![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
January 10th: Bury Me in Snow
I actually like this part very, very much. The darkest part of the story has just begun, and if anything goes right, this is the beginning of end of this series. There's this weird change of POV, but it's somewhat easy to iddentificate, and it just needed to be done if I wanted to bring Regulus in (whom I loved writing, by the way). I dragged Lily back in, just because I love her so much. XD
Title: Bury Me in Snow
Raiting: PG-13
Word Count: 1397
Author Notes: Tenth part in a series. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
blanketforts, with the promt Soup, which I managed to squeeze in at the last moment.
Fireworks series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10
Remus’ breath leaves him without saying goodbye, an invisible puff of air that he feels should be white, should be cold, should be powdered snow made out of oxygen.
Should be anything but the dread on the base of his stomach. Some people say the possibility of revenge tastes heavenly, exquisitely sweet with just a hint of strawberry icing.
They’re wrong. It tastes bitter.
---
Sirius speaks, about two nights before, and the rest listen.
---
Sirius finds Regulus playing chess by himself under the portrait of a Greek man in a toga, eyes so alike to his own fixed on the checkered game, the tip of his wand the only light along with the feeble moonlight. Sirius takes a deep breath, reminding himself why exactly is he doing this in the first place (an eternity of full moons nipping at the wolf’s fur, a thousand smiles from Remus’ lips he wants to keep in his memory forever), before lifting his chin and walking confidently towards him.
In the back of his mind, he can’t help but damn this world in which he needs an excuse to talk to his brother. Things used to be simple, siblings together as their mother shrieked in one of her madness attack, shadows and lights slithering in her vision and heavy fiery footsteps inside her ears.
Regulus turns his head when he hears the noise Sirius is deliberately making, but he doesn’t say anything, he just waits for Sirius to make the first movement, ready to devour his pawns and kill his king at the second move. This is their parent’s child, and Sirius feels a pang of regret for not having taken him out of Grimmauld Place. There would have been some hope for the small child that always stole his toys, then.
“Hello, Reg.” he keeps using the nickname, waiting for the frown in Regulus’ face as he scolds him for treating him as a child.
There’s none, though, and Regulus looks back into the board. He eats the white tower with his horse, and Sirius shivers. “Hello, Sirius.”
There’s no pleasantries exchanged. “So, did you get it then?” Sirius asks, trying not to sound as anxious as he feels, as the letter he had Owled Regulus just as he had got to Hogwarts after the funeral, the curves in his letters speaking of anger and desperation and confusion. No answer had come, but Regulus’ smile at lunches filled with people in between them had spoke on itself.
Information. That’s all he needs, all his brother can ever do for him.
“I was thinking, brother, do you remember that wonderful soup Kreacher used to make? I just miss it so.” Sirius says nothing (but remembers, the stiff dinners with the family, the silverware he had hoped would burn him just so he would have a way out). Regulus looks up at him, smirking with an expression so reminiscent of Bellatrix’s that Sirius wants to punch it out of his face. “I may. Or not. Who am I to judge when I’m not entirely aware of the reasons for my knowledge?”
Sirius grits his teeth, counting to ten in his head, trying to calm his temper. He reaches twenty-two, and he speaks again. “Look, you asshole, I’ve no time for your shit.” Regulus doesn’t look impressed. Instead he looks vaguely amused, an eyebrow raised in that gesture that annoys Peter so much when Sirius does it.
“Well I can hardly tell you if I don’t know the reasons why, now can I?” Regulus stands up, and this time, the fact that Sirius is still a couple of inches taller doesn’t give him any kind of comfort. This is a Slytherin negotiation, filled to the brim with loopholes and double intentions.
And still, Sirius doesn’t hesitate as he says “I’ll owe you a favor.” That gains Regulus’ attention, the words that for Purebloods sign a lifetime contract in blood with the Devil as witness. He smiles, predatory, so Black it feels like a blow in the gut to Sirius. “Do you, or do you not have the name?” Sirius says with his eyes almost closed, not bearing to see the future that has been written for his little brother.
Years later, Sirius would never forget when Regulus came to ask that last favor, grime on his face, tears on his eyes and a poisonous smell of Dark Magic all over him. Sirius closed the door on his face.
Regulus died the next day.
The candles have already gone out, and curfew has started some hours ago, but Regulus sits back with his chessman and his maddening grin. Only one word comes out of his lips.
“Rosier.”
---
The world moves again.
Remus doesn’t speak, doesn’t reason at all before he puts his shoes back on and runs down to the common room. He can hear yells behind him, but he can’t hear the confused voices of his friends as they run after him. He can feel Lily’s side as he crashes with her in the Common Room, but he can’t hear her yell of “What do you think you’re doing? It’s curfew already!” as he climbs through the hole, through the portrait, through the empty hallways.
He can count four pair of footsteps after him, and he is vaguely confused over this until he hears Lily’s ragged breathing behind. She asks for them to stop, and the three ignore her, while Remus’ brain doesn’t even acknowledge it. Remus runs as fast as he can, mindless but with one name running across his skull, down through stairs, moving and changing; through abandoned classrooms with layers of years and dust over their melancholic ache for students, through the marble steps (hopping over one, just at the top) and across the wooden doors, slightly ajar.
The storm is still raging outside, thick snowflakes darkening his vision in a lighted way, opposites in mere words. The snow reaches his knees when Hogwarts ends, and then the ground is white and the sky is dark and the world has turned itself upside down.
Remus wades through the coldness, legs getting damp in seconds and lips trembling out of the temperature, out of sorrow, out of anger. His wand is being clasped tightly in his hand, a part of himself he couldn’t get rid of even if he tried. He runs, jumping slightly in every step as to avoid the snow. A tingle of magic spreads around his back, but he doesn’t have time to think of just what exactly it is before Sirius tackles him from behind, a crude imitation of an earlier, warmer, fight.
“Get off!” Remus bellows over the deafening sound of the storm, snow coating his entire body as they roll with their momentum and the gentle slope. Lily shrieks somewhere behind them, and Remus punches Sirius in the jaw. Sirius returns the blow, and Remus’ left eye stings for a moment until adrenaline kicks back in.
“I won’t!” yells Sirius, as they struggle and try to hit as much skin as they can. “You’ve gone mad!”
“Let me go,” says Remus as his head sinks into soft snow, resurging with ice on his eyelashes, cold on his throat he can’t seem to swallow.
“I won’t let you do this, Remus. I will not let you lose your life over a stupid wish of revenge!”
Remus stills, for a moment, and amidst the veil of his blinding rage he can see Peter helping Lily through the Hogwarts’ gates, red-faced and looking somewhat scared. James follows, his wand lifted and a thin thread of light connecting it to himself.
He turns to Sirius, panting on top of him, and kisses him softly. “Goodbye,” he says, and kicks Sirius aside.
“No!” he can hear Peter say, and then they’re all running towards him, even Lily who doesn’t – shouldn’t – know anything about this.
He Apparates, muttering the name Rosier over and over to himself, wanting, magic searching for the recipient; world turning, swelling and bubbling before his eyes, whiteness trapped in his gaze (with an drowned voice in the back of his voice telling him sardonically he forgot about the three Ds). His body breaks into a thousand pieces, he is built again from scratch, he shifts, morphs; and then suddenly, he appears someplace else.
He is dimly aware of dark walls covered in rotten orange oxide, voices by his ear, and then the world goes black.
Title: Bury Me in Snow
Raiting: PG-13
Word Count: 1397
Author Notes: Tenth part in a series. Written for
blanketforts, with the promt Soup, which I managed to squeeze in at the last moment. Fireworks series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10
Remus’ breath leaves him without saying goodbye, an invisible puff of air that he feels should be white, should be cold, should be powdered snow made out of oxygen.
Should be anything but the dread on the base of his stomach. Some people say the possibility of revenge tastes heavenly, exquisitely sweet with just a hint of strawberry icing.
They’re wrong. It tastes bitter.
---
Sirius speaks, about two nights before, and the rest listen.
---
Sirius finds Regulus playing chess by himself under the portrait of a Greek man in a toga, eyes so alike to his own fixed on the checkered game, the tip of his wand the only light along with the feeble moonlight. Sirius takes a deep breath, reminding himself why exactly is he doing this in the first place (an eternity of full moons nipping at the wolf’s fur, a thousand smiles from Remus’ lips he wants to keep in his memory forever), before lifting his chin and walking confidently towards him.
In the back of his mind, he can’t help but damn this world in which he needs an excuse to talk to his brother. Things used to be simple, siblings together as their mother shrieked in one of her madness attack, shadows and lights slithering in her vision and heavy fiery footsteps inside her ears.
Regulus turns his head when he hears the noise Sirius is deliberately making, but he doesn’t say anything, he just waits for Sirius to make the first movement, ready to devour his pawns and kill his king at the second move. This is their parent’s child, and Sirius feels a pang of regret for not having taken him out of Grimmauld Place. There would have been some hope for the small child that always stole his toys, then.
“Hello, Reg.” he keeps using the nickname, waiting for the frown in Regulus’ face as he scolds him for treating him as a child.
There’s none, though, and Regulus looks back into the board. He eats the white tower with his horse, and Sirius shivers. “Hello, Sirius.”
There’s no pleasantries exchanged. “So, did you get it then?” Sirius asks, trying not to sound as anxious as he feels, as the letter he had Owled Regulus just as he had got to Hogwarts after the funeral, the curves in his letters speaking of anger and desperation and confusion. No answer had come, but Regulus’ smile at lunches filled with people in between them had spoke on itself.
Information. That’s all he needs, all his brother can ever do for him.
“I was thinking, brother, do you remember that wonderful soup Kreacher used to make? I just miss it so.” Sirius says nothing (but remembers, the stiff dinners with the family, the silverware he had hoped would burn him just so he would have a way out). Regulus looks up at him, smirking with an expression so reminiscent of Bellatrix’s that Sirius wants to punch it out of his face. “I may. Or not. Who am I to judge when I’m not entirely aware of the reasons for my knowledge?”
Sirius grits his teeth, counting to ten in his head, trying to calm his temper. He reaches twenty-two, and he speaks again. “Look, you asshole, I’ve no time for your shit.” Regulus doesn’t look impressed. Instead he looks vaguely amused, an eyebrow raised in that gesture that annoys Peter so much when Sirius does it.
“Well I can hardly tell you if I don’t know the reasons why, now can I?” Regulus stands up, and this time, the fact that Sirius is still a couple of inches taller doesn’t give him any kind of comfort. This is a Slytherin negotiation, filled to the brim with loopholes and double intentions.
And still, Sirius doesn’t hesitate as he says “I’ll owe you a favor.” That gains Regulus’ attention, the words that for Purebloods sign a lifetime contract in blood with the Devil as witness. He smiles, predatory, so Black it feels like a blow in the gut to Sirius. “Do you, or do you not have the name?” Sirius says with his eyes almost closed, not bearing to see the future that has been written for his little brother.
Years later, Sirius would never forget when Regulus came to ask that last favor, grime on his face, tears on his eyes and a poisonous smell of Dark Magic all over him. Sirius closed the door on his face.
Regulus died the next day.
The candles have already gone out, and curfew has started some hours ago, but Regulus sits back with his chessman and his maddening grin. Only one word comes out of his lips.
“Rosier.”
---
The world moves again.
Remus doesn’t speak, doesn’t reason at all before he puts his shoes back on and runs down to the common room. He can hear yells behind him, but he can’t hear the confused voices of his friends as they run after him. He can feel Lily’s side as he crashes with her in the Common Room, but he can’t hear her yell of “What do you think you’re doing? It’s curfew already!” as he climbs through the hole, through the portrait, through the empty hallways.
He can count four pair of footsteps after him, and he is vaguely confused over this until he hears Lily’s ragged breathing behind. She asks for them to stop, and the three ignore her, while Remus’ brain doesn’t even acknowledge it. Remus runs as fast as he can, mindless but with one name running across his skull, down through stairs, moving and changing; through abandoned classrooms with layers of years and dust over their melancholic ache for students, through the marble steps (hopping over one, just at the top) and across the wooden doors, slightly ajar.
The storm is still raging outside, thick snowflakes darkening his vision in a lighted way, opposites in mere words. The snow reaches his knees when Hogwarts ends, and then the ground is white and the sky is dark and the world has turned itself upside down.
Remus wades through the coldness, legs getting damp in seconds and lips trembling out of the temperature, out of sorrow, out of anger. His wand is being clasped tightly in his hand, a part of himself he couldn’t get rid of even if he tried. He runs, jumping slightly in every step as to avoid the snow. A tingle of magic spreads around his back, but he doesn’t have time to think of just what exactly it is before Sirius tackles him from behind, a crude imitation of an earlier, warmer, fight.
“Get off!” Remus bellows over the deafening sound of the storm, snow coating his entire body as they roll with their momentum and the gentle slope. Lily shrieks somewhere behind them, and Remus punches Sirius in the jaw. Sirius returns the blow, and Remus’ left eye stings for a moment until adrenaline kicks back in.
“I won’t!” yells Sirius, as they struggle and try to hit as much skin as they can. “You’ve gone mad!”
“Let me go,” says Remus as his head sinks into soft snow, resurging with ice on his eyelashes, cold on his throat he can’t seem to swallow.
“I won’t let you do this, Remus. I will not let you lose your life over a stupid wish of revenge!”
Remus stills, for a moment, and amidst the veil of his blinding rage he can see Peter helping Lily through the Hogwarts’ gates, red-faced and looking somewhat scared. James follows, his wand lifted and a thin thread of light connecting it to himself.
He turns to Sirius, panting on top of him, and kisses him softly. “Goodbye,” he says, and kicks Sirius aside.
“No!” he can hear Peter say, and then they’re all running towards him, even Lily who doesn’t – shouldn’t – know anything about this.
He Apparates, muttering the name Rosier over and over to himself, wanting, magic searching for the recipient; world turning, swelling and bubbling before his eyes, whiteness trapped in his gaze (with an drowned voice in the back of his voice telling him sardonically he forgot about the three Ds). His body breaks into a thousand pieces, he is built again from scratch, he shifts, morphs; and then suddenly, he appears someplace else.
He is dimly aware of dark walls covered in rotten orange oxide, voices by his ear, and then the world goes black.
no subject
*falls off chair laughing*
(Sorry, I'm weird. *hugs her tons of pretty descriptions* Your words are going to be all over the place, hon.)
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
(Reg and Reg are snogging in the background.)
...*spaces out completely & drools* (See, this is all your fault.)
no subject
(Reg and Reg invite Anna for a steamy threesome. She goes, and stops complaining.)
no subject
Oh... oh... a steamy.... oooooh. *passes out* (That was too much for her dear heart.)