Mythology meets the Marauders, 2: The Dog Star
Title: The Dog Star (Sirius)
Author: Arachne002
Words: 250
Genre: fantasy, angst
Summary: Mythology meets the Marauders?
Rating: PG?
Did I shine in your memory for a few years and fade?
Or did you toss that tawny hair from your forehead and smile when you’d won?
Did you laugh when James and Lily died and the baby? Did you walk away from them and me?
I can’t believe that in this narrow place.
I was a dog, like you, and I loved you, Remus.
It’s always dark here; no moon to go running with you anymore, no after the moon to curl into your back and breathe you in and breathe in you.
We were free then when the night held us and you were careful and you were writing out your notes as though every moment meant something; as if your life was ink on parchment and we loved you: me and Peter and James.
I was running, Remus, while you wrote and life was running with me.
How I loved you, Remus; like a dog waiting to be punished: go left or go right. How I love you now when I’m standing in the shadows and there’s a scrap of newsprint in my hand.
Sometimes I lean against the bars and dream of the forest and the hunting before they come every day after sad drawn day and I remember you and James and Lily and Peter.
I’m lying on the floor and I’m panting like a dog before the cold fire and I’m laughing like I did when we were young because I’d cry otherwise, Moony.
Author: Arachne002
Words: 250
Genre: fantasy, angst
Summary: Mythology meets the Marauders?
Rating: PG?
Did I shine in your memory for a few years and fade?
Or did you toss that tawny hair from your forehead and smile when you’d won?
Did you laugh when James and Lily died and the baby? Did you walk away from them and me?
I can’t believe that in this narrow place.
I was a dog, like you, and I loved you, Remus.
It’s always dark here; no moon to go running with you anymore, no after the moon to curl into your back and breathe you in and breathe in you.
We were free then when the night held us and you were careful and you were writing out your notes as though every moment meant something; as if your life was ink on parchment and we loved you: me and Peter and James.
I was running, Remus, while you wrote and life was running with me.
How I loved you, Remus; like a dog waiting to be punished: go left or go right. How I love you now when I’m standing in the shadows and there’s a scrap of newsprint in my hand.
Sometimes I lean against the bars and dream of the forest and the hunting before they come every day after sad drawn day and I remember you and James and Lily and Peter.
I’m lying on the floor and I’m panting like a dog before the cold fire and I’m laughing like I did when we were young because I’d cry otherwise, Moony.