Writer's block and puppies on a train
Oh geez, I had terrible writer's block for the last little while. As a result, I'm not exactly thrilled with this, but what the hey. ;)
Title: Photographic Memory
Fandom: Harry Potter
Ship: Remus/Sirius
Genre: Mild angst of a nostalgic sort
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Remus and Sirius are not mine. It’s a truth I often choose to forget.
A/N: Written for the scarvesnhats Prompt 11.
Summary: Remus tries to maintain a grip on his life as it threatens to pass him by.
Photographic Memory
Blink, and you’ll miss it.
Leaves with unnoticed hints of red as they touch the ground, flowers wilting before full bloom and frost icing the last traces of summer. There are certain things in life that seem to leave before they are properly welcomed, things that succumb to a lazy death in their geriatric youth.
**
Remus was greeted with a set of contrasting memories as he boarded the train, contemporaneous mirages overlapping in their confusion as they trickled into recollection. The first: An eleven year old boy, staring in wonder at the shining red gleam of the engine, grasping his mother’s hand tightly in the shadow of a new beginning. The second: A seventeen-year old stepping off the train for the last time, a sad smile in his eyes and his hand held in the care of someone completely different.
Somehow, he seemed to have misplaced the years in between.
Time had passed swiftly, gliding quiet and unnoticed like a masked marauder in the night. The days at Hogwarts had been far too short, their adventures too brief, the touches between them reckless and rushed. From the Sorting to graduation, Remus had lived the best years of his life. And then - Click. Whirr. Snap - they were over, preserved only through the blinding flash of a camera.
He looked at these photographs with a wistful air, their inaccuracy often catching him off guard. Flipping through photo albums, Remus couldn’t help but notice that the subjects of the pictures were always smiling and laughing within their frames, glossing over the negative moments without a second thought. He found it strangely lacking as his eyes skimmed over the pages, reliving months at Hogwarts in mere seconds. It was true, there had been happiness at the castle, yes, but there had also been pain. Banished from the glossy sheets was the suffering and anger, the tears and betrayal: subjects far too ugly for a photo album.
Somehow, it disappointed Remus. He wanted to look back on the past and see the truth. He wanted to look back and remember.
Sirius had noticed this when they were sitting together at James and Lily’s wedding reception, sifting through the nostalgia. He had noticed the amber-coated sigh in Remus’ eyes, the edges of his smile fraying under a loose seam. He had noticed all these things - so when he asked Remus to move in with him a week later, he had bought him a camera.
Remus had quirked his eyebrow at the unusual house warming gift as he kissed Sirius in thanks. “Why a camera, Pads?” he asked.
Sirius had leaned in closer, his breath warm on Remus’ skin as knuckles brushed lightly over his cheek. “Tell our story, Moony.”
In an instant, Remus understood. He knew he couldn’t let their story go untold, lost to the oblivion of lives lived in the tear-stained blink of an eternal eye. However, he also understood that it wasn’t going to be easy.
Shifting in his seat in the train compartment, Remus sighed. It was an assiduous process, the capture of life - even if it was only on film. Moments flittered in and out of focus like hummingbirds tasting nectar; before you could pick up the camera, they were gone. It was difficult to hold on to the moments he treasured the most, because he found that he was often too caught up in living them to remember to save them for later.
The train gave a small lurch as it began to pick up speed, rolling through the countryside with charcoal breaths of steam, away from the safety that had lulled his lens into a lackadaisical state. The two figures in the compartment, balancing on the brink between boys and men, were headed into the unknown for the first time.
Remus knew it was going to be dangerous. All missions for the Order tended to be so. For all he knew, it could claim their lives, but he refused to think of it so much as an ending as a beginning.
He turned his gaze to the window, leaving a mark as his hand pressed again the cold glass. Outside, the grass was yellow and stale, powerless to the wind as it whipped through the air. It was ineffable how the world seemed to be divided into those who had power, and those without it. Time conquered them both eventually - turning flame to ashes and flesh to bones - but Remus knew that trying to maintain a grip on the absolute couldn’t hurt.
Lying across the compartment, Sirius slept soundly, unaware of the werewolf’s concerns. Remus’ gaze lingered with affection as it reached his friend, smiling as he recognized his name amidst the nonsensical mumble falling from tired lips. His dark hair fell over his eyes like the silk curtains that hung from the window in their bedroom, veiling the light that Remus woke up to every morning.
Suddenly, dawn broke in the distance, spilling frail shades of early morning through the window. Remus reached for his camera.
His eyes on Sirius and his worry dissolving with unexpected ease, he squinted through the frame at his subject.
Click. Whirr. Snap.
Because some things were worth holding on to - no matter the consequences.
Title: Photographic Memory
Fandom: Harry Potter
Ship: Remus/Sirius
Genre: Mild angst of a nostalgic sort
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Remus and Sirius are not mine. It’s a truth I often choose to forget.
A/N: Written for the scarvesnhats Prompt 11.
Summary: Remus tries to maintain a grip on his life as it threatens to pass him by.
Photographic Memory
Blink, and you’ll miss it.
Leaves with unnoticed hints of red as they touch the ground, flowers wilting before full bloom and frost icing the last traces of summer. There are certain things in life that seem to leave before they are properly welcomed, things that succumb to a lazy death in their geriatric youth.
**
Remus was greeted with a set of contrasting memories as he boarded the train, contemporaneous mirages overlapping in their confusion as they trickled into recollection. The first: An eleven year old boy, staring in wonder at the shining red gleam of the engine, grasping his mother’s hand tightly in the shadow of a new beginning. The second: A seventeen-year old stepping off the train for the last time, a sad smile in his eyes and his hand held in the care of someone completely different.
Somehow, he seemed to have misplaced the years in between.
Time had passed swiftly, gliding quiet and unnoticed like a masked marauder in the night. The days at Hogwarts had been far too short, their adventures too brief, the touches between them reckless and rushed. From the Sorting to graduation, Remus had lived the best years of his life. And then - Click. Whirr. Snap - they were over, preserved only through the blinding flash of a camera.
He looked at these photographs with a wistful air, their inaccuracy often catching him off guard. Flipping through photo albums, Remus couldn’t help but notice that the subjects of the pictures were always smiling and laughing within their frames, glossing over the negative moments without a second thought. He found it strangely lacking as his eyes skimmed over the pages, reliving months at Hogwarts in mere seconds. It was true, there had been happiness at the castle, yes, but there had also been pain. Banished from the glossy sheets was the suffering and anger, the tears and betrayal: subjects far too ugly for a photo album.
Somehow, it disappointed Remus. He wanted to look back on the past and see the truth. He wanted to look back and remember.
Sirius had noticed this when they were sitting together at James and Lily’s wedding reception, sifting through the nostalgia. He had noticed the amber-coated sigh in Remus’ eyes, the edges of his smile fraying under a loose seam. He had noticed all these things - so when he asked Remus to move in with him a week later, he had bought him a camera.
Remus had quirked his eyebrow at the unusual house warming gift as he kissed Sirius in thanks. “Why a camera, Pads?” he asked.
Sirius had leaned in closer, his breath warm on Remus’ skin as knuckles brushed lightly over his cheek. “Tell our story, Moony.”
In an instant, Remus understood. He knew he couldn’t let their story go untold, lost to the oblivion of lives lived in the tear-stained blink of an eternal eye. However, he also understood that it wasn’t going to be easy.
Shifting in his seat in the train compartment, Remus sighed. It was an assiduous process, the capture of life - even if it was only on film. Moments flittered in and out of focus like hummingbirds tasting nectar; before you could pick up the camera, they were gone. It was difficult to hold on to the moments he treasured the most, because he found that he was often too caught up in living them to remember to save them for later.
The train gave a small lurch as it began to pick up speed, rolling through the countryside with charcoal breaths of steam, away from the safety that had lulled his lens into a lackadaisical state. The two figures in the compartment, balancing on the brink between boys and men, were headed into the unknown for the first time.
Remus knew it was going to be dangerous. All missions for the Order tended to be so. For all he knew, it could claim their lives, but he refused to think of it so much as an ending as a beginning.
He turned his gaze to the window, leaving a mark as his hand pressed again the cold glass. Outside, the grass was yellow and stale, powerless to the wind as it whipped through the air. It was ineffable how the world seemed to be divided into those who had power, and those without it. Time conquered them both eventually - turning flame to ashes and flesh to bones - but Remus knew that trying to maintain a grip on the absolute couldn’t hurt.
Lying across the compartment, Sirius slept soundly, unaware of the werewolf’s concerns. Remus’ gaze lingered with affection as it reached his friend, smiling as he recognized his name amidst the nonsensical mumble falling from tired lips. His dark hair fell over his eyes like the silk curtains that hung from the window in their bedroom, veiling the light that Remus woke up to every morning.
Suddenly, dawn broke in the distance, spilling frail shades of early morning through the window. Remus reached for his camera.
His eyes on Sirius and his worry dissolving with unexpected ease, he squinted through the frame at his subject.
Click. Whirr. Snap.
Because some things were worth holding on to - no matter the consequences.