Of Choices And Regrets
Title: Of Choices And Regrets
Summary: "Nothing ended, nothing begun, nothing resolved." - Brokeback Mountain by Annie Proulx. There is a war out there, brewing to get started, only that this time it's the werewolves against the rest of the world.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter
Genre: AU, angst
Rating/Warnings: PG; mention of violence
Word Count: 1314
Author's Notes: There is only one bit of dialogue in this lol. oh i am so tired
Harry had always taught him about choice. Teddy'd grown up on stories about Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, about Grindelwald and Voldemort. About his own father, and Harry himself.
---
He wakes up just before his alarm goes off, and slips out of their warm bed. The clock receives a light tap, and the ringing is cut off. James doesn't stir one bit, his limbs still sprawled across the sheets, his mouth open and snoring. Teddy smiles, and leans over to plant a kiss on James's brow, inhaling his scent.
James smells of rain, and adrenaline, and broom polish.
He shuffles to the kitchen, trying to make as little noise as possible. He's forgone his slippers for silence, even though the wooden floor is achingly cold. Their little corner of domestic heaven, James calls it, with a smirk. They like cooking here, even though they've got no skills between the two of them. James burns things, and Teddy knocks all the pans over.
Still, they make do with simple soups, toast, and the occasional burnt waffles.
The pot of coffee is brewing in the quiet dark, and Teddy watches it with a strange satisfaction. He likes this, likes the feeling of being alone yet not alone, the comforting familiarity of home, of warmth, of certainty. He doesn't think about the coming day, not yet.
---
He never tells James what he does. James works at the Ministry, an Auror, and a mighty fine one at that. Curiosity, courage, confidence. He knows James is annoyed with not knowing, and that's the basis of a lot of their fights.
I'm the one you fired a curse at last week.
I'm the one you're hunting down.
I'm the one you hate.
No one knows, and sometimes it hurts, but sometimes it doesn't, because it's his secret to keep and not to tell. Telling means that James will never forgive him. Telling means that James will leave him and Teddy doesn't think that he could handle that.
He comes close to spilling though. When he sees the hurt in James's eyes after a particularly long and vicious fight, with broken pictures and furniture scattered around their flat. When he comes home after months on the road, scratches on his face, to a James who's always ready with healing potions and bandages. When they're on their bed, on the sheets that are never neat, Teddy's nose nudging against James's neck, biting back moans that don't seem to end.
---
Teddy sips from the Disneyland mug that James brought back a few years ago, when their flat was still new and smelling of fresh paint. The coffee's hot and bitter, just the way he likes it. The kitchen clock ticks its way to five o'clock as he finishes his cup and starts another.
No point wasting good coffee; James hates the stuff and prefers tea with lots of milk and sugar. Besides, Teddy needs the caffeine.
At half past five, he tiptoes back to the bedroom to change into his running gear, chuckling into his faded grey tee at James, whose arms are making bedsheet angels.
The moon's still out when he emerges from the building. He can feel it calling, but shakes off the lurch in his stomach, and starts on his usual route. The good thing about running is that it wakes him up fully, makes him aware of the air, the sounds and smells and feel of the world around him. It also means that there's a huge amount of time for him to be alone with his thoughts. Usually, that's a plus point, but on this morning, the adrenaline and his mind don't mix too well.
He starts thinking about packing, about sneaking around James to prepare for the day ahead. About whether or not to tuck some pictures into his wallet. About taking the existing ones out. He thinks about James, and how he'll be returning home to an empty flat devoid of a note from Teddy. He thinks about the anger and pain that James will display on his face before Apparating to all of the possible places where Teddy might but will not be.
---
He doesn't like his job. James loves his, loves the thrill of the chase, loves the brotherhood he's in. Teddy loathes his, hates the running away, the attacks, the teeth, the false connection he has with his companions.
Teddy hates being out of control. The alpha is a crazy arsehole who wants to build an empire, and the worst thing is, there're too many people willing to listen. Never mind that they are still suffering from the last War, never mind that there is no logic in the plan, never mind that they'll probably get killed.
His handler is another crazy arsehole who loves to talk about destiny, how Teddy's following in the footsteps of his father. Teddy believes shit about destiny, no offence to Harry or his father. Teddy's there because the job pays well and it's good to feel like he's doing something to stop the madness that's threatening to ruin the world. Never mind that it's already wrecking havoc on his.
---
He makes it through the park before he realises that he's being followed. Teddy grits his teeth and jogs off his path and into a secluded area, catching his breath and waiting for his stalker to show.
"Lupin." Clarke nods at him. "Alpha says eight, at the usual spot. Hope you're ready for tonight. It's going to be a bloodbath."
The man disappears after delivering his clipped message. Teddy runs his fingers through his hair and groans out loud to himself. His watch says that it's almost seven, and time to get back to the flat. He has thirteen hours left.
---
It took him a week to endear himself with the pack, and with Alpha. Teddy understands the art of multiplicity, thanks to his Metamorphagus and werewolf abilities. It's easy to pretend that he cares about the revenge of the werewolves and the need to overthrow the humans, wizards and Muggles alike. The persona he creates loves the bloodlust, the taste of copper in his mouth, the snarling takedown of someone inferior.
Teddy takes great care to keep that persona locked away. He's not that man, not that wolf. He's Teddy Lupin, son of Remus Lupin, godson of Harry Potter, and lover of James Sirius Potter. He's not Lupin, not the monster who enjoys killing innocents, not the one who runs with the pack taking orders from an alpha male too blind to see how crazy their mission is.
He's not the one who fights the Aurors when they arrive on the scene.
---
James is still asleep when he gets home. The snoring is gone, replaced by steady, deep breathing. Teddy smiles and takes another mental picture of him before heading for a shower. He plans out the day in his head: the breakfast he's going to get from the deli down the street, the movie he's rented for the afternoon, the slow burning sex on the couch.
The bags he's going to pack. The sleeping potion he's going to mix into James's dinner. The note that he's going to leave behind, with only the word 'sorry' scribbled on it. The last kiss he's going to plant on a sleeping James. The tears he's going to shed and wipe away when he leaves their home.
He gets out of the shower. He has a little less than twelve hours left, and he's not going to waste that time crying.
---
Thing is, Teddy made his choice the day he decided to join the Ministry to infiltrate the werewolves' army. And again and again, after every successful mission, after each time he returns to James.
Thing is, choices come bundled with regrets that get harder to bear each time.
Thing is, regrets don't mean anything when you've already said yes.
Summary: "Nothing ended, nothing begun, nothing resolved." - Brokeback Mountain by Annie Proulx. There is a war out there, brewing to get started, only that this time it's the werewolves against the rest of the world.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter
Genre: AU, angst
Rating/Warnings: PG; mention of violence
Word Count: 1314
Author's Notes: There is only one bit of dialogue in this lol. oh i am so tired
Harry had always taught him about choice. Teddy'd grown up on stories about Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, about Grindelwald and Voldemort. About his own father, and Harry himself.
---
He wakes up just before his alarm goes off, and slips out of their warm bed. The clock receives a light tap, and the ringing is cut off. James doesn't stir one bit, his limbs still sprawled across the sheets, his mouth open and snoring. Teddy smiles, and leans over to plant a kiss on James's brow, inhaling his scent.
James smells of rain, and adrenaline, and broom polish.
He shuffles to the kitchen, trying to make as little noise as possible. He's forgone his slippers for silence, even though the wooden floor is achingly cold. Their little corner of domestic heaven, James calls it, with a smirk. They like cooking here, even though they've got no skills between the two of them. James burns things, and Teddy knocks all the pans over.
Still, they make do with simple soups, toast, and the occasional burnt waffles.
The pot of coffee is brewing in the quiet dark, and Teddy watches it with a strange satisfaction. He likes this, likes the feeling of being alone yet not alone, the comforting familiarity of home, of warmth, of certainty. He doesn't think about the coming day, not yet.
---
He never tells James what he does. James works at the Ministry, an Auror, and a mighty fine one at that. Curiosity, courage, confidence. He knows James is annoyed with not knowing, and that's the basis of a lot of their fights.
I'm the one you fired a curse at last week.
I'm the one you're hunting down.
I'm the one you hate.
No one knows, and sometimes it hurts, but sometimes it doesn't, because it's his secret to keep and not to tell. Telling means that James will never forgive him. Telling means that James will leave him and Teddy doesn't think that he could handle that.
He comes close to spilling though. When he sees the hurt in James's eyes after a particularly long and vicious fight, with broken pictures and furniture scattered around their flat. When he comes home after months on the road, scratches on his face, to a James who's always ready with healing potions and bandages. When they're on their bed, on the sheets that are never neat, Teddy's nose nudging against James's neck, biting back moans that don't seem to end.
---
Teddy sips from the Disneyland mug that James brought back a few years ago, when their flat was still new and smelling of fresh paint. The coffee's hot and bitter, just the way he likes it. The kitchen clock ticks its way to five o'clock as he finishes his cup and starts another.
No point wasting good coffee; James hates the stuff and prefers tea with lots of milk and sugar. Besides, Teddy needs the caffeine.
At half past five, he tiptoes back to the bedroom to change into his running gear, chuckling into his faded grey tee at James, whose arms are making bedsheet angels.
The moon's still out when he emerges from the building. He can feel it calling, but shakes off the lurch in his stomach, and starts on his usual route. The good thing about running is that it wakes him up fully, makes him aware of the air, the sounds and smells and feel of the world around him. It also means that there's a huge amount of time for him to be alone with his thoughts. Usually, that's a plus point, but on this morning, the adrenaline and his mind don't mix too well.
He starts thinking about packing, about sneaking around James to prepare for the day ahead. About whether or not to tuck some pictures into his wallet. About taking the existing ones out. He thinks about James, and how he'll be returning home to an empty flat devoid of a note from Teddy. He thinks about the anger and pain that James will display on his face before Apparating to all of the possible places where Teddy might but will not be.
---
He doesn't like his job. James loves his, loves the thrill of the chase, loves the brotherhood he's in. Teddy loathes his, hates the running away, the attacks, the teeth, the false connection he has with his companions.
Teddy hates being out of control. The alpha is a crazy arsehole who wants to build an empire, and the worst thing is, there're too many people willing to listen. Never mind that they are still suffering from the last War, never mind that there is no logic in the plan, never mind that they'll probably get killed.
His handler is another crazy arsehole who loves to talk about destiny, how Teddy's following in the footsteps of his father. Teddy believes shit about destiny, no offence to Harry or his father. Teddy's there because the job pays well and it's good to feel like he's doing something to stop the madness that's threatening to ruin the world. Never mind that it's already wrecking havoc on his.
---
He makes it through the park before he realises that he's being followed. Teddy grits his teeth and jogs off his path and into a secluded area, catching his breath and waiting for his stalker to show.
"Lupin." Clarke nods at him. "Alpha says eight, at the usual spot. Hope you're ready for tonight. It's going to be a bloodbath."
The man disappears after delivering his clipped message. Teddy runs his fingers through his hair and groans out loud to himself. His watch says that it's almost seven, and time to get back to the flat. He has thirteen hours left.
---
It took him a week to endear himself with the pack, and with Alpha. Teddy understands the art of multiplicity, thanks to his Metamorphagus and werewolf abilities. It's easy to pretend that he cares about the revenge of the werewolves and the need to overthrow the humans, wizards and Muggles alike. The persona he creates loves the bloodlust, the taste of copper in his mouth, the snarling takedown of someone inferior.
Teddy takes great care to keep that persona locked away. He's not that man, not that wolf. He's Teddy Lupin, son of Remus Lupin, godson of Harry Potter, and lover of James Sirius Potter. He's not Lupin, not the monster who enjoys killing innocents, not the one who runs with the pack taking orders from an alpha male too blind to see how crazy their mission is.
He's not the one who fights the Aurors when they arrive on the scene.
---
James is still asleep when he gets home. The snoring is gone, replaced by steady, deep breathing. Teddy smiles and takes another mental picture of him before heading for a shower. He plans out the day in his head: the breakfast he's going to get from the deli down the street, the movie he's rented for the afternoon, the slow burning sex on the couch.
The bags he's going to pack. The sleeping potion he's going to mix into James's dinner. The note that he's going to leave behind, with only the word 'sorry' scribbled on it. The last kiss he's going to plant on a sleeping James. The tears he's going to shed and wipe away when he leaves their home.
He gets out of the shower. He has a little less than twelve hours left, and he's not going to waste that time crying.
---
Thing is, Teddy made his choice the day he decided to join the Ministry to infiltrate the werewolves' army. And again and again, after every successful mission, after each time he returns to James.
Thing is, choices come bundled with regrets that get harder to bear each time.
Thing is, regrets don't mean anything when you've already said yes.