31 Days of Fanfic: Six
So, so sorry for the late update. Still, this one's extra-long, and has some hint of an actual plot. Plus? I get to leave Alabama the day after tomorrow and go home, home, home.
Here's day six: a swimming expedition, an encounter with a centaur, and hints of dark doings afoot. (This one's a little more slashy (slashier?) than they have been so far, because Remus isn't nearly as oblivious as Sirius.)
May 6, 1976
Classes have let out for the day, and the Marauders are sprawled on the ground beneath the Quidditch stands, though it's not doing them much good. It is ridiculously, horribly, abominably hot out; twenty-seven degrees even in their patch of shade. Remus, who has never done well in the heat, can't help feeling a bit betrayed by the unseasonable weather. It's only the sixth of May, but it feels like August: bright and dry, with heat that makes the air almost solid in his throat and nostrils. All four of them have shed robes and ties, shoes and socks: there is a trail of discarded clothing scattered across the grass around them.
The heat has conquered even Sirius' energy. He has gone so far as to remove his shirt and is lying just outside the border of the shade with the sun brilliant against his winter-pale skin, sweat streaking his chest and face, his eyes closed against the weight of the light and his lashes dark against his cheekbones. Remus realises that he is staring and looks away quickly, only to meet Peter's eyes, surprisingly sympathetic in his round face.
"It's bloody hot out," Remus says, dispelling the suddenly uncomfortable silence.
"There's always the lake," Peter suggests. Remus gives him a grateful look.
"Not worth it," James says mournfully. "Not after last year." Last year's swimming expedition had taken place in late May, and had ended with Professor McGonagall threatening all sorts of dire consequences should she catch any of them so much as dipping their feet in the water ever again.
James heaves a mighty sigh and attempts the Herculean task of rolling over onto his back. He gives up halfway through and flops back onto his stomach, the pressure of the ground on his glasses knocking them askew until he reaches up and takes them off.
"Pathetic," Sirius says, without opening his eyes. "The pair of you. Think like Marauders."
"I can't think," Peter groans. "It's too hot to think."
"And why isn't Moony pathetic?" James asks.
"Because Moony, my dear Prongs, is unfortunately unable to remember the pond in the Forbidden Forest."
"It's perfect," James says, sitting up. "It's in the shade, it's out of sight of the castle..."
"It's in the Forbidden Forest," Remus objects. "I can't grow four legs and run away if we get attacked by something."
"Moony!" Sirius says indignantly, opening his eyes. With the sunlight slanting into them, they are less the colour of stormclouds than they are the colour of water pooled over old stone, clear and deep and surprisingly calm. "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."
Privately, Remus doubts that a half-grown puppy will be much good against the Forest's nastier inhabitants, or that four fifteen year old wizards will be any more effective. Unfortunately, his Christmas epiphany has made saying no to Sirius more difficult than ever.
"All right," he says. "But if I get eaten, Padfoot, I shall be extremely cross."
***
The Forbidden Forest is significantly darker, if not much cooler. Sirius, under the pretext of scouting ahead, keeps shifting into Padfoot and tearing off into the underbrush before returning, panting, with seeds and leaves and twigs caught in his long black fur. When he changes back to himself, the seeds and leaves stay stuck in his hair and cling to his rolled-up trousers.
"All clear," he says, with the brilliant, uncomplicated grin that has been stealing Remus' breath since some time in October. "Come on, then; last one in has to plant a dungbomb in Snivellus' underwear drawer."
"If he wears underwear," Peter says. The resultant spasm of horror causes James to trip and go sprawling headlong into the dirt and leaves of the forest floor. While he picks himself up, and Sirius and Remus exchange a look of amused disgust, Peter takes off running.
"Cheater!" Sirius yelps, and goes tearing after him, form blurring into Padfoot's in mid-stride. Remus reaches a hand down, ostensibly to help James up, but pushes him back down instead. There is no way that Remus is going anywhere near Snape's underwear drawer.
When he reaches the pond, Padfoot has already flung himself headlong into it and is barking joyously, chasing Peter through the shallows.
"Hold on, you mad mutt," Peter says, laughing breathlessly, just as Padfoot launches himself out of the water and tackles Peter backwards into it. Remus, hearing James' crashing footfalls behind him, runs the last few steps and dives into the water next to Padfoot, who greets him with a sloppy, doggy kiss on the cheek before turning back into Sirius, wet and laughing, dark hair sending rivulets of water running down his face and neck and bare chest. Remus sucks in a breath and takes a moment to be very glad that he didn't wait to take off his clothes before getting into the pond.
"Prongs!" Sirius crows. "I've got your dungbomb back at the dorm, mate."
"You're all a bunch of cheaters." James waves his wand in the general direction of the water. "Splashimus Maximus," he says, a triumphant gleam shining from behind his glasses. The water lifts itself ten feet in the air, leaving the pond dry for a long second before crashing back down on them in a floodlike deluge that sloshes over the sides of the pond like a tidal wave and catches James square in the face. Sirius laughs so hard that he tries to sit down in five feet of water and nearly drowns himself before Remus tugs him back to his feet.
"Breathe, Padfoot," Remus suggests, and tries desperately not to think about the way Sirius feels under his hands, about soft wet skin over lean, Quidditch-toned muscles, or the fact that Sirius manages to somehow be both cold and warm at the same time. Remus is almost ridiculously happy to still be wearing his trousers.
***
They stay in the pond for nearly two hours before the shadows start lengthening and James decides that it's time to pack it in. On their way back through the Forest, Sirius stops dead and lifts one hand for silence, face pale in the dimming light.
"Pads?" Remus asks. All four of them have their wands out already, and are standing in a circle with their backs to each other when Remus hears it: the crack of a twig under a large foot, the sound of something heavy moving through the underbrush.
A glance at Peter finds him wide-eyed and pale, but his jaw is set in a way that Remus knows from experience means that he's determined to stand and fight. Sirius looks tense, his mouth a grim line, and he's holding his wand in the casually elegant grip that he uses when casting one of the spells he learned from his father. Given some of the creatures that Remus knows are loose in the Forest, that may prove to be a good thing. The noise of something moving comes again, and this time Remus can tell that whatever is out there is very close.
Peter makes a whimpering noise in the back of his throat. James says 'steady, man'. Sirius' hand closes on Remus' with bruising force, and Remus, torn between fear of imminent death and sheer elation, squeezes back; holds on tight.
"What are you children doing out here?" The voice is a man's: calm, adult, and utterly reassuring. All four of them let out a long breath. Sirius' death grip on Remus' hand loosens somewhat, but he doesn't let go. Remus' stomach is doing cartwheels beneath his diaphragm, making it difficult for him to breathe. Sirius' fingers are surprisingly slender, and when his thumb curls warm around the back of Remus' hand, over his knuckles, Remus has to close his eyes against the near-painful intimacy of what he knows is an unconscious gesture.
"We were having a swim," James says. His voice barely wavers. If Remus hadn't spent the past five years watching him talk to Lily Evans, he would never have known that James was afraid. "We're not allowed to swim in the lake."
The whatever-it-is moves again; the branches in front of Remus quiver, and a centaur steps onto the probably-not-actually-a-deer path they've been following. Peter gasps, and James turns around to look over Remus' shoulder.
"This Forest is not a safe place even for adults to wander," the centaur says. "Especially this spring." He looks closely at Remus and frowns, then turns his curiously penetrating gaze on the other three in turn.
"It was hot," Sirius says, "and we were careful."
"Perhaps," the centaur says. "Still, a place that is safe for beasts and animals is not always safe for humans, not this year, and particularly not when night is falling."
"We're on our way back to the castle, sir," James says politely.
"Then I will say nothing to Hagrid," the centaur tells him dryly. "I can understand your desire for a swim. It is unseasonably hot this spring, even... unnaturally so. Still, I would not recommend coming here in human form again until the heat breaks." He takes a step backwards into the bushes, and is gone before any of them can ask him what he meant.
***
(day one)(two)(three)(four)(five)
(seven)
***
Author's Notes: This one is dedicated to everyone who has been kind enough to comment. Thanks, guys. Your feedback makes my day.
The centaur, of course, is Firenze.
I am working on catching up. Hopefully, the two I'm behind by will be up by tomorrow. Bear with me, please. Like Remus, I don't do well in the heat.
Here's day six: a swimming expedition, an encounter with a centaur, and hints of dark doings afoot. (This one's a little more slashy (slashier?) than they have been so far, because Remus isn't nearly as oblivious as Sirius.)
May 6, 1976
Classes have let out for the day, and the Marauders are sprawled on the ground beneath the Quidditch stands, though it's not doing them much good. It is ridiculously, horribly, abominably hot out; twenty-seven degrees even in their patch of shade. Remus, who has never done well in the heat, can't help feeling a bit betrayed by the unseasonable weather. It's only the sixth of May, but it feels like August: bright and dry, with heat that makes the air almost solid in his throat and nostrils. All four of them have shed robes and ties, shoes and socks: there is a trail of discarded clothing scattered across the grass around them.
The heat has conquered even Sirius' energy. He has gone so far as to remove his shirt and is lying just outside the border of the shade with the sun brilliant against his winter-pale skin, sweat streaking his chest and face, his eyes closed against the weight of the light and his lashes dark against his cheekbones. Remus realises that he is staring and looks away quickly, only to meet Peter's eyes, surprisingly sympathetic in his round face.
"It's bloody hot out," Remus says, dispelling the suddenly uncomfortable silence.
"There's always the lake," Peter suggests. Remus gives him a grateful look.
"Not worth it," James says mournfully. "Not after last year." Last year's swimming expedition had taken place in late May, and had ended with Professor McGonagall threatening all sorts of dire consequences should she catch any of them so much as dipping their feet in the water ever again.
James heaves a mighty sigh and attempts the Herculean task of rolling over onto his back. He gives up halfway through and flops back onto his stomach, the pressure of the ground on his glasses knocking them askew until he reaches up and takes them off.
"Pathetic," Sirius says, without opening his eyes. "The pair of you. Think like Marauders."
"I can't think," Peter groans. "It's too hot to think."
"And why isn't Moony pathetic?" James asks.
"Because Moony, my dear Prongs, is unfortunately unable to remember the pond in the Forbidden Forest."
"It's perfect," James says, sitting up. "It's in the shade, it's out of sight of the castle..."
"It's in the Forbidden Forest," Remus objects. "I can't grow four legs and run away if we get attacked by something."
"Moony!" Sirius says indignantly, opening his eyes. With the sunlight slanting into them, they are less the colour of stormclouds than they are the colour of water pooled over old stone, clear and deep and surprisingly calm. "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."
Privately, Remus doubts that a half-grown puppy will be much good against the Forest's nastier inhabitants, or that four fifteen year old wizards will be any more effective. Unfortunately, his Christmas epiphany has made saying no to Sirius more difficult than ever.
"All right," he says. "But if I get eaten, Padfoot, I shall be extremely cross."
***
The Forbidden Forest is significantly darker, if not much cooler. Sirius, under the pretext of scouting ahead, keeps shifting into Padfoot and tearing off into the underbrush before returning, panting, with seeds and leaves and twigs caught in his long black fur. When he changes back to himself, the seeds and leaves stay stuck in his hair and cling to his rolled-up trousers.
"All clear," he says, with the brilliant, uncomplicated grin that has been stealing Remus' breath since some time in October. "Come on, then; last one in has to plant a dungbomb in Snivellus' underwear drawer."
"If he wears underwear," Peter says. The resultant spasm of horror causes James to trip and go sprawling headlong into the dirt and leaves of the forest floor. While he picks himself up, and Sirius and Remus exchange a look of amused disgust, Peter takes off running.
"Cheater!" Sirius yelps, and goes tearing after him, form blurring into Padfoot's in mid-stride. Remus reaches a hand down, ostensibly to help James up, but pushes him back down instead. There is no way that Remus is going anywhere near Snape's underwear drawer.
When he reaches the pond, Padfoot has already flung himself headlong into it and is barking joyously, chasing Peter through the shallows.
"Hold on, you mad mutt," Peter says, laughing breathlessly, just as Padfoot launches himself out of the water and tackles Peter backwards into it. Remus, hearing James' crashing footfalls behind him, runs the last few steps and dives into the water next to Padfoot, who greets him with a sloppy, doggy kiss on the cheek before turning back into Sirius, wet and laughing, dark hair sending rivulets of water running down his face and neck and bare chest. Remus sucks in a breath and takes a moment to be very glad that he didn't wait to take off his clothes before getting into the pond.
"Prongs!" Sirius crows. "I've got your dungbomb back at the dorm, mate."
"You're all a bunch of cheaters." James waves his wand in the general direction of the water. "Splashimus Maximus," he says, a triumphant gleam shining from behind his glasses. The water lifts itself ten feet in the air, leaving the pond dry for a long second before crashing back down on them in a floodlike deluge that sloshes over the sides of the pond like a tidal wave and catches James square in the face. Sirius laughs so hard that he tries to sit down in five feet of water and nearly drowns himself before Remus tugs him back to his feet.
"Breathe, Padfoot," Remus suggests, and tries desperately not to think about the way Sirius feels under his hands, about soft wet skin over lean, Quidditch-toned muscles, or the fact that Sirius manages to somehow be both cold and warm at the same time. Remus is almost ridiculously happy to still be wearing his trousers.
***
They stay in the pond for nearly two hours before the shadows start lengthening and James decides that it's time to pack it in. On their way back through the Forest, Sirius stops dead and lifts one hand for silence, face pale in the dimming light.
"Pads?" Remus asks. All four of them have their wands out already, and are standing in a circle with their backs to each other when Remus hears it: the crack of a twig under a large foot, the sound of something heavy moving through the underbrush.
A glance at Peter finds him wide-eyed and pale, but his jaw is set in a way that Remus knows from experience means that he's determined to stand and fight. Sirius looks tense, his mouth a grim line, and he's holding his wand in the casually elegant grip that he uses when casting one of the spells he learned from his father. Given some of the creatures that Remus knows are loose in the Forest, that may prove to be a good thing. The noise of something moving comes again, and this time Remus can tell that whatever is out there is very close.
Peter makes a whimpering noise in the back of his throat. James says 'steady, man'. Sirius' hand closes on Remus' with bruising force, and Remus, torn between fear of imminent death and sheer elation, squeezes back; holds on tight.
"What are you children doing out here?" The voice is a man's: calm, adult, and utterly reassuring. All four of them let out a long breath. Sirius' death grip on Remus' hand loosens somewhat, but he doesn't let go. Remus' stomach is doing cartwheels beneath his diaphragm, making it difficult for him to breathe. Sirius' fingers are surprisingly slender, and when his thumb curls warm around the back of Remus' hand, over his knuckles, Remus has to close his eyes against the near-painful intimacy of what he knows is an unconscious gesture.
"We were having a swim," James says. His voice barely wavers. If Remus hadn't spent the past five years watching him talk to Lily Evans, he would never have known that James was afraid. "We're not allowed to swim in the lake."
The whatever-it-is moves again; the branches in front of Remus quiver, and a centaur steps onto the probably-not-actually-a-deer path they've been following. Peter gasps, and James turns around to look over Remus' shoulder.
"This Forest is not a safe place even for adults to wander," the centaur says. "Especially this spring." He looks closely at Remus and frowns, then turns his curiously penetrating gaze on the other three in turn.
"It was hot," Sirius says, "and we were careful."
"Perhaps," the centaur says. "Still, a place that is safe for beasts and animals is not always safe for humans, not this year, and particularly not when night is falling."
"We're on our way back to the castle, sir," James says politely.
"Then I will say nothing to Hagrid," the centaur tells him dryly. "I can understand your desire for a swim. It is unseasonably hot this spring, even... unnaturally so. Still, I would not recommend coming here in human form again until the heat breaks." He takes a step backwards into the bushes, and is gone before any of them can ask him what he meant.
***
(day one)(two)(three)(four)(five)
(seven)
***
Author's Notes: This one is dedicated to everyone who has been kind enough to comment. Thanks, guys. Your feedback makes my day.
The centaur, of course, is Firenze.
I am working on catching up. Hopefully, the two I'm behind by will be up by tomorrow. Bear with me, please. Like Remus, I don't do well in the heat.