Holy Shit, I Wrote A Fic!
For those of you new to my journal, lo these many years ago, before it was taken over by Monster High, this journal was pretty much all Harry Potter, all the time. A lot of that was concerned with fanfic (mostly Remus/Sirius): ranting about it, reading it, writing it, discussing it, etc. That waned as I went to college and had like, parties to go to on Friday nights, instead of my Friday Night Fanfic Binge (seriously, I did it so often I gave it a proper name)... But I've always got at least one epically long story going (right now I actually have three... oops), and inspiration for short ones strikes now and again.
So, without further ado, the fic I wrote in about half an hour tonight, unbetaed except by me.
Title: Daylight
Pairing: Remus/Sirius (If you're not familiar with HP ship names, and you hear me mention Wolfstar, that's this pairing)
Warnings: None.
Rating: Oh God, I'm crap at ratings, PG?
Notes: Inspired by Maroon 5's Daylight (listen here, if you feel so inclined), and written in a weird style. (That style is "stream of consciousness and run-on sentences" but I swear it's not as bad as it sounds.) This was originally supposed to be 1. a drabble and 2. sad like the song, but I couldn't 1. shut myself up or 2. leave the puppies in a sad place.
Summary: Tonight I need to hold you so close...
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Sirius looks down at the beautiful boy in his arms and wishes it would never get light. When the sun comes up, Remus will stir, as he has every other time, squeeze Sirius’ hand one last time, and walk away to the infirmary alone. Then they’ll go back to their everyday lives, with no change in behavior, no sign at all, that these full moon pre-dawn whatevers mean as much to Remus as they do to Sirius. It’s been months now, once a month only, when Remus looks at him with begging eyes, and Sirius hangs back to “walk him to the infirmary” only to hold him on the filthy bed in the Shrieking Shack instead.
Sirius has no idea what made Remus ask him for this the first time, and he has no idea why Remus keeps asking, because nothing else has changed between them even the slightest bit. Sirius could ask him, obviously, but he can’t find the words; not in the dorm, or the hallway, not when they’re hiding under the cloak together, mid-prank, and especially not in these quiet moments. Fear has taken all his words, fear that if he says anything, asks the question, he’ll break the spell and lose this monthly moment they have. No matter how brief it is, it’s more than he had before, and he will do anything to keep it. And when all he has to do to keep it is keep quiet, he thinks he can manage that.
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Remus never expected Sirius to say yes, doesn't even know why he asked in the first place. He was tired, those many full moons ago, so tired after the night of running as a wolf that his thoughts extended no further than the immediate and his need for comfort. Sirius was who he wanted it from, so he asked, heedless of anyone else hearing. But his asking must have been quiet, for only Sirius remained. James and Peter never said anything about it; Remus didn't know what Sirius told them and he didn’t much care. He was just grateful to be with Sirius and not have to hear about it.
That was, of course the heart of his problem. He had wanted Sirius like this, and more, so much more, since possibly the first time he’d laid eyes on him, assuming that 11 year olds could feel the depth of the feelings he had now. Even if they couldn’t, his feelings had matured into this, and he was in love, hopelessly and helplessly and unable to stop or move forward, trapped in a stillness of time, at once beautiful and heartbreaking. All his life he had lived in fear of others finding out, all his life he had kept his distance and shut himself off, and suffered for it, not only loneliness but also ridicule, and then it had all stopped with his miraculous acceptance to school; he had magic and friends and he dared not hope for more. But more had come, so much more, more magic, of every kind, and if he could just reach a little further, just open himself that tiny extra bit… but old habits die hard, too hard, and he couldn’t do it, too afraid to end this magic, too afraid to hear that the reason for it was pity after all, too afraid to lose what little he had gained. So he lay in the strong arms until the sun came up, then slipped away.
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The knock comes softly at Remus’ bedroom door, so softly that at first he thinks he’s imagined it, but then it comes again and a moment later the knob turns and Sirius is standing there. He’s been staying with Remus a week, and neither of them quite knows how to handle it. He crosses to the bed, almost silently, sits on the edge, looks at Remus… and Remus knows, suddenly and certainly, what’s about to happen. His heart thrills with fear and longing.
Sirius doesn’t know why he’s picked this night to come to Remus’ room, or where he found the courage, or even what in the hell he’s doing. All he knows is that he needs something, and it’s probably in here, so here he is. At first it’s heaven just to be held by Remus, to feel his strong arms around his own too thin frame, just like when they were in school (and James and Peter were in the dorm, instead of dead and a traitor), only in reverse. But after a while, he can’t do it anymore. He can’t just lie here, never talking about it; his skin itches with the very thought of doing that again, itches underneath, in a way he can never scratch except to talk so he does. The itching comes out his mouth, in words, in sounds, in a voice so much rougher than it used to be, and he instantly feels better because he’s learned how bad keeping secrets and not talking can be for you. He wonders if things might have turned out differently if he had asked why, why, such a simple question, all those years ago. There’s nothing he can do about that now though; he can only move forward, as he has been doing for the past few years, and so he just starts talking, rambling really, telling Remus how he feels, how he felt seventeen years ago, what he wants and what he doesn’t want and what he’s afraid of and why he never said anything before.
Remus is quiet, just breathing, and his body tenses a little, but he never moves his arms, and their silent reassurance lets Sirius keep going until he’s finished. He sighs, half wondering what Remus will say, half just wanting to go to sleep, because he is tired, so tired, who knew words could be so tiring? And then Remus is talking back, saying so many things Sirius has wanted to hear for so long, saying things he was sure he would never hear, and not just because he was made to believe that everything good was gone. He turns around in the circle of arms to look at Remus’ face, his older but still beautiful face, and Remus is asking him something, something very important, but he can’t hear anymore.
In the next instant they’re kissing, and neither of them knows why, why now, why not before, and they fall asleep on Remus’ bed after more talking, an eternity of words, and don’t get up until well after the sun has risen.
So, without further ado, the fic I wrote in about half an hour tonight, unbetaed except by me.
Title: Daylight
Pairing: Remus/Sirius (If you're not familiar with HP ship names, and you hear me mention Wolfstar, that's this pairing)
Warnings: None.
Rating: Oh God, I'm crap at ratings, PG?
Notes: Inspired by Maroon 5's Daylight (listen here, if you feel so inclined), and written in a weird style. (That style is "stream of consciousness and run-on sentences" but I swear it's not as bad as it sounds.) This was originally supposed to be 1. a drabble and 2. sad like the song, but I couldn't 1. shut myself up or 2. leave the puppies in a sad place.
Summary: Tonight I need to hold you so close...
******************************************************************************************************************************************
Sirius looks down at the beautiful boy in his arms and wishes it would never get light. When the sun comes up, Remus will stir, as he has every other time, squeeze Sirius’ hand one last time, and walk away to the infirmary alone. Then they’ll go back to their everyday lives, with no change in behavior, no sign at all, that these full moon pre-dawn whatevers mean as much to Remus as they do to Sirius. It’s been months now, once a month only, when Remus looks at him with begging eyes, and Sirius hangs back to “walk him to the infirmary” only to hold him on the filthy bed in the Shrieking Shack instead.
Sirius has no idea what made Remus ask him for this the first time, and he has no idea why Remus keeps asking, because nothing else has changed between them even the slightest bit. Sirius could ask him, obviously, but he can’t find the words; not in the dorm, or the hallway, not when they’re hiding under the cloak together, mid-prank, and especially not in these quiet moments. Fear has taken all his words, fear that if he says anything, asks the question, he’ll break the spell and lose this monthly moment they have. No matter how brief it is, it’s more than he had before, and he will do anything to keep it. And when all he has to do to keep it is keep quiet, he thinks he can manage that.
********************************************************************************************************************************************
Remus never expected Sirius to say yes, doesn't even know why he asked in the first place. He was tired, those many full moons ago, so tired after the night of running as a wolf that his thoughts extended no further than the immediate and his need for comfort. Sirius was who he wanted it from, so he asked, heedless of anyone else hearing. But his asking must have been quiet, for only Sirius remained. James and Peter never said anything about it; Remus didn't know what Sirius told them and he didn’t much care. He was just grateful to be with Sirius and not have to hear about it.
That was, of course the heart of his problem. He had wanted Sirius like this, and more, so much more, since possibly the first time he’d laid eyes on him, assuming that 11 year olds could feel the depth of the feelings he had now. Even if they couldn’t, his feelings had matured into this, and he was in love, hopelessly and helplessly and unable to stop or move forward, trapped in a stillness of time, at once beautiful and heartbreaking. All his life he had lived in fear of others finding out, all his life he had kept his distance and shut himself off, and suffered for it, not only loneliness but also ridicule, and then it had all stopped with his miraculous acceptance to school; he had magic and friends and he dared not hope for more. But more had come, so much more, more magic, of every kind, and if he could just reach a little further, just open himself that tiny extra bit… but old habits die hard, too hard, and he couldn’t do it, too afraid to end this magic, too afraid to hear that the reason for it was pity after all, too afraid to lose what little he had gained. So he lay in the strong arms until the sun came up, then slipped away.
**********************************************************************************************************************************************
The knock comes softly at Remus’ bedroom door, so softly that at first he thinks he’s imagined it, but then it comes again and a moment later the knob turns and Sirius is standing there. He’s been staying with Remus a week, and neither of them quite knows how to handle it. He crosses to the bed, almost silently, sits on the edge, looks at Remus… and Remus knows, suddenly and certainly, what’s about to happen. His heart thrills with fear and longing.
Sirius doesn’t know why he’s picked this night to come to Remus’ room, or where he found the courage, or even what in the hell he’s doing. All he knows is that he needs something, and it’s probably in here, so here he is. At first it’s heaven just to be held by Remus, to feel his strong arms around his own too thin frame, just like when they were in school (and James and Peter were in the dorm, instead of dead and a traitor), only in reverse. But after a while, he can’t do it anymore. He can’t just lie here, never talking about it; his skin itches with the very thought of doing that again, itches underneath, in a way he can never scratch except to talk so he does. The itching comes out his mouth, in words, in sounds, in a voice so much rougher than it used to be, and he instantly feels better because he’s learned how bad keeping secrets and not talking can be for you. He wonders if things might have turned out differently if he had asked why, why, such a simple question, all those years ago. There’s nothing he can do about that now though; he can only move forward, as he has been doing for the past few years, and so he just starts talking, rambling really, telling Remus how he feels, how he felt seventeen years ago, what he wants and what he doesn’t want and what he’s afraid of and why he never said anything before.
Remus is quiet, just breathing, and his body tenses a little, but he never moves his arms, and their silent reassurance lets Sirius keep going until he’s finished. He sighs, half wondering what Remus will say, half just wanting to go to sleep, because he is tired, so tired, who knew words could be so tiring? And then Remus is talking back, saying so many things Sirius has wanted to hear for so long, saying things he was sure he would never hear, and not just because he was made to believe that everything good was gone. He turns around in the circle of arms to look at Remus’ face, his older but still beautiful face, and Remus is asking him something, something very important, but he can’t hear anymore.
In the next instant they’re kissing, and neither of them knows why, why now, why not before, and they fall asleep on Remus’ bed after more talking, an eternity of words, and don’t get up until well after the sun has risen.