fic: waiting
title: Waiting
characters/pairings: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Remus/Sirius
genre: humor/angst
ratings/warnings: there's swearing but not much else. take that as you will. pg-13.
word count: 1, 214
summary: If Remus had been told five years ago that his post-Hogwarts life would consist of waiting around for orders from a clandestine rebel group in a blood war, he would've raised an eyebrow, chuckled calmly and kindly suggested that that person pay a visit to Madame Pomfrey.
Waiting is the worst part, Remus has decided. It's not the battles, the skirmishes, the moments where he's out of breath, gripping onto his wand too tight, his knuckles white and he's not sure if he'll make it through the next minute, let alone the next hour. It's not the missions where he very nearly lost all that he holds dear in the span of second, like that time, that one painful time when James and Sirius had nearly gotten themselves killed like the fuck-all why won't they ever listen to him idiots that they are.
No, it's the waiting. It's the stagnancy, the apprehensive calm before the storm, the wasting away. It's the before and the after, and only during does he ever truly feel alive.
If Remus had been told five years ago that his post-Hogwarts life would consist of waiting around for orders from a clandestine rebel group in a blood war, he would've raised an eyebrow, chuckled calmly and kindly suggested that that person pay a visit to Madame Pomfrey. It sounds unreal, outlandish, like a story that Sirius would've made up where they go dashing about like great heroes. They're not heroes, though, just soldiers waiting to be called for their own secret draft. They’re just young boys trying to be adults, and not quite making it.
It's maddening, Remus thinks. Dimly he realizes that it's maddening for all of them, for James, Sirius, Lily and maybe even Peter who never really wanted to get involved in the first place. But here in his cramped flat with the broken pipes and the long-since expired eggs, Remus can't help but self-indulgently think that it's the most maddening for him.
He might not make rent, but it all seems to trivial when he could die tomorrow.
The banging of someone knocking on his door shakes Remus out of his thoughts. Two sharp knocks followed by a bang of the elbow. He can hear the sound of someone impatiently shifting from foot to foot, as if the very act of standing still would be just too much. Only Sirius Black could ever display such impatience at something so simple as allowing a person time to reach the door.
"We need to do something," Sirius blurts as Remus opens the door.
"What happened over Christmas hols of 6th Year?" Remus asks calmly, not opening the door completely. Even if every fiber of his being was telling him that this was Sirius, telling him that there's no one in this world whose mannerisms he could possibly know better, one can never be sure. Not now, not in these times.
"I drank too much Firewhisky, put on one of Alice's dresses and sang 'Dancing Queen,'" Sirius grits out impatiently.
Remus nods curtly and swings the door open wide enough to let Sirius in before shutting it quickly.
"We have to do something?" Remus asks.
Sirius fumbles in his coat for a cigarette, and upon finding none, resumes his shifting from side to side. Remus vaguely entertains the idea of telling Sirius to stop, because it really is an annoying habit, but there'd be no use. Sirius is an irrepressible force and a bored Sirius even more so.
"I can't just, just sit around anymore. I'm just so bloody tired of the waiting."
"We can't exactly go frolicking about London, Pads."
"And why not? No, really Remus, why the fuck not?"
Remus clenches his jaw and reins in any sarcasm. There's a time and a place, but this isn't the moment for not entirely good-natured ribbing and letting their tempers get the best of them.
"It's not safe," Remus reminds him.
"We're no safer in our own flats, no matter how strong our wards are," Sirius argues.
It's true, though, and Remus can't muster up his usual logical argument, his usual need for precaution. He's always been the voice of reason, but too much time cooped up, too much time in this war has made him more reckless than he'd like. Not reckless like James and certainly not like Sirius, but Remus can't help but think that he's acting in a way that is decidedly Not Remus. Remus would stay inside, Remus would read a book and follow orders.
Remus can't stand to stare at his wallpaper any longer.
He yields. "Where will we go?"
Sirius fidgets and Remus gets the impression that he didn't think any further than Going Somewhere Now Right Now.
"The zoo," Sirius states defiantly, chin set.
Remus blinks and it has to be the most absurd idea that he's heard in a long time, and he's heard a lot of absurd ideas. It always was one of the perils of being a Marauder.
They could and should take the tube there, but something about the long walk and the fresh air is entirely too appealing, and they decide to damn the consequences.
There could be Death Eaters lurking behind the nearest street vendor or in the nearest alley (constant vigilance, he recites to himself), but walking alongside his dearest friend, Remus feels safer then he's felt in weeks.
Remus considers snagging a zoo map, but Sirius insists that they won't need one, and he supposes that they really didn't. It seems that they found their way to the lions by sheer instinct.
"You can take the boys out of Gryffindor..." Sirius cracks.
"If only I were wearing my red and gold scarf," Remus laments.
"Nah, s'too garish for you. It was always much more handsome on me," Sirius says.
Remus snorts softly but doesn't reply, letting their conversation lapse into silence. He's not sure how long they've been standing there watching, although it couldn't have been more than ten minutes, but he still starts when Sirius speaks again.
"It's a bit sad, though, isn't it?" Sirius asks just as finally finds a cigarette in the depths of his pocket and lights it.
Remus turns to look at Sirius, his profile striking even on this cloudy day, with the smoke rising and curling around him.
"I suppose it is, yeah."
"They're meant to be free, you know? Roaming about the plains or what-have-you, all that power and energy and instead they're trapped here in foggy London."
Sirius shakes his head. "That could've been me with my family. Trapped. Although I guess we're sort of trapped now, aren't we?"
Remus wants to point out that they could leave at any time, run far away, and leave this war behind but he knows that they never could. They just didn't have it in them, their ramshackle lot. You can take the boys out of Gryffindor, but you can't take the Gryffindor out of the boys, Remus thinks wryly.
"We'll be alright, you know," Remus says softly.
"Yeah," Sirius says, but it's not nearly convincing enough.
As Sirius's hand reaches and curls around his, palms cool, it occurs to Remus that maybe they will be. Maybe when the wait is over, they’ll be alright.
characters/pairings: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Remus/Sirius
genre: humor/angst
ratings/warnings: there's swearing but not much else. take that as you will. pg-13.
word count: 1, 214
summary: If Remus had been told five years ago that his post-Hogwarts life would consist of waiting around for orders from a clandestine rebel group in a blood war, he would've raised an eyebrow, chuckled calmly and kindly suggested that that person pay a visit to Madame Pomfrey.
Waiting is the worst part, Remus has decided. It's not the battles, the skirmishes, the moments where he's out of breath, gripping onto his wand too tight, his knuckles white and he's not sure if he'll make it through the next minute, let alone the next hour. It's not the missions where he very nearly lost all that he holds dear in the span of second, like that time, that one painful time when James and Sirius had nearly gotten themselves killed like the fuck-all why won't they ever listen to him idiots that they are.
No, it's the waiting. It's the stagnancy, the apprehensive calm before the storm, the wasting away. It's the before and the after, and only during does he ever truly feel alive.
If Remus had been told five years ago that his post-Hogwarts life would consist of waiting around for orders from a clandestine rebel group in a blood war, he would've raised an eyebrow, chuckled calmly and kindly suggested that that person pay a visit to Madame Pomfrey. It sounds unreal, outlandish, like a story that Sirius would've made up where they go dashing about like great heroes. They're not heroes, though, just soldiers waiting to be called for their own secret draft. They’re just young boys trying to be adults, and not quite making it.
It's maddening, Remus thinks. Dimly he realizes that it's maddening for all of them, for James, Sirius, Lily and maybe even Peter who never really wanted to get involved in the first place. But here in his cramped flat with the broken pipes and the long-since expired eggs, Remus can't help but self-indulgently think that it's the most maddening for him.
He might not make rent, but it all seems to trivial when he could die tomorrow.
The banging of someone knocking on his door shakes Remus out of his thoughts. Two sharp knocks followed by a bang of the elbow. He can hear the sound of someone impatiently shifting from foot to foot, as if the very act of standing still would be just too much. Only Sirius Black could ever display such impatience at something so simple as allowing a person time to reach the door.
"We need to do something," Sirius blurts as Remus opens the door.
"What happened over Christmas hols of 6th Year?" Remus asks calmly, not opening the door completely. Even if every fiber of his being was telling him that this was Sirius, telling him that there's no one in this world whose mannerisms he could possibly know better, one can never be sure. Not now, not in these times.
"I drank too much Firewhisky, put on one of Alice's dresses and sang 'Dancing Queen,'" Sirius grits out impatiently.
Remus nods curtly and swings the door open wide enough to let Sirius in before shutting it quickly.
"We have to do something?" Remus asks.
Sirius fumbles in his coat for a cigarette, and upon finding none, resumes his shifting from side to side. Remus vaguely entertains the idea of telling Sirius to stop, because it really is an annoying habit, but there'd be no use. Sirius is an irrepressible force and a bored Sirius even more so.
"I can't just, just sit around anymore. I'm just so bloody tired of the waiting."
"We can't exactly go frolicking about London, Pads."
"And why not? No, really Remus, why the fuck not?"
Remus clenches his jaw and reins in any sarcasm. There's a time and a place, but this isn't the moment for not entirely good-natured ribbing and letting their tempers get the best of them.
"It's not safe," Remus reminds him.
"We're no safer in our own flats, no matter how strong our wards are," Sirius argues.
It's true, though, and Remus can't muster up his usual logical argument, his usual need for precaution. He's always been the voice of reason, but too much time cooped up, too much time in this war has made him more reckless than he'd like. Not reckless like James and certainly not like Sirius, but Remus can't help but think that he's acting in a way that is decidedly Not Remus. Remus would stay inside, Remus would read a book and follow orders.
Remus can't stand to stare at his wallpaper any longer.
He yields. "Where will we go?"
Sirius fidgets and Remus gets the impression that he didn't think any further than Going Somewhere Now Right Now.
"The zoo," Sirius states defiantly, chin set.
Remus blinks and it has to be the most absurd idea that he's heard in a long time, and he's heard a lot of absurd ideas. It always was one of the perils of being a Marauder.
They could and should take the tube there, but something about the long walk and the fresh air is entirely too appealing, and they decide to damn the consequences.
There could be Death Eaters lurking behind the nearest street vendor or in the nearest alley (constant vigilance, he recites to himself), but walking alongside his dearest friend, Remus feels safer then he's felt in weeks.
Remus considers snagging a zoo map, but Sirius insists that they won't need one, and he supposes that they really didn't. It seems that they found their way to the lions by sheer instinct.
"You can take the boys out of Gryffindor..." Sirius cracks.
"If only I were wearing my red and gold scarf," Remus laments.
"Nah, s'too garish for you. It was always much more handsome on me," Sirius says.
Remus snorts softly but doesn't reply, letting their conversation lapse into silence. He's not sure how long they've been standing there watching, although it couldn't have been more than ten minutes, but he still starts when Sirius speaks again.
"It's a bit sad, though, isn't it?" Sirius asks just as finally finds a cigarette in the depths of his pocket and lights it.
Remus turns to look at Sirius, his profile striking even on this cloudy day, with the smoke rising and curling around him.
"I suppose it is, yeah."
"They're meant to be free, you know? Roaming about the plains or what-have-you, all that power and energy and instead they're trapped here in foggy London."
Sirius shakes his head. "That could've been me with my family. Trapped. Although I guess we're sort of trapped now, aren't we?"
Remus wants to point out that they could leave at any time, run far away, and leave this war behind but he knows that they never could. They just didn't have it in them, their ramshackle lot. You can take the boys out of Gryffindor, but you can't take the Gryffindor out of the boys, Remus thinks wryly.
"We'll be alright, you know," Remus says softly.
"Yeah," Sirius says, but it's not nearly convincing enough.
As Sirius's hand reaches and curls around his, palms cool, it occurs to Remus that maybe they will be. Maybe when the wait is over, they’ll be alright.