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wildestrangerI was going to not post any fic for a while (see, no character), but then I realised that today was an anniversary of sorts, as it was precisely one year ago that I innocently (no, really, I'd only read pirateporn before that) went to look up some HP fanfic in the internet, and Remus Lupin ate my brain. This fic is an attempt to explain something about why he tugs at my heartstrings and makes my cry like a baby (on the inside, obviously. stiff upper lip and all that). It doesn't explain everything, but perhaps something. And there's no sex in it.
Title: take this soul stranded in some skin and bones
Genre: Genfic
Pairing: None. No, I can't believe it either. Remus/Sirius if you squint.
Words: 1610
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters, I have no permission to use them and I am making no money out of this. No infringement of copyright is intended.
Summary: After the Prank, Remus broods.
Warnings: No porn. No plot. No fascinating wordplay. No fun and excitement of any kind. Consider yourself warned.
Title from U2's song Yahweh
take this soul stranded in some skin and bones
Remus wakes up because his heart is beating too fast. Not unlike a hangover (what he can remember from that one time), there is pounding in his head and the sheets around him are strangling him, making him too hot. His body is used to dealing with cuts and strains quickly, his heart beating the healing blood where it is needed. Unfortunately, all this activity makes the adrenaline flow, and makes it difficult for him to sleep. He’d really like to sleep now.
As the nausea swells up, he takes a deep breath and sits up a little, reaches for a glass of water. Someone pushes it into his hand with a mumbled “Here you go,” and Remus opens one eye to peer at who it is.
Sirius has bruises all over his face, and one deep cut over his cheekbone, but his face doesn’t make Remus think friendcomfortbeautiful, like it usually does. There’s something in the back of his head, a nameless dread that he doesn’t quite remember. He drinks the water and decides he doesn’t need to remember it now.
The coolness of his pillow is heaven, and he sleeps.
: :
The next time Remus wakes up, it’s morning and the sound of rain is coming through the windows. The bed is warm, and there’s a curl of contentment in his stomach because he knows he doesn’t have to get up yet. A vague sense of nausea remains, and the skin on his nose and cheeks is pricking in a way that tells him there will be scars. But that doesn’t really matter yet, not as long as he doesn’t have to move.
“Moony?”
Sirius’ voice is quiet, and rough like the morning after a party spent shouting over music.
“Moony? I know you’re awake.”
Remus breathes out, and in, deeply and slowly and tries to convince his heart there’s no reason to panic and make him throw up.
“How?”
“You start moving. When you’re asleep you’re completely still, but when you wake up you start twitching and moving. I’ve noticed.”
Remus stops trying to breathe because his heart jumps and his pulse starts to beat faster. Dread over the idea of Sirius watching him while he sleeps is mixed with delight that he has decided not to acknowledge.
He has started to fall asleep again before Sirius speaks.
“ I have to talk to you. There’s something. About last night. I mean, something I did last night.”
Remus tries to concentrate on his breathing, but the nausea is rising again, with scratched memories and a blurred sense of horror that is making his hands shake.
“I told Snape how to get to the Shrieking Shack. He was saying things about you, and I told him how to find you. He saw you before James found him and pulled him back. He saw you.”
A part of Remus’ brain focuses on how unlike Sirius this statement is, without flourishes and self-aggrandizement, without excuses even. He seems keen for Remus to know what he’s done.
“Snape knows?”
“Yeah. But he’s not going to say anything, Dumbledore talked to him, he’s not going to…cause any trouble.”
“I see.”
Remus tells himself he shouldn’t be surprised. This is Sirius, after all, careless and stupid, even with things he cares about. Not that Remus would count himself among them.
“Remus? I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I didn’t think what would happen. I’m sorry.”
Remus doesn’t want to think about Sirius just now.
“I want to sleep.”
Remus hears half a sob, but doesn’t open his eyes to see.
“Remus. Please.”
“Go away, Sirius. I’ll speak to you later.”
The hospital wing is quiet after Sirius has left, but Remus is excruciatingly aware that at any moment someone might come in and look at him and talk to him. His bed in the dormitory is slightly better, but there are also three boys who don’t seem to understand the concept of privacy. The only safety is inside his own body, and Remus concentrates on the scars he can feel forming, and the throbbing pain under the bruises. He moves his leg, stretches it into its full length, and then twists. The joints in his knee burst in agony, and Remus bites his lip to keep from screaming. Only when the pain has dulled down to a steady ache, he begins to think about what Sirius said.
Snape knows he’s a werewolf. Sirius told him where to find Remus. James saved Snape. Snape is not going to tell anyone, because Dumbledore spoke to him. Remus didn’t kill him, or bite him. Remus is not going to be put down.
Sirius told him.
Remus believes that Sirius didn’t mean to, didn’t think. Sirius is reckless and foolish and wicked and beautiful. Remus knows he is included in the people Sirius is loyal to, not even because Sirius cares about Remus (don’t go there, don’t) but because Remus is one of the Marauders and the Marauders are home to Sirius. As much as Sirius needs to fling himself against the world, to oppose and defy and fight, he also needs something that won’t attack him and look for his weak points. The way Sirius has constructed himself requires the Marauders to be on his side, and him to be on their side. Most importantly James, but also Remus and Peter. Sirius would not intentionally harm him.
Remus can imagine what Snape said, the kind of things Snape says. How that would make Sirius let loose his torrent of poisonous wit, all the more damaging for requiring no effort, or, apparently, conscious thought. Sirius doesn’t think when he does it, the words seem to form themselves on his perfect lips, and with devastating aim. And if Remus’ secret came out as well, it would have been because somehow that was the best way to hurt Snape, and at that moment nothing else mattered.
Remus is used to forgiving Sirius, he forgives a thousand mindless things everyday, just as forgives James his carelessness and Peter his resentment. What would happen if he didn’t would be unbearable.
And yet.
Dumbledore comes and speaks to him, talks long and seriously about consequences, and the necessity of being careful, and trust. He tells Remus that he should stay in the hospital wing for a few days and rest, even though his wounds are mostly healed. Remus says little, nods every now and again. When Dumbledore leaves with a twinkle in his eyes, Remus refuses to smile.
: :
The corridors are dark when Remus leaves, but there is no one to see his stumbling steps. He walks slowly, leaning against the wall, every step stretching the new scar on his thigh. Every few minutes he stops to rest.
He has become used to James or Sirius being there with him, shoulders under his arms or hands by his elbow, making sure he doesn’t fall. Conversations distracting him from the pain, jokes and stories making him forget his body. But he wants to remember it now.
He keeps up with his homework, reads in advance and teaches himself to learn things quickly. It has become a point of pride that he doesn’t let his condition affect his studies, that he can still do things. His friends are there to help, and he has learned to let them, accept borrowed notes, stolen food, and a hand on his back. It will take time to unlearn that.
The stairs are difficult, bending his knees and lifting his feet becoming more and more painful. He really doesn’t want to do it again the next day, in front of everyone. He stops to wait for the next staircase, and hopes the bones on his hand, which is gripping the balustrade, won’t shatter. They are still fragile.
The nausea is also there, but Remus knows it isn’t because of the transformation anymore. He will learn to control it, just as he has learned to control his breathing and his homework and the ache in his limbs. He can learn to say nice things to people, and make himself look harmless, and useful, and good to have around, so he won’t have to depend on his friends. He knows how to learn.
Sirius is lying on his bed when he comes in, curled into a ball with the curtains drawn around him. Remus watches as Sirius struggles to wake up and sit.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be back yet. I just. Well.”
Remus feels faint suddenly, but the touch of Sirius’ hands, trying to catch him as he falls, makes it worse.
“ My God, Moony, are you all right. Of course you’re not, that’s stupid, but…”
“Sirius. I’m very tired and I’d like to go to bed.”
Sirius scrambles up and tries to help Remus lie down, but Remus pushes him away. Sirius continues to stand next to his bed.
“Sirius. Go to bed.”
The hitch in Sirius’ breathing is harsh and loud in the sleeping room. But he starts to walk away.
Remus listens, and thinks, and then thinks why not, it doesn’t really matter anyway.
“I forgive you.”
Sirius turns around and his smile is broken, barely visible in the dark room. Remus remembers how that smile would have made him feel just a few days ago.
“Good night, Remus.”
“Good night, Sirius.”
Remus lies still, and waits for the rush in his blood and the pounding in his ears to calm down. The pain in his body will become bearable in a few hours. He concentrates on his breathing.
Title: take this soul stranded in some skin and bones
Genre: Genfic
Pairing: None. No, I can't believe it either. Remus/Sirius if you squint.
Words: 1610
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters, I have no permission to use them and I am making no money out of this. No infringement of copyright is intended.
Summary: After the Prank, Remus broods.
Warnings: No porn. No plot. No fascinating wordplay. No fun and excitement of any kind. Consider yourself warned.
Title from U2's song Yahweh
take this soul stranded in some skin and bones
Remus wakes up because his heart is beating too fast. Not unlike a hangover (what he can remember from that one time), there is pounding in his head and the sheets around him are strangling him, making him too hot. His body is used to dealing with cuts and strains quickly, his heart beating the healing blood where it is needed. Unfortunately, all this activity makes the adrenaline flow, and makes it difficult for him to sleep. He’d really like to sleep now.
As the nausea swells up, he takes a deep breath and sits up a little, reaches for a glass of water. Someone pushes it into his hand with a mumbled “Here you go,” and Remus opens one eye to peer at who it is.
Sirius has bruises all over his face, and one deep cut over his cheekbone, but his face doesn’t make Remus think friendcomfortbeautiful, like it usually does. There’s something in the back of his head, a nameless dread that he doesn’t quite remember. He drinks the water and decides he doesn’t need to remember it now.
The coolness of his pillow is heaven, and he sleeps.
: :
The next time Remus wakes up, it’s morning and the sound of rain is coming through the windows. The bed is warm, and there’s a curl of contentment in his stomach because he knows he doesn’t have to get up yet. A vague sense of nausea remains, and the skin on his nose and cheeks is pricking in a way that tells him there will be scars. But that doesn’t really matter yet, not as long as he doesn’t have to move.
“Moony?”
Sirius’ voice is quiet, and rough like the morning after a party spent shouting over music.
“Moony? I know you’re awake.”
Remus breathes out, and in, deeply and slowly and tries to convince his heart there’s no reason to panic and make him throw up.
“How?”
“You start moving. When you’re asleep you’re completely still, but when you wake up you start twitching and moving. I’ve noticed.”
Remus stops trying to breathe because his heart jumps and his pulse starts to beat faster. Dread over the idea of Sirius watching him while he sleeps is mixed with delight that he has decided not to acknowledge.
He has started to fall asleep again before Sirius speaks.
“ I have to talk to you. There’s something. About last night. I mean, something I did last night.”
Remus tries to concentrate on his breathing, but the nausea is rising again, with scratched memories and a blurred sense of horror that is making his hands shake.
“I told Snape how to get to the Shrieking Shack. He was saying things about you, and I told him how to find you. He saw you before James found him and pulled him back. He saw you.”
A part of Remus’ brain focuses on how unlike Sirius this statement is, without flourishes and self-aggrandizement, without excuses even. He seems keen for Remus to know what he’s done.
“Snape knows?”
“Yeah. But he’s not going to say anything, Dumbledore talked to him, he’s not going to…cause any trouble.”
“I see.”
Remus tells himself he shouldn’t be surprised. This is Sirius, after all, careless and stupid, even with things he cares about. Not that Remus would count himself among them.
“Remus? I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I didn’t think what would happen. I’m sorry.”
Remus doesn’t want to think about Sirius just now.
“I want to sleep.”
Remus hears half a sob, but doesn’t open his eyes to see.
“Remus. Please.”
“Go away, Sirius. I’ll speak to you later.”
The hospital wing is quiet after Sirius has left, but Remus is excruciatingly aware that at any moment someone might come in and look at him and talk to him. His bed in the dormitory is slightly better, but there are also three boys who don’t seem to understand the concept of privacy. The only safety is inside his own body, and Remus concentrates on the scars he can feel forming, and the throbbing pain under the bruises. He moves his leg, stretches it into its full length, and then twists. The joints in his knee burst in agony, and Remus bites his lip to keep from screaming. Only when the pain has dulled down to a steady ache, he begins to think about what Sirius said.
Snape knows he’s a werewolf. Sirius told him where to find Remus. James saved Snape. Snape is not going to tell anyone, because Dumbledore spoke to him. Remus didn’t kill him, or bite him. Remus is not going to be put down.
Sirius told him.
Remus believes that Sirius didn’t mean to, didn’t think. Sirius is reckless and foolish and wicked and beautiful. Remus knows he is included in the people Sirius is loyal to, not even because Sirius cares about Remus (don’t go there, don’t) but because Remus is one of the Marauders and the Marauders are home to Sirius. As much as Sirius needs to fling himself against the world, to oppose and defy and fight, he also needs something that won’t attack him and look for his weak points. The way Sirius has constructed himself requires the Marauders to be on his side, and him to be on their side. Most importantly James, but also Remus and Peter. Sirius would not intentionally harm him.
Remus can imagine what Snape said, the kind of things Snape says. How that would make Sirius let loose his torrent of poisonous wit, all the more damaging for requiring no effort, or, apparently, conscious thought. Sirius doesn’t think when he does it, the words seem to form themselves on his perfect lips, and with devastating aim. And if Remus’ secret came out as well, it would have been because somehow that was the best way to hurt Snape, and at that moment nothing else mattered.
Remus is used to forgiving Sirius, he forgives a thousand mindless things everyday, just as forgives James his carelessness and Peter his resentment. What would happen if he didn’t would be unbearable.
And yet.
Dumbledore comes and speaks to him, talks long and seriously about consequences, and the necessity of being careful, and trust. He tells Remus that he should stay in the hospital wing for a few days and rest, even though his wounds are mostly healed. Remus says little, nods every now and again. When Dumbledore leaves with a twinkle in his eyes, Remus refuses to smile.
: :
The corridors are dark when Remus leaves, but there is no one to see his stumbling steps. He walks slowly, leaning against the wall, every step stretching the new scar on his thigh. Every few minutes he stops to rest.
He has become used to James or Sirius being there with him, shoulders under his arms or hands by his elbow, making sure he doesn’t fall. Conversations distracting him from the pain, jokes and stories making him forget his body. But he wants to remember it now.
He keeps up with his homework, reads in advance and teaches himself to learn things quickly. It has become a point of pride that he doesn’t let his condition affect his studies, that he can still do things. His friends are there to help, and he has learned to let them, accept borrowed notes, stolen food, and a hand on his back. It will take time to unlearn that.
The stairs are difficult, bending his knees and lifting his feet becoming more and more painful. He really doesn’t want to do it again the next day, in front of everyone. He stops to wait for the next staircase, and hopes the bones on his hand, which is gripping the balustrade, won’t shatter. They are still fragile.
The nausea is also there, but Remus knows it isn’t because of the transformation anymore. He will learn to control it, just as he has learned to control his breathing and his homework and the ache in his limbs. He can learn to say nice things to people, and make himself look harmless, and useful, and good to have around, so he won’t have to depend on his friends. He knows how to learn.
Sirius is lying on his bed when he comes in, curled into a ball with the curtains drawn around him. Remus watches as Sirius struggles to wake up and sit.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be back yet. I just. Well.”
Remus feels faint suddenly, but the touch of Sirius’ hands, trying to catch him as he falls, makes it worse.
“ My God, Moony, are you all right. Of course you’re not, that’s stupid, but…”
“Sirius. I’m very tired and I’d like to go to bed.”
Sirius scrambles up and tries to help Remus lie down, but Remus pushes him away. Sirius continues to stand next to his bed.
“Sirius. Go to bed.”
The hitch in Sirius’ breathing is harsh and loud in the sleeping room. But he starts to walk away.
Remus listens, and thinks, and then thinks why not, it doesn’t really matter anyway.
“I forgive you.”
Sirius turns around and his smile is broken, barely visible in the dark room. Remus remembers how that smile would have made him feel just a few days ago.
“Good night, Remus.”
“Good night, Sirius.”
Remus lies still, and waits for the rush in his blood and the pounding in his ears to calm down. The pain in his body will become bearable in a few hours. He concentrates on his breathing.
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Date: 2006-03-12 05:24 am (UTC)