Chapter Text
The war getting darker with each passing hour, there wasn’t any way Severus was going to get a job as a scrawny muggle raised half breed. He hated himself even more than he thought was possible as the hours rolled by as he stood on the chilly street hour outside of the Hogshead. Someone was bound to stumble out and feel an urge, an animalistic urge, as all men do, and look to the nearest thing to relieve it, which would hopefully be him (at a price, of course.)
Perhaps he simply was too ugly? Too repulsive, too boney and disgusting? Severus wouldn’t be shocked, he’d come to terms with his odd looks at an early age, the first time anyone had made comments about his overly large nose, limbs too long, body too thin, that had been when he knew he wasn’t the untraditional beauty his mother tried to depicture him as.
The slam of the pub’s doors sounded in the icy evening air as an old drunken wizard made his way down the road, one foot in front of the other. He wasn’t bad looking but any charm the man had was washed away by the awful smell of ale that reeked from him. He smelt like Severus’s father had, the musk of yeast thick on the Johns clothing.
Severus shuffled forward, his body partially revealed in the rudy orange light from the streetlamp, his presence made aware to the drunk.
The man paused and peering up at the small figure that loomed half in the darkness, as if afraid to be properly seen. The beer bottle slipped from his thick, grubby, paw-like hands and clinked as it hit the gravel path, rolling downhill. “Boy,” The man slurred, pulling a bag of coins from his pocket.
Severus lingered; what a dehumanizing word boy was. Nevertheless, that was his new working title, after all, Call Boy. He approached anyway. Severus had his long, black hair in a braid, a fringe left to try and hide his crooked face. He knew the men preferred the long hair, as if, maybe, if he acted more feminine, it would relieve them from the sin of knowing they’d be with a man?
Severus was, in nature, a very feminine person. Being androgynous was his talent, being able to confuse those upon his gender, although it could cause unwanted attention from the more traditionally muggle folk of their wizarding community, however, the gender binary was very much destroyed by purebloods and their elite ways. Their fixation on blood had disregarded the usual gender roles that muggle society thrive off of. Severus didn’t mind that at all, and on his darkest, more isolated days, he craved to be locked up house husband, simply so he wouldn’t be in charge of his own fucked up life for once.
Once in arms reach, the John grabbed Severus by the collar of his thin robes and shoved the bag of coins into the lad's pockets. The nameless bloke was rough, manhandling Severus into a nearby alleyway and up against the walls. “Sober me, eh. Wouldn’t--” He stumbled over his words with a growl, “He-he wouldn’t do this. In an alleyway, dirty, it is.” He grunted, both their trousers around their ankles. The man made a noise of disgust as he licked his finger and roughly shoved it inside Severus.
Saliva was not a good lube, Severus had discovered, these past few months, but he bit down on his lip and kept quiet, apart from forcing out a sweet sound, which the man replied with another groan.
Another word Severus hated was dirty. It was an awful word, such shame around it, the word shame was dirty in itself, but there was a long list of things Severus hated and he could go from them all night but instead, he had a man go through him instead.
They fucked in the darkness of the alleyway, none of the light of the full moon would reach them in this deep, dirty, shameful backstreet as a man came inside a boy. It was very, very early in the morning when the man finally got off Severus, pulling out as cum oozed from a stretched, sore hole. The John left, sobering up, and leaving the scene of his crime, as Severus cleaned himself up with a quick charm that got rid of the smell and the sensation of gooeyness. He hadn’t come, but his father had always said there was no way to get pleasure out of work, other than cash in hand.
Severus managed to make his way to the Hogsmeade train station, using the alleyways he worked in as cover, the cover of shadows as good as an invisibility cloak. The train station had been his home since the end of Hogwarts, sleeping roughly on the benches on the emptiness platforms. Nobody used the train station, unless it was students of Hogwarts entering or leaving, otherwise the place was dead, thanks to the inventions of floo’s and apparation.
He curled up on one of the old iron benches, his back angry at him for another rough night, as he could feel the flu creeping its way into his bones as the coldness swallowed him up, his thin cloak doing nothing to stop it.
--
Birds were chirping, as a voice whispered his name harshly.
“Snape! Severus, Severus!”
A hand shook him gently, at first, but when no reply or response was given, it became more of an urgent thrust.
“Snape!”
Severus finally opened his black eyes, the bags around them just as dark as their pupils, as he slowly sat up to address the person who felt it was necessary to wake him from the little slumber he gets. When he finally rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the person before him came into focus.
A shirtless man, scars running across his pale chest. His trousers were old, patchy with sewed up holes. His eyes lingered on the body before going to the face, his brain still chilled from the night, defrosting and processing.
Severus gulped.
Remus Lupin. The brightest teal eyes he had ever seen, two long scars ran across his face, one was right over his nose and the other under his left eye. Brown stubble and the start of a mustache made the man look scruff. He held his shirt and cloak in his hand, they looked torn and shredded.
“What are you doing here?” Lupins whisper was filled with concern.