen where he filled the electric kettle and pulled two green china mugs out of the cabinet.

He flinched.

It was barely noticeable, a stutter from his muscles that barely made it through the layers he was wrapped in, but still. 

He flinched.   

He had never shied away from Gus, never. 

They’d had the most physical relationship they could, save for sleeping with each other. Severus had been lifted by Gus more time than he could remember, with even more that he had probably forgotten. He’d go into fights for Augustus, broken his nose for Augustus. After a few too many, he’d held hands with Augusts; the pair had skipped down the street, Ambrose between them, as they went gaily on their way. 

Fuck, he’d been found a shivering, pathetic wreck, too many times by Augustus. He’d been carried to the car, thrown into a bed, had his head held up, his arms wrapped around, his underwear wedgied by Gus and he’d never given it a second thought.  They’d danced together, fought together, fought each other, kissed once, egged on by whiskey, puked, ran together. 

So why was he shaking? 

His knees were trembling, so cold he could feel his bones aching, and his fingers? Jesus, they felt as if they were going to fall off..but he knew he couldn’t put it down to that. He didn’t need to explain himself to his friend, he’d tried and failed already, and now everything was getting worse and worse. His head felt as if it was overheating, struggling to contain all the worries he was throwing at it. His hand reached out for the counter and he offered Augustus a weak smile. 

“Tea. Just plain though, no sugar or nothing.” 

He didn’t think his stomach could handle it. 

“I don’t even know their name. Names.” He went to push himself up on the counter, his usual place, but hesitated. He didn’t want to mark it. “I don’t know anything. I don’t even know if it’s just this shit in my head making it all up.” He looked around, scanning the room. It was all fancy as, of course it was, and suddenly he felt incredibly self-conscious. “It’s just...I. God. I thought everything was fine. I was playing a big gig, I’d just pulled this Aussie and then..” His hand brushed against his head, skimming a blotch. The new bruise certainly added a little drama to his atrocious scar. 

“If they think that I’m worth going after, then who the fuck are they going after next?”      

[contritum-coluber-blog]

9-11

Favorite Show?

I’ve no time  for TV, only really watch it if I’m sleeping over at someone else’s, but I’ve never got over seeing Slaves down in Brixton. It was a fucking incredible show. 

Favorite bands?

All the time I have, I don’t get around to listening to as much live music as I should. Anything that’s loud, got a heavy bass line and enough drums to deafen me, I’m into. 

Something you miss?

Stablilty. 

[contritum-coluber-blog]

inwaiting:

He worked his way up the back of Severus’ scalp, the hair roughly evening out over the pale, scarred skin, and then, after a minute, his hand and Snape’s shoulders covered in a a thin layer of dark hair, he wiped the blade off on his jeans and held it out for Severus to take, his fingers lingering near the scar for just a moment before he stepped back and away, giving him a little space. He still seemed skittish, something jumpy and rattled about him, even more than usual. Something other than just the drugs and the modtech. 

     “How about you start with some breakfast?” he suggested, returning his hands to his pockets. 

It was a stupid suggestion, maybe. But he looked like a starved dog, and it would get him in out of the cold for a few minutes, maybe calm him down enough that Regulus could get something better out of him than just a bit of a pickle, mate. 

He was getting more curious with each passing moment, each comment. What kind of problem couldn’t be solved by faking your own death?

     “You want a hat or something? Going to freeze your ears off, like that.”

Waiting patiently had never been something that Severus had been good at, yet the combination of the blade skimming just above his ear and his muscles screaming from exhaustion made standing still easier than it had ever been. Still, the silence wasn’t welcome. It let his thoughts consume him, allowed for his brain to imagine scenarios that he sure weren’t true, but he knew it always good to imagine them, because then he would know hoe to escape, and he wouldn-

The blade flashed in front of his eyes, making him jump, a little more than usual, far too obvious to hide, and his hand snatched out, shoving it in his pocket before Regulus could say anything (he might have been younger, but Severus still feared his judgement.)  

“You offering?” 

He finally looked at the boy, his forehead creasing with worry. His stomach might have been vocal about just how hungry he was, but even after everything, an ounce of pride remained. 

He walked a few paces, turned, and walked back. Walking was good. It helped him to think. Walking gave him rhythm, helped him to try to make a little sense of what the hell was going on. 

“I can’t feel ‘em already, it won’t make a difference. I hardly doubt you want to be lending me anything anyway. Not in this state.” 

[contritum-coluber-blog]

avgvstvsrookwood:

His frown only deepened the longer Severus went on. None of it was making any sense. He needed help, but he couldn’t tell him. He needed to leave, but apparently someone, or multiple someones, were after him. And they’d obviously already done something to him, to send him into a state like this. But he didn’t even know who they were?

Augustus shook his head slightly, trying to think clearly. One of them had to think clearly.

It was hard to think clearly like this, though. With Severus trying to hold back sobs, leaning against him like he was the only think keeping him there. His only instinct was gingerly put an arm around Severus’s shoulders, which felt completely stupid but seemed like the only thing he could do to help at the moment.

“I’m already involved, Sev. If someone fucks with you, they fuck with me. I’m involved, and so Ambrose,” he said, giving Sev’s arm a squeeze before reaching down for Ambrose and putting him in Severus’s lap.

“There’s always something we can do. I’m gonna help you. I have an empire at my disposal, thousands of people, millions of dollars, I can do something, Sev. But not if you don’t tell me what the fuck happened to you, okay?” he said gently. He didn’t really know if anything he could say would actually make Severus talk, given how completely out of it he was, how completely distraught he was. He’d never been good at comforting people, and this didn’t seem to be the exception. He tried again.

“If you really need to get out of England, we can get you out. Alright? But for now, how about I make us some tea. I’ve got some amazing shite from India that’ll make you feel like you’re being warmed up from the inside out.”

His hand automatically went for the dog, his fingers seeking the silky fur to run through. At any other point, being handed the dog would have made him feel like a petulant child being handed a toy to appease him. At any other point, he would have interacted a little more with the dog, respond to the gentle licks and nips at his fingers, but all he could focus on was the movement. 

Back and forth, back and forth, his fingers working their way up the mutt’s back. He was still leant against Augustus, his eyes clenching tightly, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to flow, but he was drained. The energy spike that had brought him to Gus’s door had faded, leaving him tired and empty, not quite sure what to do or say or feel. 

“I-” His fingers went back up to his hair, running through the remaining strands. Regulus had made good work of his his locks, shaving them down until there was barely enough to catch between his fingers. It just made the scar more obvious. 

“It’s the tech, Gus. They want the tech.”  His hand was trembling again and he let go of the dog, before his finger began to grip too tightly. 

“All the money and the people don’t matter. They won’t stop. I’m one of the lucky bastards that had the first transplant, and they want it.” His stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat. “I’ve known there was someone for ages. It’s been weird, things have happened, I’ve kept seeing patterns, the same people at the same places, but I didn’t think it was me they wanted..but they want it.” His hands crept to his arms, brushing self-consciously over the bruises and scars that had just started to heal. “They’ve made it perfectly clear they don’t need me alive to get what they want, but I can’t let them take it, Gus, I can’t. I don’t know what they plan to do with it, but there’s no way they get it out of me without rendering me brain dead, and if they try and change the coding then maybe the could take control of me and you know, you know that’s always been what I’ve worried about!” He pushed himself up, needing to move, needing to pace. 

“There’s nothing I can do except run, but everywhere I go, even the places no-one knows except for us, they always find me. What happens when I can’t run, Gus? What happens then?” 

He stilled, his knees threatening to give way. 

“Tea. Tea would be good.” 

[contritum-coluber-blog]

inwaiting:

He held the unlit cigarette between his teeth as he fished for his lighter, passing it off to Snape in exchange for the blade – like some kind of fair trade, one possible weapon for another, like it might make the nervous man in front of him feel better about passing off his knife. Even with his head ducked down, Snape was tall, tall enough that he wouldn’t be able to do this comfortable without him sitting down, and asking him to sit down when he was this flighty didn’t seem like the smartest move.

He braced one hand, gentle, hesitant, at the base of Snape’s neck, thumb along his prominent spine, fingers curling around his skull to give him some purchase as he flipped the knife around in his hand to get a decent angle, looking at the missed patches of hair to figure out where the best place to start would be.

     “This’d be easier with clippers, mate,” he muttered through his clenched teeth, around the cigarette, slicing though a thin line of hair at the nape of his neck, trying to make it even with any of the varying lengths of already-cut hair on his scalp. “Cleaner, too.” 

Careful with the skin around the long, angry scar, he kept at it, cutting through hair in a half-methodical pattern, trying to make sure not to miss any near the back, where Severus had missed the most. 

     “I could put out a fake hit on you, help you fake your death if you want.” 

He said it casually, like it was something he offered every day. Like it was the easiest thing in the world, no trouble at all. He didn’t need to know what Severus’ problem was, as much as he wanted to know; Sev was a friend, of sorts, and after all, this was what the Syndicate did. If he needed to disappear, they’d give him the means.

He gently took the cigarette and held it between his thumb and finger. He didn’t even have a lighter. He hadn’t bothered going home, he didn’t know what state he would find his few possessions in. He just hoped that they hadn’t found the money the imperix under the floorboards. 

Standing awkwardly, he just let the fag roll between his fingers, watching with disinterest as his fingers slowly began to mark the paper. He grunted, an attempt at humour, but his face told all.

There was a gentle brush at the back of his neck and he flinched. Eyes flickering shut, he tried to concentrate on the cigarette, concentrate on what he could have, what was just out of his reach. 

It was Regulus. He wouldn’t hurt him. He was here to help.  Help. 

“I was never a l-looker to begin with, but I appreciate the effort. Maybe it’ll make me look a little tougher, scare off all those old ladies just that little bit more.”

He stilled, thinking he heard a snap. A snap, a cough, some steps, he couldn’t tell what it was, but the jolt it sent through his heart made him want to throw up. They had found him, and he had just made it even easier for them to find him. If his scatty behaviour didn’t give him away, the giant fucking scar across the back of his head would. 

His hand went to his pocket, but the knife was currently being worked through his hair, cutting it to pieces. He had nothing. 

“It wouldn’t help. T-thanks, but at this stage, I’m not sure what would.” His tone bitter, he noticed only too late the two halves of the cigarette pulled apart in his palm. He shoved it into the back pocket of the jeans he was wearing, gingerly ignoring the stains his finger brushed past.  It was funny. He’d run out of ideas, legal or not. Even dying, dramatic as it would, wouldn’t help. It wasn’t him they wanted, it was what was inside of him. They would find his body, they wouldn’t stop until they did. 

“It’s just a bit of a pickle, mate. I-just.” He let out a sigh, tired of dodging around the edges. “I just.” A sniff. He could disguise it as a cold, he knew he;d had the sniffles for a few days now. “I just don’t know.” 

[contritum-coluber-blog]

avgvstvsrookwood:  

“Stop, stop, stop,” he practically begged as Severus started banging his hand against his head, against the scar from his modtech. He was tempted to literally grab Sev’s hand, but that seemed like the exactly wrong thing to do, so he stopped himself. 

This whole thing had to be about his modtech, but he’d never really known how to handle this sort of thing. He could handle Severus when he was high off his arse, when he was blackout drunk, but he couldn’t figure out how the hell to help when he was like this. The only thing he knew to do was just sit there with him and wait it out until things got better. But this time, it didn’t seem like things were going to get better that quickly. 

So he didn’t know what exactly to do with all of this. He didn’t know how to help him. 

His words certainly didn’t seem to be helping him at all, which left him at a bit of a loss. All he knew to do was to keep his hand on his back, and keep himself breathing steadily enough for the both of them. Which was difficult considering the fact that Severus was nearly hyperventilating now, digging his fingernails into the pristine couch, barely even able to get the words out when he tried to keep speaking. All he could do was rub his back ever so slightly, hoping that would help calm him down even a bit.

“I know I don’t know, Sev. You have to tell me, though, or else I can’t help,” he said, voice gentle. “What wasn’t your fault? Did someone hurt you? If someone’s after you, we’ll take care of them. Like I said, if you’re with me, you’re safe.”

There was a pause, when he realized that Ambrose had padded into the room slowly, and was now sitting at Severus’s feet, leaning ever so slightly on his leg. “Look, see, Ambrose is here. Everything’s gonna be alright now.”

Oh God oh God oh God oh God. 

Everything was going to shit. The hand on his back was a tether, attempting to drag his sanity, but with every breath, he was struggling to find it. 

How did he explain it? His friend would never believe him, no-one would. He was struggling to comprehend it himself. He didn’t know who they were, how they had found him, how they knew so much about him. He had racked his brain, in the numerous hours he’d been alone, hiding, but he still knew no more. He’d gone to all his contacts, all those that knew more than he would ever know. They’d searched the streets, but there was only rumours awaiting him. Rumours of what they wanted, rumours of what they would do to get it. 

It made him want to throw himself off the nearest cliff. At least it would hurt less. 

“The minute I  t-tell you..” He swallowed, cheeks burning as he refused to look at his friend. Safe. The idea was laughable, had he had enough energy.“The minute I tell you, you get involved. I-I can’t have that. I just need help.” 

NO. That still sounded like he wanted to drag Gus into it. He couldn’t. 

“I n-need help getting out of here. Knockturn. E-England. Whatever.”

There was a nudge at his leg and he looked down, his hand automatically reaching down for the dog. He’d heard of therapy dogs before, but somehow Ambrose was more than that. He was a constant in Severus’ life. That was rare. But they would find him. They would find all of them. Human’s weren’t out of their limits, he doubted dogs were safe. He dreaded to think what would happen. He couldn’t have another friend hurt on his behalf. 

He shrugged backwards, falling against Augustus. “It’s not going to be alright.” His eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t even. I don’t even k-know who they are. What they are. Where they stop.” A sob, the first he had let out. Fuck. This was so embarrassing. 

“This time there’s nothing we can do.” 

[contritum-coluber-blog]

inwaiting:

He took his hand off his gun as soon as he was sure it was him, lifting it in the air with his other hand so that Sev could see both of them. After the last time he’d seen him – beating the shit out of a guy in the Riddle for looking at him wrong, knuckles torn to shreds from the force of it and out of his mind with the destructive impulse of his modtech – he knew he needed to be careful, cautious. There was no telling what he’d do.

But damn if Regulus wasn’t curious at the words that came out of his mouth, or at the poor excuse for a haircut that came into view as Regulus stepped slowly towards him.

Someone was looking for him – following him? That much was clear from his words. That, or he was getting more paranoid than he’d been before. But Regulus, for some reason, believed him, believed instinctively that something must’ve happened, a deal gone wrong or a run in with the wrong crowd. He didn’t doubt that Severus, irreverent Severus, had actually gotten himself in over his head with something.

     “Course I haven’t seen you,” he assured him. “Not in weeks. No bloody idea where you are. Probably fled the country or something, maybe died in your bathtub and haven’t started to smell enough for your neighbors to notice yet.”

He shrugged, pulling hid cigarettes out of his pocket. He couldn’t suppress his curiosity: he wanted to know what the fuck had happened, and there was one way he knew to get Severus talking, a simple combination of nicotine and alcohol. 

     “Fag?” he asked, holding out the pack as he took one between his teeth. “Could fix your hair, too, if you want. You look like you lost a fight with an angry hoover.”

His head darted to the side, following the firearm. He didn’t like how easily the boy carried it, how little thought he gave the weapon. When he got the modtech, if he got the tech, he would be a liability, even worse than Severus considered himself- 

Oh God. 

He knew the boy’s plans. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into, especially not now. There was no persuading Reg, he already knew that, but there was no time to talk to any of the people he knew who played any part in the process and, fuck, it was just another thing to worry about. His head felt like it was about to implode, all the neurons and wires struggling to pull themselves into any working order. 

His grip around the wood had tightened, the blade starting to press into his closed palm. He had a few hours, maybe even the rest of the morning before he needed to be on the move again. A few minutes conversation with him wouldn’t hurt. 

“That’s good. S-say I got in trouble, yeah? You don’t think I’ll be around for a while, tried to find some f-family or somthin’.”

His lips were trembling, the cold thickening his mess of an accent. Yes. A cigarette would be good. At the very least it would offer a spark of warmth that he hadn’t felt in a while. 

Nodding slowly, he edged forward, knife in hand. Eyes locked with his friend’s- (friend? he didn’t know what they were at this time. he was sure after this the boy wouldn’t want anything to do with him again. he didn’t blame him.), he held the poor excuse for a weapon out, careful not to offer him the dangerous side. 

“Yeah. Please.” 

He lowered his head a little, turning before he could catch any hint of sympathy. He was taller than the boy, though a lot skinnier, and the days running only empathised that difference. The scar. He’d be right next to the scar. It was ugly, stretching it’s way across the back of his head. He’d always grown his hair to cover it, but now that protection was gone.

“I-”

[contritum-coluber-blog]

avgvstvsrookwood:

He had to stop himself from jerking away when Severus grabbed him by the shoulders, clutching desperately, fingers freezing against his bare skill. It sent chills down his spine. What was even worse was that he knew that look, he knew what was probably going on in Severus’s head at the moment. It had to be the modtech. That paranoia that sometimes just seemed to blindly take him over, that made all logic fly out the window, a thousand times worse than any bad high either of them had ever experienced. Mostly because it wasn’t because of something that would go away. It could happen any time, no matter what.

When he finally let go, and fell onto the white, plush sofa, burying himself in the pillows, Augustus was frozen in his place for a second. He wanted to help, but he had no idea how. He was shite enough at helping himself, that he hardly knew what to do with Severus just now. His instinct, a stupid instinct, was to make bloody tea, but he didn’t really think that was going to help at this point, not with how deep Sev seemed to be into this paranoia.

All he could do was turn on the gas fireplace, in hopes of warming him up a bit. He grabbed one of the grey blankets off of the back of the couch, and sat down nearly next to Severus, making sure to keep a bit of distance, before sort of half-heartedly draping the blanket over Sev’s shoulders, hoping it wasn’t going to scare him.

“No, no, no, the last thing you need to do is leave. If someone’s after you, they’re not going to be able get you here. I’ve got associates watching the flat at all hours, ready for anything. You’re safe if you’re with me,” he said, trying to be comforting–that didn’t sound quite as comforting as he meant, though. He had to try again, but Snape’s nerves were only setting him on edge, his heart thumping against chest painfully.

I’m in trouble.

That was something he could work with better, something tangible. But he still felt lost as to how to help without anything more. He had to calm him down if he wanted to help him at all.

“Listen to me, alright? Listen,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper, soft. He hesitated before putting a hand on his back, trying to ground him somehow. “You’ve got to calm down and tell me what’s wrong. Try to breathe for a second, okay? Breathe with me. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. Try it, Sev, yeah?”

He could be in Manchester in three hours. Scotland in a few more. From there, with the few notes he had spread around his flat, he could be anywhere. Iceland sounded nice. It was secluded, there were many places for him to get pissed, and he’d always had a little bit of a thing for blondes.

But they would find him. He’d been running for too long to know that they could. There was no place he could hide. They’d found him at the airport before he’d even been able to book a ticket.

‘Security check’.

He’d seen the malice in the man’s eyes, the way that his eyes stuck to the back of his head like they’d be stuck there. It had made him want to throw up, it was as they were analysing how they were planning to slice his head open as he was standing there.

“You’re- I’m not. You don’t know.”

He was getting frustrated, his voice getting scratchy.  At least he wasn’t crying anymore. His hand began to knock against his head, bashing against the scar. If only he could just teat it our and everything would be fine. He could feel their eyes on him, even with the windows shut. They were watching him, waiting for him to step outside. He’d dodged a needle once, they’d underestimated the amount of drugs needed to make him incompetent. They wouldn’t make that mistake again.

He felt a light brush against his back and he looked up at Augustus with a start, eyes shining. He went to reply, but his mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. Instead, he tried to listen to the words, but soothing as they were, he began to panic more. His attempts at speaking became gasps, his fingers digging into the cushion below him.

“Y-you know the worst part?” Another gasp, his heart palpating. He was going to throw up, he needed to get some fresh air. “This time, it wasn’t even my fault.”  

[contritum-coluber-blog]

inwaiting:

He usually ran in the mornings.

In the bright morning light, in the clear quiet of the park, in his running clothes, before donning the jeans and jacket he worse for business, Regulus was a different person when he ran. The person who lived in Kensington, the person who used to play football, the person who thrived by daylight and had no real taste for the dark.

He didn’t like to mix the two, when he could help it.

But christ he’d been bored, sitting in the stuffy overheated backroom of Kingfishers between meetings, still tense from the pressure of the past few days. He’d even taken to pacing the front room, to cleaning off the chipping linoleum of the booth tables, clearing away red plastic trays from those brave enough or drunk enough to venture in for chips this late at night.

( How had Orion done it, night after night? How had he not gone mad? )

And so he’d ran. A quick jog through the area, the sting of fresh cold air in his lungs, the winding streets and the sky so dark he’d practically gotten lost before he realized where he was and–

His hand was on his gun, tucked in the holster under his leather jacket and thank god he’d brought it, this was the second time in a week and a half he’d been ambushed in a fucking alleyway. His other hand went up, a show that he meant no harm but he’d do it if he had to, if he was attacked first.

     “Whoa,” he said, stopping in his tracks, loosening the gun from its place at his side, his eyes struggling momentarily to adjust to the darkness, trying to make out a face through the shadow and then through the layers of clothing, the familiar tattoos on the little exposed skin he could see –

     “Snape? Is that you?”

Feet planted, teeth bared- was he an animal? He was reverting back to base instincts, the desire to slash, to cut, to get rid of the obstruction any way that he could - he faced the figure. 

He could see their defensive stance, saw the hand that went automatically for their pocket. They were expecting him to react, expecting to have to use the gun; he’d always known they didn’t care what state he arrived in. They just wanted the tech, it didn’t matter if he was missing a few pints of blood. 

“I said-”

He stopped in his tracks, hand falling slack to his side. The knife remained, his fingers gripping tightly around the wood until he was sure that he could feel his heartbeat through his fingers, but the intent to hurt, the intent to escape was fading fast. This was a familiar face, not a face that he could trust, but a face he could trust not to be on the wrong side. 

Hand raking slowly through the remainder of his hair, his nails scraping awkwardly against the chunks of long hair that he had missed. 

What could he say? How could he explain this behaviour? He didn’t need Regulus thinking he was any stranger than he did already. 

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen him drunk, or even aggressive. He’d had one his low moments around Regulus..but this was a new low. 

“You haven’t seen me, yeah?” He pulled the jacket tighter around him, hiding his frame. He didn’t need his friend to see that state he had gotten himself into. 

“If someone asks, I’m on holiday. Just say I’m in Bali or something, yeah?” 

[contritum-coluber-blog]

avgvstvsrookwood:

It had been such a week. The kind of week that left Augustus getting even less sleep than he usually did, which was saying something, as it was normal for him to sleep for four hours a night and no more. No sleep, that was what happened when he just couldn’t get his mind to stop moving. It didn’t happen often. It used to happen a lot when he was still shoveling all of that shite into his body, but nowadays, it just didn’t happen. So this was a low.

He’d abandoned trying to meditate, as it didn’t seem to be doing a damn thing tonight, in favor of sitting at his piano in just his underwear, absentmindedly brushing the keys with his fingers, not really focused on what he was playing. Ambrose was most likely off sleeping soundly in Augustus’s bed, not even aware of his restless master. There was an unlit cigarette resting in between his lips, as if just having it there, but not lighting it, would give him the same kind of comfort smoking did. 

[It didn’t.]

There was a loud, desperate sounding knock, no, bang at his front door that made his heart stop. He grabbed his phone, which had been sat on the edge of the piano. It was four in the morning. No texts, no calls missed that would have warranted a visit at this time of night. He considered ignoring it. But there it was again, this time accompanied by a strained, hoarse shout of his name. Of Gus.

And that one sent his heart pounding like it would never beat again. He was to the front door in a matter of seconds. Pulling the door open, he was a little more than shocked to see the state of Severus, all battered and bloody, hair a complete mess, looking like the living dead.

“What the fuck happened to you, Sev? Jesus, get in here,” he breathed, practically pulling him inside, shutting and locking the door before ushering him into the living room. “You look like you’ve been to hell and back. Are you alright? Shite, that’s a stupid question, you’re obviously not alright. Sit down.”

It felt like a lifetime before the door was pulled open. He could still hear the whispers in the darkest corners of the room. He half expected to feel them pull at his shirt, tug him back down the stairs and drag him back down to their depths. 

Mind spinning at an incomprehensible speed, he was plotting his escape routes as the hinges spun. He’d been to the place too many times to count, but now every cupboard, every room suddenly became dangerous. He needed a way out, no matter where he was stuck. He knew could trust Gus, God, he would trust him in the blink of an eye, but suddenly the residence became a den that made his stomach turn. 

He didn’t answer his friend, instead stumbling on his feet to look behind him. Hands clutching at Gus’ shoulders, his eyes darted around the room with a wild desperation. He needed to make sure the room was clear, he wouldn’t have put it past them. 

 They had eyes everywhere, he couldn’t be here for long. He didn’t need to drag Augustus into this.  

“I-”

Hands trembling, he fell into the sofa, a groan escaping from his mouth as the pillows swallowed him in its downy touch. He’d have been happy with the carpet, but the softness against his skin brought tears to his eyes. 

“I n-need to leave.” 

His teeth were chattering, knocking against each other with a strength he couldn’t quite handle. He was soaked to the bone, a chill running through his centre with a bite he was sure he would never shake, but he knew his tics weren’t down to the cold. 

                                                                        “Fuck.”

His head fell to his hands, his knees bouncing up and down, up and down as he tried to hold back the tears. He hated crying, especially in front of his friends. It was embarrassing, he was a pussy, barely able to hold himself together. 

“I’m in trouble.”