Look, drabbles!
Because I got to do both early and late round of queerditch_pub, here's some drabbles. Theme tonight was consequences, and general rating of G. At least half of them are platonic.
Remus remembered the Muggle school he went to before Hogwarts. He didn’t much like or understand what he learned of science-magic kicked science soundly in the hindquarters-but he remembered something his teacher said once. “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.”
He hadn’t realized it at the time, but Remus supposed he must have loved Sirius an awful lot for Sirius to have betrayed them all like that.
*
“One person can’t feel all that at once, they’d explode.”
Figures that it would be Ron’s voice in his head that he heard, when he started thinking about Lupin. And Sirius. Lupin and Sirius.
Harry supposed it was perverted of him to be jealous of his dead godfather for having been Remus Lupin’s lover. And stupid of him, that he could never stop getting into fights when Lupin was around, even if they would always be stopped with the touch of Lupin’s hand on his shoulder.
“Harry, it’s all right to grieve,” Lupin kept saying.
So of course Harry felt resentful of Lupin too, for being calm and unruffled and not openly grieving, even though he knew Lupin mourned Sirius as much as Harry himself did, if not more.
“Go away,” Harry kept muttering, and Lupin always did, and Harry would feel sad and alone and stupid for having driven Lupin away again.
“How does he do it?” Harry muttered aloud once, when there was no one in the room but him. “Keep everything pent up like that…”
“Practice,” a voice coming from behind him said. Harry turned around to see Lupin leaning against the doorframe, looking tired and wan. “Years of self-control. Sometimes I don’t even think of letting out my anger anymore.” He sighed.
“Teach me,” Harry said, almost before he thought. But then, he didn’t think he’d mind Lupin giving him more lessons.
Lupin smiled, but Harry could see his heart wasn’t in it. “It’s not really something you can teach, Harry,” Lupin said. “Or rather, not something I can teach. Life gives you practice, and you put it to use.”
He gave Harry another smile, and then he turned around and left. Harry watched him go, and felt very alone.
*
“You shouldn’t have stuck around long enough for them to use the Cruciatus on you, you know,”
Bill coughed. “I know, Remus, thank you. I really hadn’t thought of that.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic,” Remus commented mildly. “Especially when I’ve brought you a potion meant to dull the ache.”
Bill grabbed at the potion wildly, and Remus laughed. “C’mon Remus, give me the potion,” Bill almost growled. “I’m a bad spy and I won’t do it again now give me the goddamn potion!”
Remus’s laughter increased as he handed over the goblet. “Mind you remember that,” he said around chuckles.
“I will,” Bill said, downing the potion in one gulp, and falling back against the pillows, eyes closing in sleep.
Remus smiled, and, still chuckling, left the room.
*
“I can’t.” Sirius looked like he would have been pacing, had he been standing up. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”
“Sirius-”
“I think I’m going insane, Remus.” Sirius had his hands buried in his hair, fists curled around strands of it. “I feel like one day I’m just going to smash into the walls, trying to get through them. I concussed myself, once, doing that in Azkaban. It was early on, when they still hoped to get information out of me, so they brought in a Healer and wouldn’t let me try to sleep. Not that I wanted to sleep, because I always saw James when I slept, only he wasn’t sleeping, he was dead-”
“Sirius,” Remus said, feeling sick and trying to hide it. “Sirius, you’re not in Azkaban anymore.”
Sirius looked up at him, and Remus could see something burning in his eyes, something that looked like it would scorch him soon. “No, I’m not,” Sirius said bleakly. “But is this any better? James is still dead and I see him when I sleep. And I can’t get out. I can’t get out, Remus, I can’t get out!” His voice rose high and cracked, and he just looked at Remus. Like, Remus thought uneasily, a dog in pain, hoping his master will help him.
“Sirius. Sirius, I…”
“Is there anything else you can say, Remus, besides my name?” Sirius asked bitterly. “No, I suppose there isn’t. You can’t get me out of here.”
Remus looked at him, and felt like he was in a pool of quicksand, even though the Blacks would never build their house upon something as unstable as quicksand. “I wish…” Remus began, and stopped.
“Wishes don’t get you anywhere,” Sirius said quietly, and stood up and left the room, leaving Remus to stare after him.
*
Arthur blinked. Several times. “Again?” he asked, feeling slightly faint.
Molly nodded, and smiled down gently at little Ron, yawning in her arms. “I’m about two months along. Oh Arthur, I do hope this one is a girl…”
“Seven.” Arthur pulled a chair towards himself and sat down heavily. “I hope I can provide for them all…”
“We can do it,” Molly said briskly. “I think this one might be our last, and maybe, once she’s here, I can start teaching again.” Arthur didn’t even protest Molly’s confident use of “she”.
But, Arthur thought, wouldn’t it be lovely if it really is a girl? He looked up at Molly again, and smiled widely. “I love you,” he told her, pulling her gently towards him and kissing her on the lips. He looked down at Ron, nestled in her arms, and kissed him on the forehead.
“Arthur,” Molly smiled back. She bounced Ron in her arms, and he giggled.
*
“And,” Andromeda said, shrugging into her coat, “don’t be afraid to put her in time out, if you think it’s necessary.”
Sirius exchanged glances with Remus. “Er, what would require her being put in time out?”
“Oh, her destroying the house,” Andromeda said flippantly. “I don’t think you need to worry. Ready, Ted?”
“I’ve been ready,” Ted sighed, then grinned and held out his arm for Andromeda to take. “Don’t worry, Dora’s a real nice kid. She won’t do anything bad on purpose.”
Two hours later, Remus buried his head in his hands. “Not on purpose?” he groaned. “She sure can do a lot accidentally, then!”
Sirius rubbed Remus’s shoulders soothingly. “We can put her to bed, can’t we? Two-year-olds do go to sleep at eight, don’t they?”
“It’s been awhile since I’ve been two,” Remus said dryly, then sighed and leaned back into Sirius. “Well, we can try it, I suppose.”
The only problem was, Dora didn’t want to go to bed. “Shit!” Sirius said the last time Dora wriggled free of his arms and dropped on his foot. Dora giggled and ran off.
“Remus, incoming Dora!” Sirius called. Remus, at the bottom of the stairs, looked up to find Dora running headfirst towards him. At about the fourth stair from the bottom, she leapt, and Remus rushed forward to catch her.
“Moony!” she giggled, and Remus looked up to see Sirius at the head of the stairs, smacking himself lightly in the forehead. Remus rolled his eyes and smiled.
“Aren’t you tired, Dora?” Remus asked her gently. “Don’t you want to go to bed?”
Dora appeared to think about it for a moment, then, “No!” She giggled again, and wriggled free of his arms, landing on the stairs and starting down them, then, laughing, ran into the next room.
Sirius walked down the stairs, and at the bottom, rested his forehead against Remus’s shoulder. “I didn’t think babysitting her would be like this!” he moaned. Remus patted him absently on the head.
“Come on,” Remus said, “let’s go find her. Andromeda will kill us if we let something happen to her.” He took Sirius’s hand, and tugged him towards the room Dora had disappeared into.
“Dora?” Sirius called, peering around the doorframe. “Dora, where are you?” A giggle answered him, and they heard the sound of feet running heavily on the floor.
“Oi,” Remus sighed, and followed Sirius into the room. “What we should do is catch her, put her to bed, and lock the door. Who would have imagined a two-year-old to have that much energy?”
“I thought she’d just want to sleep,” Sirius agreed. “Shows what we know about babies, eh?” They followed the sound of the giggles into the next room, then… “Gotcha!” Sirius crowed, bending down and picking Dora up under her arms. “And no getting free this time,” he added, shifting her so that he was holding her more securely.
“Bed time,” Remus said, grinning at her.
Dora screwed up her face. “No!” she wailed. “No no no nonono!”
“Yes,” Sirius told her, leaving the room and climbing the stairs. “Yes yes yes yesyesyes.” Remus followed, snickering.
Sirius put her to bed, then quickly fled the room and locked the door behind him. He slumped against the wall as soon as the door was safely shut.
“And we didn’t even have to resort to time out,” Remus grinned.
“Isn’t bed close enough?” Sirius asked, his eyes closed.
“I suppose,” Remus agreed affably. “But she’s in there and not getting out to wreck more havoc upon the house, so I don’t think it matters.”
Sirius echoed his smile.
*
Even though he tried not to, Sirius winced when Remus brought out the scissors.
“You’re overdue for a haircut,” Remus said gently, and Sirius nodded. He didn’t like the greasy, straggly mess his hair had become, but the scissors reminded him of the time fifth year, when Sirius decided that maybe a haircut would do James’s head some good, and they’d laughed so much that Sirius nearly stabbed both of them several times…
“Do it, then,” Sirius whispered, and Remus nodded, then got to work. There was no laughter. Sirius wasn’t sure if he missed it. He closed his eyes and tried not to remember.
It was all too soon when the sound of the scissors cutting hair stopped, and Sirius opened his eyes again to see Remus in front of him, holding quite a bit of long black hair in his hands.
“Burn it,” Sirius said, to Remus’s unspoken question. “It won’t do anyone any good anymore.”
Remus remembered the Muggle school he went to before Hogwarts. He didn’t much like or understand what he learned of science-magic kicked science soundly in the hindquarters-but he remembered something his teacher said once. “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.”
He hadn’t realized it at the time, but Remus supposed he must have loved Sirius an awful lot for Sirius to have betrayed them all like that.
*
“One person can’t feel all that at once, they’d explode.”
Figures that it would be Ron’s voice in his head that he heard, when he started thinking about Lupin. And Sirius. Lupin and Sirius.
Harry supposed it was perverted of him to be jealous of his dead godfather for having been Remus Lupin’s lover. And stupid of him, that he could never stop getting into fights when Lupin was around, even if they would always be stopped with the touch of Lupin’s hand on his shoulder.
“Harry, it’s all right to grieve,” Lupin kept saying.
So of course Harry felt resentful of Lupin too, for being calm and unruffled and not openly grieving, even though he knew Lupin mourned Sirius as much as Harry himself did, if not more.
“Go away,” Harry kept muttering, and Lupin always did, and Harry would feel sad and alone and stupid for having driven Lupin away again.
“How does he do it?” Harry muttered aloud once, when there was no one in the room but him. “Keep everything pent up like that…”
“Practice,” a voice coming from behind him said. Harry turned around to see Lupin leaning against the doorframe, looking tired and wan. “Years of self-control. Sometimes I don’t even think of letting out my anger anymore.” He sighed.
“Teach me,” Harry said, almost before he thought. But then, he didn’t think he’d mind Lupin giving him more lessons.
Lupin smiled, but Harry could see his heart wasn’t in it. “It’s not really something you can teach, Harry,” Lupin said. “Or rather, not something I can teach. Life gives you practice, and you put it to use.”
He gave Harry another smile, and then he turned around and left. Harry watched him go, and felt very alone.
*
“You shouldn’t have stuck around long enough for them to use the Cruciatus on you, you know,”
Bill coughed. “I know, Remus, thank you. I really hadn’t thought of that.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic,” Remus commented mildly. “Especially when I’ve brought you a potion meant to dull the ache.”
Bill grabbed at the potion wildly, and Remus laughed. “C’mon Remus, give me the potion,” Bill almost growled. “I’m a bad spy and I won’t do it again now give me the goddamn potion!”
Remus’s laughter increased as he handed over the goblet. “Mind you remember that,” he said around chuckles.
“I will,” Bill said, downing the potion in one gulp, and falling back against the pillows, eyes closing in sleep.
Remus smiled, and, still chuckling, left the room.
*
“I can’t.” Sirius looked like he would have been pacing, had he been standing up. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”
“Sirius-”
“I think I’m going insane, Remus.” Sirius had his hands buried in his hair, fists curled around strands of it. “I feel like one day I’m just going to smash into the walls, trying to get through them. I concussed myself, once, doing that in Azkaban. It was early on, when they still hoped to get information out of me, so they brought in a Healer and wouldn’t let me try to sleep. Not that I wanted to sleep, because I always saw James when I slept, only he wasn’t sleeping, he was dead-”
“Sirius,” Remus said, feeling sick and trying to hide it. “Sirius, you’re not in Azkaban anymore.”
Sirius looked up at him, and Remus could see something burning in his eyes, something that looked like it would scorch him soon. “No, I’m not,” Sirius said bleakly. “But is this any better? James is still dead and I see him when I sleep. And I can’t get out. I can’t get out, Remus, I can’t get out!” His voice rose high and cracked, and he just looked at Remus. Like, Remus thought uneasily, a dog in pain, hoping his master will help him.
“Sirius. Sirius, I…”
“Is there anything else you can say, Remus, besides my name?” Sirius asked bitterly. “No, I suppose there isn’t. You can’t get me out of here.”
Remus looked at him, and felt like he was in a pool of quicksand, even though the Blacks would never build their house upon something as unstable as quicksand. “I wish…” Remus began, and stopped.
“Wishes don’t get you anywhere,” Sirius said quietly, and stood up and left the room, leaving Remus to stare after him.
*
Arthur blinked. Several times. “Again?” he asked, feeling slightly faint.
Molly nodded, and smiled down gently at little Ron, yawning in her arms. “I’m about two months along. Oh Arthur, I do hope this one is a girl…”
“Seven.” Arthur pulled a chair towards himself and sat down heavily. “I hope I can provide for them all…”
“We can do it,” Molly said briskly. “I think this one might be our last, and maybe, once she’s here, I can start teaching again.” Arthur didn’t even protest Molly’s confident use of “she”.
But, Arthur thought, wouldn’t it be lovely if it really is a girl? He looked up at Molly again, and smiled widely. “I love you,” he told her, pulling her gently towards him and kissing her on the lips. He looked down at Ron, nestled in her arms, and kissed him on the forehead.
“Arthur,” Molly smiled back. She bounced Ron in her arms, and he giggled.
*
“And,” Andromeda said, shrugging into her coat, “don’t be afraid to put her in time out, if you think it’s necessary.”
Sirius exchanged glances with Remus. “Er, what would require her being put in time out?”
“Oh, her destroying the house,” Andromeda said flippantly. “I don’t think you need to worry. Ready, Ted?”
“I’ve been ready,” Ted sighed, then grinned and held out his arm for Andromeda to take. “Don’t worry, Dora’s a real nice kid. She won’t do anything bad on purpose.”
Two hours later, Remus buried his head in his hands. “Not on purpose?” he groaned. “She sure can do a lot accidentally, then!”
Sirius rubbed Remus’s shoulders soothingly. “We can put her to bed, can’t we? Two-year-olds do go to sleep at eight, don’t they?”
“It’s been awhile since I’ve been two,” Remus said dryly, then sighed and leaned back into Sirius. “Well, we can try it, I suppose.”
The only problem was, Dora didn’t want to go to bed. “Shit!” Sirius said the last time Dora wriggled free of his arms and dropped on his foot. Dora giggled and ran off.
“Remus, incoming Dora!” Sirius called. Remus, at the bottom of the stairs, looked up to find Dora running headfirst towards him. At about the fourth stair from the bottom, she leapt, and Remus rushed forward to catch her.
“Moony!” she giggled, and Remus looked up to see Sirius at the head of the stairs, smacking himself lightly in the forehead. Remus rolled his eyes and smiled.
“Aren’t you tired, Dora?” Remus asked her gently. “Don’t you want to go to bed?”
Dora appeared to think about it for a moment, then, “No!” She giggled again, and wriggled free of his arms, landing on the stairs and starting down them, then, laughing, ran into the next room.
Sirius walked down the stairs, and at the bottom, rested his forehead against Remus’s shoulder. “I didn’t think babysitting her would be like this!” he moaned. Remus patted him absently on the head.
“Come on,” Remus said, “let’s go find her. Andromeda will kill us if we let something happen to her.” He took Sirius’s hand, and tugged him towards the room Dora had disappeared into.
“Dora?” Sirius called, peering around the doorframe. “Dora, where are you?” A giggle answered him, and they heard the sound of feet running heavily on the floor.
“Oi,” Remus sighed, and followed Sirius into the room. “What we should do is catch her, put her to bed, and lock the door. Who would have imagined a two-year-old to have that much energy?”
“I thought she’d just want to sleep,” Sirius agreed. “Shows what we know about babies, eh?” They followed the sound of the giggles into the next room, then… “Gotcha!” Sirius crowed, bending down and picking Dora up under her arms. “And no getting free this time,” he added, shifting her so that he was holding her more securely.
“Bed time,” Remus said, grinning at her.
Dora screwed up her face. “No!” she wailed. “No no no nonono!”
“Yes,” Sirius told her, leaving the room and climbing the stairs. “Yes yes yes yesyesyes.” Remus followed, snickering.
Sirius put her to bed, then quickly fled the room and locked the door behind him. He slumped against the wall as soon as the door was safely shut.
“And we didn’t even have to resort to time out,” Remus grinned.
“Isn’t bed close enough?” Sirius asked, his eyes closed.
“I suppose,” Remus agreed affably. “But she’s in there and not getting out to wreck more havoc upon the house, so I don’t think it matters.”
Sirius echoed his smile.
*
Even though he tried not to, Sirius winced when Remus brought out the scissors.
“You’re overdue for a haircut,” Remus said gently, and Sirius nodded. He didn’t like the greasy, straggly mess his hair had become, but the scissors reminded him of the time fifth year, when Sirius decided that maybe a haircut would do James’s head some good, and they’d laughed so much that Sirius nearly stabbed both of them several times…
“Do it, then,” Sirius whispered, and Remus nodded, then got to work. There was no laughter. Sirius wasn’t sure if he missed it. He closed his eyes and tried not to remember.
It was all too soon when the sound of the scissors cutting hair stopped, and Sirius opened his eyes again to see Remus in front of him, holding quite a bit of long black hair in his hands.
“Burn it,” Sirius said, to Remus’s unspoken question. “It won’t do anyone any good anymore.”