FIC: To Autumn
Title: To Autumn
Rating: G
Words: 383
Disclaimer: All your characters are belong to Jo.
Summary: Barefoot Boys, Prompt 2 (Keats’ “To Autumn”). Written after this one (because I’m weird like that), but it takes place at the same time. Remus’ version of saying hello on Platform 9 ¾.
+++
Six years ago, autumn terrified Remus.
Despite Dumbledore’s assurances that everything would be fine, that they would accommodate his special … needs … he was scared. Scared to transform in a strange place, to wake up without his mother’s soothing hands and potions and gentle cleansing of his wounds. Scared that the other children would see his scars and wonder - and laugh - and whisper - and figure out what he was hiding. Scared that he wouldn’t have any friends. And worse, that he might make friends, only to lose them when they found out.
This year is different.
He’s been waiting all summer for autumn to come. Every day, waiting for Sirius’ owl to tap on his window bearing letters and chocolates and rude drawings of the antics he and James were getting up to. Waiting for this morning, the morning he’d burst through the barrier onto Platform 9 ¾ and see his friends waiting in the golden autumn sunlight.
Finally it’s here.
He shoulders his book bag, clutching a bar of dark chocolate and his wand in one hand, and waves goodbye to his parents.
James will be stealing glances at Lily. Peter will be trying to shake off his mum, who tends to cling to him till the last moment. Sirius will be standing with his hands in his pockets, hair falling in his eyes, surveying the crowd regally.
It’s unlikely, he thinks, that Sirius will have saved each letter and folded them carefully and tied them up into a little bundle and tucked them safely into the bottom of his trunk (as he has done). Improbable, though not impossible.
Don’t make it into that, he tells himself as he strides toward the barrier, drawing a few curious looks from passing Muggles. Don’t make it something it’s not.
He leans against the barrier and melts through, into a small crowd of fellow students, into the familiar scene of back-to-school. Wizards and witches all around, owls hooting and dozing in their cages, steam billowing from the stacks of the cherry-red train.
And there - there they are, his friends, just as he knew they’d be - he feels his face curling into a grin - and though he hears Peter’s “He’s here!” and James’ “Oi! Moony!” as he walks toward them, he sees only one.
Rating: G
Words: 383
Disclaimer: All your characters are belong to Jo.
Summary: Barefoot Boys, Prompt 2 (Keats’ “To Autumn”). Written after this one (because I’m weird like that), but it takes place at the same time. Remus’ version of saying hello on Platform 9 ¾.
+++
Six years ago, autumn terrified Remus.
Despite Dumbledore’s assurances that everything would be fine, that they would accommodate his special … needs … he was scared. Scared to transform in a strange place, to wake up without his mother’s soothing hands and potions and gentle cleansing of his wounds. Scared that the other children would see his scars and wonder - and laugh - and whisper - and figure out what he was hiding. Scared that he wouldn’t have any friends. And worse, that he might make friends, only to lose them when they found out.
This year is different.
He’s been waiting all summer for autumn to come. Every day, waiting for Sirius’ owl to tap on his window bearing letters and chocolates and rude drawings of the antics he and James were getting up to. Waiting for this morning, the morning he’d burst through the barrier onto Platform 9 ¾ and see his friends waiting in the golden autumn sunlight.
Finally it’s here.
He shoulders his book bag, clutching a bar of dark chocolate and his wand in one hand, and waves goodbye to his parents.
James will be stealing glances at Lily. Peter will be trying to shake off his mum, who tends to cling to him till the last moment. Sirius will be standing with his hands in his pockets, hair falling in his eyes, surveying the crowd regally.
It’s unlikely, he thinks, that Sirius will have saved each letter and folded them carefully and tied them up into a little bundle and tucked them safely into the bottom of his trunk (as he has done). Improbable, though not impossible.
Don’t make it into that, he tells himself as he strides toward the barrier, drawing a few curious looks from passing Muggles. Don’t make it something it’s not.
He leans against the barrier and melts through, into a small crowd of fellow students, into the familiar scene of back-to-school. Wizards and witches all around, owls hooting and dozing in their cages, steam billowing from the stacks of the cherry-red train.
And there - there they are, his friends, just as he knew they’d be - he feels his face curling into a grin - and though he hears Peter’s “He’s here!” and James’ “Oi! Moony!” as he walks toward them, he sees only one.