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nekare at 11:32pm on 07/01/2006 under blanketforts, fic, fireworks series, hp, remus/sirius
nekare at 11:32pm on 07/01/2006 under blanketforts, fic, fireworks series, hp, remus/siriusSo sorry for the delay! Oh well, at least I made it to post it in the right day.
I went to the movies with two friends, and we had a blast. I hadn't seen them since Karen's birthday, so it was nice to catch up and remember good old times in High School. If everything goes well, I'll be going to Costi's college, and I'll get to see him everyday (yay!) and Karen will be studying really close from home, so I'll be able to visit her and stuff. I just hope we don't drift apart (in the way with Dulzura and Marisol. I barely speak to them nowadays :(). Good point is, we've already been out of school for more than 6 months, and I still get to see them sorta regularly.
Title: Red Carnival
Raiting: PG
Word Count: 1473
Author Notes: Written for this prompt in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
blanketforts. Seventh part in a series. Feedback will be loved!
Fireworks series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Remus dreams about the time his father took him to a Muggle fair, pinks and greens and other thousand colors moving with the wind in the form of tiny flags, bearded ladies and men with gills, floating in a tank of blue water and white bubbles.
Someone had stolen their ticket to see the elephants, and Remus’ new born powers had levitated every single ticket from unsuspecting people’s back pockets, to his own amazement, and Remus’ Muggle father hadn’t knows whether he should be proud of if he should scold the weeping child.
There’s cotton candy on his tongue, sweet and thick, sticky five-year-old fingers clutching it tightly, as he sits on his dad’s shoulders with wide-eyes and amazement on his face. A man breathes fire, and the flames look beautiful for a moment, bright orange and flickering, dancing with the sky as background.
Then the flames are licking at his skin, and little Remus wails as his father’s face blurs and melts, and everything burns.
Remus awakes with a gasp, cold sweat on his brow. He lays on his stuffy bed, panting, rage eating him inside out.
---
Remus is the only one of the four boys that has already passed his Apparition exam (not that that stops them), and on the morning of January 5th, he says goodbye to his mother and tells her quite cryptically that if something were to happen to him she should look in the third drawer in Remus’ closet, underneath the purple sweater Aunt Margarite once sent and he never wore.
(There’s a letter in there, sealed with tears, that has every single feeling towards the world he hasn’t dared said in his own shaky handwriting. A necessity in this war to come).
The trees behind his house are bare, dressed by the thick fog that clings to their branches, a silent shroud that tricks the limit of reality. The trees are grieving too, waiting for spring and the birth of life, tiny blossoming green spots on dark wood.
Remus’ Gryffindor scarf becomes the only spot of color amidst the lonely-looking trees, and he walks farther and farther, getting lost on purpose with the excuse of being away from Muggles to Apparate. He searches his pockets for breadcrumbs, but he finds none, so he tosses rocks he won’t follow instead.
He kills time. He hopes time would kill him.
A sigh goes out of his lips as the day’s end approaches, tiny cloud of used air, carbonate dioxide that will reincarnate to become oxygen once again. He sighs again, hands on his pockets, and readies himself.
There’s a pull on his stomach, and the world spins and mutates before his eyes. As soon as it begins, there’s ground under his feet, and he’s standing before the Hogwarts’ snow-covered gates.
He leaves half of his grief behind.
---
Dinner has just ended, and Hogwarts is brimming with contented looking students, wandering around before curfew. Remus had stalled that much only so he wouldn’t need to see people, but it appears his calculations failed. He walks through the hallways feeling self-conscious in his Muggle jeans and dark blue shirt, feeling as if he could be spotted amidst a sea of black robes from a mile away.
The Fat Lady smiles at him sweetly from her frame, and Remus has to frown as she had never done that before, not since she had first seen what kind of company he liked to keep. He enters Gryffindor Tower, and every single movement on the room stops. Remus freezes right next to the portrait hole, as dozens of eyes are fixed on him.
“Um, hullo?” he asks anxiously to the crowd, and people start sharing looks the kind he’s always dreaded since he was young and the bite scar rested on his shoulder. Lily comes closer to him, as vibrant-looking as always, hair unbound and freckles on her nose.
“Hello, Remus. I- all of us,” she says with a hand gesture, signaling the entire Common Room. There’s warmth in her eyes, but her tone is grave. “We are all very sorry for your loss, and if there’s anything we could do for you, just-”
“Moony!” Comes James’ shout from afar, and before he knows it, he’s being tackled by lord knows how many pounds of excited teenager. “There you are, mate. Come, come, we’ve got pranks to plan!” He says cheerily, sparing a radiant grin to the very crossed looking Lily.
“Honestly,” she says with her hands on her hips, “Remus is going through some very difficult times, and it wouldn’t kill you trying to be more sensitive, you prick. After all, where were you when this happened?”
With me as he always has, Remus wants to say, but he knows that for the rest of the school, the other Marauders had been locked up in their dormitory at the same time they had been comforting him in their different ways. James drags him away before he can get any word out, and he’s eternally grateful for that. He just wouldn’t be able to handle the sympathy right now, the shy little smiles and uncertainty of what to say.
James’ hyper act is dropped as soon as Lily is out of sight, and then the silence is companionable but devoid of any real cheer. They go to their usual corner by the largest window, where Peter and Sirius are playing chess (there’s a pang in Remus’ stomach, a flutter of treacherous butterflies that should have died months ago, frozen wings with the first frost) . Peter says hello as Remus sits in his favorite armchair, with a sigh, but Sirius doesn’t acknowledge his presence.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” says Remus, after a few moments of getting used to the more breathable air in the Tower. He uses his business tone, and even Sirius moves forward a bit, four heads close together. Remus tells them everything, about his dad’s murder, about the Order of the Phoenix, about the resistance to the madman that has claimed will conquer the world. Their eyes are serious, their questions precise.
This can mean war, and they know it’s up to them to bring it to and end.
---
Remus corners Sirius that night, just after he comes out of the shower, and he tries very hard not to stare at the droplets of water running along Sirius’ body as rain against the windows. Remus mouths incoherently for some moments, and Sirius looks away with his arms crossed against his chest, his pyjama bottoms sliding lower as they always tend to do.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he says finally, and Sirius’ practiced bored look settles on him. Too bad he can see right through it.
“And?”
“And you were right, I wasn’t thinking straight, and I guess I lost focus on, um, things.” Remus fidgets, wanting this to be over, wanting this to last forever. “And I want you to know I, well. I know you’re all there for me. You’ve always been, and you don’t know how grateful I am for that.”
Sirius’ façade falls, and then he’s only another teenager trying desperately to live and not fuck it up. “Don’t you ever doubt it again, you hear me?” scorn and anger take residence in his voice, and Remus knows the doubt is what had hurt him the most.
“No. I won’t. And, well, I also wanted to apologize, I-I practically took advantage of you, and-”
“Stop.” Sirius interrupts, stepping closer, and the proximity alone quiets Remus more efficiently than his imperious tone. Sirius swallows, hard, but keeps looking him in the eye as he speaks. “Look, if anyone here is supposed to apologize, it should be me. I know it, you know it, fuck, the world knows it. So just, don’t.”
“I don’t think of you as a toy. I really don’t. You’ve got to believe me in this.” Remus says hurriedly, ignoring Sirius’ statement.
Sirius sighs deeply, and the used air tickles Remus’ lips. “I know. Why- why don’t we call it even?” There’s hope in his face, and his right hand buries in the hair at his nape.
There’s a moment, staring into each others eyes, and three months of missing Sirius continuously and hating himself for it pass in front of Remus’ eyes.
(Loneliness in a crowded room, tense breathing at night, dreams filled with heated hands).
“All right.” Sirius closes his eyes at Remus’ words, the longest sigh coming out of his lips. There’s a promise of future trust implied somewhere in their words, and it echoes in the stone walls.
They don’t touch. There are too many questions flying inside Remus’ head, too much pain, to much everything.
They don’t touch in any kind of way that night, but they know they both want to.
I went to the movies with two friends, and we had a blast. I hadn't seen them since Karen's birthday, so it was nice to catch up and remember good old times in High School. If everything goes well, I'll be going to Costi's college, and I'll get to see him everyday (yay!) and Karen will be studying really close from home, so I'll be able to visit her and stuff. I just hope we don't drift apart (in the way with Dulzura and Marisol. I barely speak to them nowadays :(). Good point is, we've already been out of school for more than 6 months, and I still get to see them sorta regularly.
Title: Red Carnival
Raiting: PG
Word Count: 1473
Author Notes: Written for this prompt in
blanketforts. Seventh part in a series. Feedback will be loved!Fireworks series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Remus dreams about the time his father took him to a Muggle fair, pinks and greens and other thousand colors moving with the wind in the form of tiny flags, bearded ladies and men with gills, floating in a tank of blue water and white bubbles.
Someone had stolen their ticket to see the elephants, and Remus’ new born powers had levitated every single ticket from unsuspecting people’s back pockets, to his own amazement, and Remus’ Muggle father hadn’t knows whether he should be proud of if he should scold the weeping child.
There’s cotton candy on his tongue, sweet and thick, sticky five-year-old fingers clutching it tightly, as he sits on his dad’s shoulders with wide-eyes and amazement on his face. A man breathes fire, and the flames look beautiful for a moment, bright orange and flickering, dancing with the sky as background.
Then the flames are licking at his skin, and little Remus wails as his father’s face blurs and melts, and everything burns.
Remus awakes with a gasp, cold sweat on his brow. He lays on his stuffy bed, panting, rage eating him inside out.
---
Remus is the only one of the four boys that has already passed his Apparition exam (not that that stops them), and on the morning of January 5th, he says goodbye to his mother and tells her quite cryptically that if something were to happen to him she should look in the third drawer in Remus’ closet, underneath the purple sweater Aunt Margarite once sent and he never wore.
(There’s a letter in there, sealed with tears, that has every single feeling towards the world he hasn’t dared said in his own shaky handwriting. A necessity in this war to come).
The trees behind his house are bare, dressed by the thick fog that clings to their branches, a silent shroud that tricks the limit of reality. The trees are grieving too, waiting for spring and the birth of life, tiny blossoming green spots on dark wood.
Remus’ Gryffindor scarf becomes the only spot of color amidst the lonely-looking trees, and he walks farther and farther, getting lost on purpose with the excuse of being away from Muggles to Apparate. He searches his pockets for breadcrumbs, but he finds none, so he tosses rocks he won’t follow instead.
He kills time. He hopes time would kill him.
A sigh goes out of his lips as the day’s end approaches, tiny cloud of used air, carbonate dioxide that will reincarnate to become oxygen once again. He sighs again, hands on his pockets, and readies himself.
There’s a pull on his stomach, and the world spins and mutates before his eyes. As soon as it begins, there’s ground under his feet, and he’s standing before the Hogwarts’ snow-covered gates.
He leaves half of his grief behind.
---
Dinner has just ended, and Hogwarts is brimming with contented looking students, wandering around before curfew. Remus had stalled that much only so he wouldn’t need to see people, but it appears his calculations failed. He walks through the hallways feeling self-conscious in his Muggle jeans and dark blue shirt, feeling as if he could be spotted amidst a sea of black robes from a mile away.
The Fat Lady smiles at him sweetly from her frame, and Remus has to frown as she had never done that before, not since she had first seen what kind of company he liked to keep. He enters Gryffindor Tower, and every single movement on the room stops. Remus freezes right next to the portrait hole, as dozens of eyes are fixed on him.
“Um, hullo?” he asks anxiously to the crowd, and people start sharing looks the kind he’s always dreaded since he was young and the bite scar rested on his shoulder. Lily comes closer to him, as vibrant-looking as always, hair unbound and freckles on her nose.
“Hello, Remus. I- all of us,” she says with a hand gesture, signaling the entire Common Room. There’s warmth in her eyes, but her tone is grave. “We are all very sorry for your loss, and if there’s anything we could do for you, just-”
“Moony!” Comes James’ shout from afar, and before he knows it, he’s being tackled by lord knows how many pounds of excited teenager. “There you are, mate. Come, come, we’ve got pranks to plan!” He says cheerily, sparing a radiant grin to the very crossed looking Lily.
“Honestly,” she says with her hands on her hips, “Remus is going through some very difficult times, and it wouldn’t kill you trying to be more sensitive, you prick. After all, where were you when this happened?”
With me as he always has, Remus wants to say, but he knows that for the rest of the school, the other Marauders had been locked up in their dormitory at the same time they had been comforting him in their different ways. James drags him away before he can get any word out, and he’s eternally grateful for that. He just wouldn’t be able to handle the sympathy right now, the shy little smiles and uncertainty of what to say.
James’ hyper act is dropped as soon as Lily is out of sight, and then the silence is companionable but devoid of any real cheer. They go to their usual corner by the largest window, where Peter and Sirius are playing chess (there’s a pang in Remus’ stomach, a flutter of treacherous butterflies that should have died months ago, frozen wings with the first frost) . Peter says hello as Remus sits in his favorite armchair, with a sigh, but Sirius doesn’t acknowledge his presence.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” says Remus, after a few moments of getting used to the more breathable air in the Tower. He uses his business tone, and even Sirius moves forward a bit, four heads close together. Remus tells them everything, about his dad’s murder, about the Order of the Phoenix, about the resistance to the madman that has claimed will conquer the world. Their eyes are serious, their questions precise.
This can mean war, and they know it’s up to them to bring it to and end.
---
Remus corners Sirius that night, just after he comes out of the shower, and he tries very hard not to stare at the droplets of water running along Sirius’ body as rain against the windows. Remus mouths incoherently for some moments, and Sirius looks away with his arms crossed against his chest, his pyjama bottoms sliding lower as they always tend to do.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he says finally, and Sirius’ practiced bored look settles on him. Too bad he can see right through it.
“And?”
“And you were right, I wasn’t thinking straight, and I guess I lost focus on, um, things.” Remus fidgets, wanting this to be over, wanting this to last forever. “And I want you to know I, well. I know you’re all there for me. You’ve always been, and you don’t know how grateful I am for that.”
Sirius’ façade falls, and then he’s only another teenager trying desperately to live and not fuck it up. “Don’t you ever doubt it again, you hear me?” scorn and anger take residence in his voice, and Remus knows the doubt is what had hurt him the most.
“No. I won’t. And, well, I also wanted to apologize, I-I practically took advantage of you, and-”
“Stop.” Sirius interrupts, stepping closer, and the proximity alone quiets Remus more efficiently than his imperious tone. Sirius swallows, hard, but keeps looking him in the eye as he speaks. “Look, if anyone here is supposed to apologize, it should be me. I know it, you know it, fuck, the world knows it. So just, don’t.”
“I don’t think of you as a toy. I really don’t. You’ve got to believe me in this.” Remus says hurriedly, ignoring Sirius’ statement.
Sirius sighs deeply, and the used air tickles Remus’ lips. “I know. Why- why don’t we call it even?” There’s hope in his face, and his right hand buries in the hair at his nape.
There’s a moment, staring into each others eyes, and three months of missing Sirius continuously and hating himself for it pass in front of Remus’ eyes.
(Loneliness in a crowded room, tense breathing at night, dreams filled with heated hands).
“All right.” Sirius closes his eyes at Remus’ words, the longest sigh coming out of his lips. There’s a promise of future trust implied somewhere in their words, and it echoes in the stone walls.
They don’t touch. There are too many questions flying inside Remus’ head, too much pain, to much everything.
They don’t touch in any kind of way that night, but they know they both want to.
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