au_muses: What do you fear most? [january]
How he got to that particular edge of the forest, he didn't really know. One minute he was out for his nightly walk, and the next he couldn't see exactly where he was going because a thick fog had surrounded him before he could make his way back to the castle. If it wasn't for his wand, Remus knew it would have been nearly impossible to see what was ahead of him - as it was, even with the light the wand was emitting, he couldn't see past two feet from where he stood. Add that to how dark it was, and...
He really was lucky he hadn't forgotten his wand by mistake.
The sudden sound of voices stopped him at once, because the last thing he had been expecting was that people would be in the forest at this hour. Usually it was rare for anyone to actually be in the forest, but hearing someone this late made his defenses rise at once and he dimmed the light of the wand so whoever it was out there wouldn't be able to hear him.
Suddenly two particular voices made him feel as if his heart skipped a few beats, though, and he could feel the hair at the back of his neck starting to rise at once. His stomach felt like it just dropped onto the ground, his mouth went dry, and carefully of not making any noise he moved closer as fast as he could.
But he couldn't see anything. He could hear them well enough, but wherever he turned the voices sometimes faded away as if he was simply walking away from them. Then he changed directions, but it happened again and again. If there was no fog, if he could see, maybe--
Then something else caught his attention. Something that made him want to be sick, and his mind to start repeating like a mantra that it was wrong. That it wasn't them. That it couldn't be them because they had been safe, back in the castle, and it couldn't be them. It just couldn't.
Except, he knew exactly what he had gotten a whiff of. It had sent the wolf inside him into a frenzy at once. It had sent his thoughts running wildly in his head.
Blood.
Sirius' blood. Harry's blood.
He knew the smell of it well enough. He knew Sirius' from the mornings after his transformations, before the Wolfsbane. He knew it from the blood that he himself had drawn from him because Moony hadn't known the difference between a friend and a foe and had tried to attack him more than once. He knew Harry's from whenever he'd get scrapes when he was younger, and his oversensitive sense of smell had gotten a whiff of it. Times like those the wolf moved very close to the surface, registering every smell that it could, but Remus kept telling himself that it couldn't be them. No matter how much he knew that it was, it just...couldn't be.
The desperation at not being able to find them was gnawing at him, making it hard for him to catch his breath, but he kept moving. He kept looking, trying to keep any sort of panic aside but all that was forgotten as the sudden sound of screaming confirmed his fear that they were hurting.
Before he could rush in the direction of where he was sure the screams had come from, though, it stopped. Everything stopped, and the deafening silence that followed was what finally made him feel as if he was going to lose his hold on the terror that had been growing inside him.
But that terror only grew seconds later. After a few steps he could see them. They were on the floor, tied up and bloody, and at once he rushed to their side but it was then that he realized they weren't breathing.
"Sirius," he said urgently, cutting away the ropes from him and Harry. "Harry, wake up. Wake up. You can't-- SIRIUS--"
The sound of a twig breaking a few feet away from him made him look up. Even if deep down he recognized the cloak that the shadow ahead of him was wearing, and even if he knew who it was, he still denied that it was true. It couldn't be true, it--
And with that he wakes up. He's gasping for air, sitting half-way up already, but the relief that it had all been a dream makes him dizzy enough to lay back down. His mouth is dry, there's a knot in his throat, but he doesn't care. It had all been a dream. A terrible, horrible dream.
No matter how terrible or how horrible it is - just like the rest of his nightmares - part of him still feels as if he's there in the forest, surrounded by fog. He can hear their voices. He can hear their screams and smell their blood so clearly that at once he closes his eyes and rakes his fingers through his moist hair, grabbing handfuls of it when not even that works to forget everything.
But he should know better, shouldn't he? That never works.
Opening his eyes, he turns to look at the window as he tries to return his breathing to normal. The moon is growing, of course, and therefore he should have expected this. He should have known this was going to happen at some point this week because the full moon is coming, but...
He's not used to this. As often as the nightmares happen, as often as he gets to see everything he fears the most playing in his head, he cannot get used to seeing Sirius and Harry hurt or dead. It's impossible, especially now because of the danger Harry is in with the tournament. Add that to everything that had already happened with Carrow, and the threat of Voldemort emerging again, and the results aren't good ones. The results are his nightmares, so vivid and feeling so real that it sends a shiver along his body.
With a long sigh he closes his eyes and tries to move past that feeling that he can't quite shake away. At least he hadn't screamed out loud like last time, he thinks wryly, even if he's sure he had probably mumbled throughout it. He's covered in cold sweat - he couldn't have stayed silent with a nightmare that strong.
But he can't focus on his nightmares or his fears, he reminds himself, because if he does he knows it won't help anyone. For now he'll just concentrate on the fact that Harry and Sirius are alive and well. And they are happy, and they are together, and that is what truly matters. Even if he knows he won't be able to go back to sleep, that thought, he hopes, should be enough to push away his fears for now.
word count: 1,155
He really was lucky he hadn't forgotten his wand by mistake.
The sudden sound of voices stopped him at once, because the last thing he had been expecting was that people would be in the forest at this hour. Usually it was rare for anyone to actually be in the forest, but hearing someone this late made his defenses rise at once and he dimmed the light of the wand so whoever it was out there wouldn't be able to hear him.
Suddenly two particular voices made him feel as if his heart skipped a few beats, though, and he could feel the hair at the back of his neck starting to rise at once. His stomach felt like it just dropped onto the ground, his mouth went dry, and carefully of not making any noise he moved closer as fast as he could.
But he couldn't see anything. He could hear them well enough, but wherever he turned the voices sometimes faded away as if he was simply walking away from them. Then he changed directions, but it happened again and again. If there was no fog, if he could see, maybe--
Then something else caught his attention. Something that made him want to be sick, and his mind to start repeating like a mantra that it was wrong. That it wasn't them. That it couldn't be them because they had been safe, back in the castle, and it couldn't be them. It just couldn't.
Except, he knew exactly what he had gotten a whiff of. It had sent the wolf inside him into a frenzy at once. It had sent his thoughts running wildly in his head.
Blood.
Sirius' blood. Harry's blood.
He knew the smell of it well enough. He knew Sirius' from the mornings after his transformations, before the Wolfsbane. He knew it from the blood that he himself had drawn from him because Moony hadn't known the difference between a friend and a foe and had tried to attack him more than once. He knew Harry's from whenever he'd get scrapes when he was younger, and his oversensitive sense of smell had gotten a whiff of it. Times like those the wolf moved very close to the surface, registering every smell that it could, but Remus kept telling himself that it couldn't be them. No matter how much he knew that it was, it just...couldn't be.
The desperation at not being able to find them was gnawing at him, making it hard for him to catch his breath, but he kept moving. He kept looking, trying to keep any sort of panic aside but all that was forgotten as the sudden sound of screaming confirmed his fear that they were hurting.
Before he could rush in the direction of where he was sure the screams had come from, though, it stopped. Everything stopped, and the deafening silence that followed was what finally made him feel as if he was going to lose his hold on the terror that had been growing inside him.
But that terror only grew seconds later. After a few steps he could see them. They were on the floor, tied up and bloody, and at once he rushed to their side but it was then that he realized they weren't breathing.
"Sirius," he said urgently, cutting away the ropes from him and Harry. "Harry, wake up. Wake up. You can't-- SIRIUS--"
The sound of a twig breaking a few feet away from him made him look up. Even if deep down he recognized the cloak that the shadow ahead of him was wearing, and even if he knew who it was, he still denied that it was true. It couldn't be true, it--
And with that he wakes up. He's gasping for air, sitting half-way up already, but the relief that it had all been a dream makes him dizzy enough to lay back down. His mouth is dry, there's a knot in his throat, but he doesn't care. It had all been a dream. A terrible, horrible dream.
No matter how terrible or how horrible it is - just like the rest of his nightmares - part of him still feels as if he's there in the forest, surrounded by fog. He can hear their voices. He can hear their screams and smell their blood so clearly that at once he closes his eyes and rakes his fingers through his moist hair, grabbing handfuls of it when not even that works to forget everything.
But he should know better, shouldn't he? That never works.
Opening his eyes, he turns to look at the window as he tries to return his breathing to normal. The moon is growing, of course, and therefore he should have expected this. He should have known this was going to happen at some point this week because the full moon is coming, but...
He's not used to this. As often as the nightmares happen, as often as he gets to see everything he fears the most playing in his head, he cannot get used to seeing Sirius and Harry hurt or dead. It's impossible, especially now because of the danger Harry is in with the tournament. Add that to everything that had already happened with Carrow, and the threat of Voldemort emerging again, and the results aren't good ones. The results are his nightmares, so vivid and feeling so real that it sends a shiver along his body.
With a long sigh he closes his eyes and tries to move past that feeling that he can't quite shake away. At least he hadn't screamed out loud like last time, he thinks wryly, even if he's sure he had probably mumbled throughout it. He's covered in cold sweat - he couldn't have stayed silent with a nightmare that strong.
But he can't focus on his nightmares or his fears, he reminds himself, because if he does he knows it won't help anyone. For now he'll just concentrate on the fact that Harry and Sirius are alive and well. And they are happy, and they are together, and that is what truly matters. Even if he knows he won't be able to go back to sleep, that thought, he hopes, should be enough to push away his fears for now.
word count: 1,155