Prompts 5 & 20; Wish I Might
Title: Wish I Might
Author: scarlett71177
Format & Word Count: Ficlet; 1115
Rating: G
Prompt: #5- kiss quote, #20- photo of party streamers
Warning: Angst
Summary: Remus contemplates his relationship on the night of his wedding reception.
A/N: Unbeta'd, officially.
I stand at the threshold of the door, watching my new bride look up through lazy streamers to gaze at the stars in a sky splashed with indigo. She’s a grown woman but she still wishes on them every night.
“It was a lovely party,” she says abruptly, hugging herself tight against the damp settling in. The crickets continue to chirp loudly and a large brown moth flutters up to the red and black paper lanterns swinging gently in the breeze. She hugs herself tight, fingers vigorously rubbing the back of her bare arms. I want to step closer, enfold her in my arms and keep her warm, but I don’t.
“I wish- ”
“Don’t say it, Remus. Just don’t. Please.”
She’s always told me she thought I was a Legilimens. I’d never tell her this, but sometimes I wonder if she is.
She knows what I wish for, what I’ve wish for every night since I met her two years ago. I wish I could be something I’m not, I wish I could give her everything she’s ever wanted- I wish I could have given her a proper wedding reception.
“It was good of Molly and my mum to throw us this party. It was all I could have hoped for.”
I feel my shoulders settle as I sigh. I didn’t mean to insinuate that Molly and Andromeda’s efforts were not appreciated because it had been a lovely party, there was no doubt about it. When Molly approached and offered to help host a party in mine and Dora’s honour I was flabbergasted that anyone would want to do something so generous. But as it all came to pass it became more and more evident that I couldn’t have given this to Dora no matter what. True, there was nothing grand about it, just Dora’s parents, Molly and Arthur, Mad-Eye, Kingsley, and Bill and Fleur, but there were so many absent- Dora’s friends from Hogwarts and co-workers - people whose wedding receptions would not have been a garden chat with pudding. And again, it’s not that it wasn’t appreciated, it’s just that she deserves more.
“It was a nice night,” I concede, stuffing my hands in my pockets, simply watching her.
She lets her arms fall to her side and looks over her shoulder. “C’mere,” she whispers, her eyes gleaming yellow like a cat’s under the warm glow of the lanterns.
I stare at her long after her gaze returns to the heavens. I should go to her, and I want to go to her, to stand by her side, to feel her slip her hand in mine. Just standing near her I feel bolstered, buoyant, but that is so much pressure to put upon something so innocent and beautiful. I don’t want to taint her with any more of my darkness.
Bright coils of paper streamers crush beneath my feet as I move toward her and she extends a hand for mine. As our fingers touch I feel her skin is ice cold and I wrap my hands around hers, cursing myself for not offering her my jacket.
“Are you cold- do you want my jacket?” I ask, shifting slightly as she leans her body against me, resting her back against my chest, drawing my arms around her waist.
“No, just you. Besides, your jacket doesn’t match my dress,” she teases.
Though she didn’t wear white for our wedding or the party tonight, she looked every bit a beautiful bride in a black dress with multi-coloured polka-dots. She rests her head on my shoulder, her bright pink locks tickling my ear when the breeze blows.
“It was nice of your parents to let us have the house for the evening, but we could have gone home,” I say, catching the faint scent of her perfume wafting on the breeze, letting the scent of her work its own magic on my senses and psyche.
“True, but this is almost like a honeymoon, you know? Not going home tonight.”
Her voice is full of its usual cheer and innocence, and I know she didn’t mean it, but it’s just another reminder of what I cannot give my bride- a honeymoon. Though she’d never complain, it would have been nice to steal away for a weekend- somewhere secluded; somewhere we wouldn’t have constant reminders of what I cannot give her, somewhere without impending dread and a sense of responsibility.
“Mm,” I hum, realising I’ve not yet responded to her statement.
She falls silent, relaxing completely in my arms, and I can feel each breath draw in and out of her body. “What should we wish for?” she asks suddenly, letting a relaxed sigh follow her question.
What would I wish for indeed. I’ve never had so many constant reminders of my condition. When Dora and I told people we were getting married- everyone seemed to wonder if it were possible, if it was legal, if any special measures needed to be arranged. It’s true that I know very little about my kind in regard to marriage and procreation, but it caught me off guard that, evidently, it seemed to be on the minds of our friends and families as well. I’d never felt so ostracised- even if it was in my own mind.
“I think you know what I’d wish for,” I answer in a thick voice.
“I know,” she says, giving my hand a squeeze. “But let’s wish for something together- something just for us.”
I shouldn’t be thinking like this- not today. She is so happy, and I could be if I’d only let myself. “You’ll think of something,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What do you always wish for?”
She turns around in my arms and loops her hands behind my neck, twirling my hair in her fingers as she meets my gaze. My heart thrums against my chest and butterflies swoop and swarm in my stomach; she’s never failed to kindle feelings of desire and passion within me. “That wish came true,” she says bashfully. “I’m already Mrs Remus Lupin.”
We’ve said it all, been through the argument a million times- it’s up to me to believe it. I can’t fathom why she’d wish to be married to me, but I suddenly want to join her in her youthful ritual and wish upon a star; a wish to be all I can- for her, to do whatever it takes to keep her safe and happy.
I tilt my head down towards her, eyes watching as her tongue darts out to moisten her frosted pink lips. My mouth finds hers and there is nothing more to say.
Author: scarlett71177
Format & Word Count: Ficlet; 1115
Rating: G
Prompt: #5- kiss quote, #20- photo of party streamers
Warning: Angst
Summary: Remus contemplates his relationship on the night of his wedding reception.
A/N: Unbeta'd, officially.
I stand at the threshold of the door, watching my new bride look up through lazy streamers to gaze at the stars in a sky splashed with indigo. She’s a grown woman but she still wishes on them every night.
“It was a lovely party,” she says abruptly, hugging herself tight against the damp settling in. The crickets continue to chirp loudly and a large brown moth flutters up to the red and black paper lanterns swinging gently in the breeze. She hugs herself tight, fingers vigorously rubbing the back of her bare arms. I want to step closer, enfold her in my arms and keep her warm, but I don’t.
“I wish- ”
“Don’t say it, Remus. Just don’t. Please.”
She’s always told me she thought I was a Legilimens. I’d never tell her this, but sometimes I wonder if she is.
She knows what I wish for, what I’ve wish for every night since I met her two years ago. I wish I could be something I’m not, I wish I could give her everything she’s ever wanted- I wish I could have given her a proper wedding reception.
“It was good of Molly and my mum to throw us this party. It was all I could have hoped for.”
I feel my shoulders settle as I sigh. I didn’t mean to insinuate that Molly and Andromeda’s efforts were not appreciated because it had been a lovely party, there was no doubt about it. When Molly approached and offered to help host a party in mine and Dora’s honour I was flabbergasted that anyone would want to do something so generous. But as it all came to pass it became more and more evident that I couldn’t have given this to Dora no matter what. True, there was nothing grand about it, just Dora’s parents, Molly and Arthur, Mad-Eye, Kingsley, and Bill and Fleur, but there were so many absent- Dora’s friends from Hogwarts and co-workers - people whose wedding receptions would not have been a garden chat with pudding. And again, it’s not that it wasn’t appreciated, it’s just that she deserves more.
“It was a nice night,” I concede, stuffing my hands in my pockets, simply watching her.
She lets her arms fall to her side and looks over her shoulder. “C’mere,” she whispers, her eyes gleaming yellow like a cat’s under the warm glow of the lanterns.
I stare at her long after her gaze returns to the heavens. I should go to her, and I want to go to her, to stand by her side, to feel her slip her hand in mine. Just standing near her I feel bolstered, buoyant, but that is so much pressure to put upon something so innocent and beautiful. I don’t want to taint her with any more of my darkness.
Bright coils of paper streamers crush beneath my feet as I move toward her and she extends a hand for mine. As our fingers touch I feel her skin is ice cold and I wrap my hands around hers, cursing myself for not offering her my jacket.
“Are you cold- do you want my jacket?” I ask, shifting slightly as she leans her body against me, resting her back against my chest, drawing my arms around her waist.
“No, just you. Besides, your jacket doesn’t match my dress,” she teases.
Though she didn’t wear white for our wedding or the party tonight, she looked every bit a beautiful bride in a black dress with multi-coloured polka-dots. She rests her head on my shoulder, her bright pink locks tickling my ear when the breeze blows.
“It was nice of your parents to let us have the house for the evening, but we could have gone home,” I say, catching the faint scent of her perfume wafting on the breeze, letting the scent of her work its own magic on my senses and psyche.
“True, but this is almost like a honeymoon, you know? Not going home tonight.”
Her voice is full of its usual cheer and innocence, and I know she didn’t mean it, but it’s just another reminder of what I cannot give my bride- a honeymoon. Though she’d never complain, it would have been nice to steal away for a weekend- somewhere secluded; somewhere we wouldn’t have constant reminders of what I cannot give her, somewhere without impending dread and a sense of responsibility.
“Mm,” I hum, realising I’ve not yet responded to her statement.
She falls silent, relaxing completely in my arms, and I can feel each breath draw in and out of her body. “What should we wish for?” she asks suddenly, letting a relaxed sigh follow her question.
What would I wish for indeed. I’ve never had so many constant reminders of my condition. When Dora and I told people we were getting married- everyone seemed to wonder if it were possible, if it was legal, if any special measures needed to be arranged. It’s true that I know very little about my kind in regard to marriage and procreation, but it caught me off guard that, evidently, it seemed to be on the minds of our friends and families as well. I’d never felt so ostracised- even if it was in my own mind.
“I think you know what I’d wish for,” I answer in a thick voice.
“I know,” she says, giving my hand a squeeze. “But let’s wish for something together- something just for us.”
I shouldn’t be thinking like this- not today. She is so happy, and I could be if I’d only let myself. “You’ll think of something,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What do you always wish for?”
She turns around in my arms and loops her hands behind my neck, twirling my hair in her fingers as she meets my gaze. My heart thrums against my chest and butterflies swoop and swarm in my stomach; she’s never failed to kindle feelings of desire and passion within me. “That wish came true,” she says bashfully. “I’m already Mrs Remus Lupin.”
We’ve said it all, been through the argument a million times- it’s up to me to believe it. I can’t fathom why she’d wish to be married to me, but I suddenly want to join her in her youthful ritual and wish upon a star; a wish to be all I can- for her, to do whatever it takes to keep her safe and happy.
I tilt my head down towards her, eyes watching as her tongue darts out to moisten her frosted pink lips. My mouth finds hers and there is nothing more to say.