Another R/T Fic (they say that admitting your addition is the first step...)
Another challenge from Ruthie.
Title: Once Upon A Time Isn't Happily Ever After (1/2)
Pairing: R/T
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers through DH chapter 11, oh and ANGST!! :)
Summery: Remus walks away.
A/N: HolyMoly did I have a hard time with this...really. I think I struggled with these four pages more that just about anything else I've ever written. Please let me know if it feels right will you?
She lies awake at night and listens to the stillness in the bedroom and knows he’s not asleep. He hasn’t been sleeping well for ages. Not since…well not since they learned about the baby. That beautiful surprise that should have been the crowning jewel of their happiness. With every day that passes, even as her awareness of the life within her grows, he moves a little further away. They go through the motions; maybe he thinks he’s got her fooled. They kiss good morning, they chat over coffee, and when they get home in the evenings they drink tea and watch the fire like they’ve done so many times before. He even puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer.
She’s never felt so alone in her life.
She tells herself its nerves. They’d never expected to be facing parenthood so early. Had certainly never planned on bringing a child into this uncertain time, but that was neither here nor there now. The thing was done and he just needed time to adjust. He just needs time.
They start talking about names and she thinks he’s coming around. He even groans dramatically and rolls his eyes when she jokingly suggests Romulus if it’s a boy. He even starts to laugh again so she lets herself pretend she can’t feel the unspoken words that are stretching tighter and tighter in the air around them.
Then they go to Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Then the ministry falls and Scrimgeor dies and it all goes to hell. When they finally make it home from the burrow she’s dead on her feet. She lets him pick her up and carry her upstairs to pajamas and a soft bed and she falls asleep so fast that she doesn’t notice when he leaves the room.
It can’t be more then a few hours later when she wakes up and finds herself alone in the bed. And she knows. They have reached the breaking point at last. She lies there in the darkness, her heart pounding in her chest. A small crash and a muffled curse drift up the stairs from the entry hall. She scrambles out of bed, grabs her robe off the foot of it and hurries toward the stairs. He’s standing at the bottom. The only light is what’s left of the fire in the kitchen off to the left. He’s knocked over the umbrella stand and is busy stuffing umbrellas and miscellaneous junk back into the brass cylinder. His traveling cloak lies in a dark pool at his feet.
She takes a breath and begins her descent.
“Oh, didn’t I warn you? Clumsiness is contagious. Sorry.” She stops on the last stair and watches as he straightens up slowly and turns to her.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He’s not quite looking her in the eye, instead focusing on somewhere just behind her left ear.
“I was already awake. It’s lonely up there.” He nods, and the muscles in his throat convulse slightly. She wonders what words he’s just swallowed back down. “Where are you going?”
“Grimmauld Place. After that I’m not sure.”
Someone is sucking all the air out of the room.
“Alright. I’ll go change.”
He takes a step towards her that she’s pretty sure is involuntary.
“No.” His voice is as soft as she’s ever heard it, but there’s an edge to it that’s so sharp it practically glitters in the semidarkness. She moves down the final step so that they stand less than three feet apart.
“I’m coming with you.”
He sighs and bends down to collect his cloak.
“We’ve been through this Dora.”
“No we haven’t. You walking out that door never even entered the conversation.”
Her hands are shaking. She stuffs them angrily into the pockets of her terrycloth robe, refusing to betray herself to him, this man that she vowed never to have secrets from, this man she loves. She thought they’d gotten past this. They had gotten past this in those early morning hours after Dumbledore's death. They had shouted and argued and then cried and clung to each other in the light of the rising sun. She thought that had been then end of it. She thought they had chosen to move on. But then, she thinks bitterly, the choice has never really been in her hands.
“You’re going to your parent’s house tomorrow.” He says as if this were just another conversation on their travel plans.
“We were going together.”
He drops he cloak back to the floor and moves as if to reach for her but seems to think better of it half way through so he ends up performing an odd one shouldered shrug.
“Dora, please. I need-“ He turns his head away.
“What? What Remus? Help me understand what is happening here.”
“Nothing. It’s….just Order business. You should go back to bed.” He’s not looking at her; he’s watching the fire die in the grate.
“Don’t lie to me Remus.” She’s terribly cold. It’s the first time he’s ever tried to.
He jerks his head around to look her in the eye for the first time. There is anger in his face.
“I am going to help Harry. That is the most importing thing now. You of all people should understand that!
“Maybe I would if I believed this really had anything to do with Harry!” She doesn’t mean to say it, but slips past her lips before she can stop it. His features harden, his breath hitching in his chest.
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Why is that Remus? Could it possibly be because you never talk to me anymore?” She waits for the retort but it doesn’t come, he just bends down and scoops up his cloak with unnecessary force and reaches for the front door. She takes another step toward him.
“So you were going to walk away. Just like that, no goodbye, no explanations, I was just going to come down to breakfast and find you’d slunk away in the middle of the night?”
He falters slightly and gestures toward the side table next to the door.
“I left a letter.”
Anger is oozing up the back of her throat, a slow burning craw. She thinks she might be sick. Instead she crosses to the table in two long strides and picks up the parchment envelope.
“This letter?” She rips it into halves, fourths “This letter Remus?” Into eights. “THIS LETTER?” She throws it at his face as hard as she can and realizes she is crying.
“Nymphadora I’ve never been much of an orator.”
“No, but you’re turning out to be a pretty good coward aren’t you?”
He freezes and she knows she’s crossed a line, but she’s too terrified to care. She’s loosing him even as the last shreds of paper flutter to the floor.
He actually advances toward her this time his face full of a fury that she’s never seen there before.
“This is for you! It was never going to work Dora! We were never going to be accepted. And neither will the child!”
“That doesn’t matter! Its never mattered!”
He reaches her and grabs her shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin.
“Of course it matters! It’s the only thing that matters! If I am part of your lives you will always be persecuted no matter where you go. Why can’t you understand that?” He shakes her slightly and she twists her hands into the front of his robes, ready to shake back.
“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”
“THEN YOU”RE A FOOL!”
The silence that falls between them is crushing her to death. She feels like she’s been slapped. She steps backwards, wrenching herself out of his grip. His face is white and there are tears gleaming in his eyes.
“Dora.” Another step backwards and this time he steps forward with her, one hand reaching. She shakes her head and the hand drops again.
“No, you’re right Remus. I have been foolish.” Her voice is calm, her eyes suddenly dry. She pulls her robe more tightly around her. “Please reset the security charms on your way out.” She turns her back on him and climbs slowly up the stairs.
“Dora!” She doesn’t stop until she reaches the darkness of the landing. She stands there gripping the banister in icy hands and listening. After a long moment the door opens…and closes. And then there is nothing. Nothing. Nothing. She leans against the wall and slides down, coming to rest on the top step. Curling her arms around her waist she sits and waits for the dawn to come.
Title: Once Upon A Time Isn't Happily Ever After (1/2)
Pairing: R/T
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers through DH chapter 11, oh and ANGST!! :)
Summery: Remus walks away.
A/N: HolyMoly did I have a hard time with this...really. I think I struggled with these four pages more that just about anything else I've ever written. Please let me know if it feels right will you?
She lies awake at night and listens to the stillness in the bedroom and knows he’s not asleep. He hasn’t been sleeping well for ages. Not since…well not since they learned about the baby. That beautiful surprise that should have been the crowning jewel of their happiness. With every day that passes, even as her awareness of the life within her grows, he moves a little further away. They go through the motions; maybe he thinks he’s got her fooled. They kiss good morning, they chat over coffee, and when they get home in the evenings they drink tea and watch the fire like they’ve done so many times before. He even puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer.
She’s never felt so alone in her life.
She tells herself its nerves. They’d never expected to be facing parenthood so early. Had certainly never planned on bringing a child into this uncertain time, but that was neither here nor there now. The thing was done and he just needed time to adjust. He just needs time.
They start talking about names and she thinks he’s coming around. He even groans dramatically and rolls his eyes when she jokingly suggests Romulus if it’s a boy. He even starts to laugh again so she lets herself pretend she can’t feel the unspoken words that are stretching tighter and tighter in the air around them.
Then they go to Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Then the ministry falls and Scrimgeor dies and it all goes to hell. When they finally make it home from the burrow she’s dead on her feet. She lets him pick her up and carry her upstairs to pajamas and a soft bed and she falls asleep so fast that she doesn’t notice when he leaves the room.
It can’t be more then a few hours later when she wakes up and finds herself alone in the bed. And she knows. They have reached the breaking point at last. She lies there in the darkness, her heart pounding in her chest. A small crash and a muffled curse drift up the stairs from the entry hall. She scrambles out of bed, grabs her robe off the foot of it and hurries toward the stairs. He’s standing at the bottom. The only light is what’s left of the fire in the kitchen off to the left. He’s knocked over the umbrella stand and is busy stuffing umbrellas and miscellaneous junk back into the brass cylinder. His traveling cloak lies in a dark pool at his feet.
She takes a breath and begins her descent.
“Oh, didn’t I warn you? Clumsiness is contagious. Sorry.” She stops on the last stair and watches as he straightens up slowly and turns to her.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He’s not quite looking her in the eye, instead focusing on somewhere just behind her left ear.
“I was already awake. It’s lonely up there.” He nods, and the muscles in his throat convulse slightly. She wonders what words he’s just swallowed back down. “Where are you going?”
“Grimmauld Place. After that I’m not sure.”
Someone is sucking all the air out of the room.
“Alright. I’ll go change.”
He takes a step towards her that she’s pretty sure is involuntary.
“No.” His voice is as soft as she’s ever heard it, but there’s an edge to it that’s so sharp it practically glitters in the semidarkness. She moves down the final step so that they stand less than three feet apart.
“I’m coming with you.”
He sighs and bends down to collect his cloak.
“We’ve been through this Dora.”
“No we haven’t. You walking out that door never even entered the conversation.”
Her hands are shaking. She stuffs them angrily into the pockets of her terrycloth robe, refusing to betray herself to him, this man that she vowed never to have secrets from, this man she loves. She thought they’d gotten past this. They had gotten past this in those early morning hours after Dumbledore's death. They had shouted and argued and then cried and clung to each other in the light of the rising sun. She thought that had been then end of it. She thought they had chosen to move on. But then, she thinks bitterly, the choice has never really been in her hands.
“You’re going to your parent’s house tomorrow.” He says as if this were just another conversation on their travel plans.
“We were going together.”
He drops he cloak back to the floor and moves as if to reach for her but seems to think better of it half way through so he ends up performing an odd one shouldered shrug.
“Dora, please. I need-“ He turns his head away.
“What? What Remus? Help me understand what is happening here.”
“Nothing. It’s….just Order business. You should go back to bed.” He’s not looking at her; he’s watching the fire die in the grate.
“Don’t lie to me Remus.” She’s terribly cold. It’s the first time he’s ever tried to.
He jerks his head around to look her in the eye for the first time. There is anger in his face.
“I am going to help Harry. That is the most importing thing now. You of all people should understand that!
“Maybe I would if I believed this really had anything to do with Harry!” She doesn’t mean to say it, but slips past her lips before she can stop it. His features harden, his breath hitching in his chest.
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Why is that Remus? Could it possibly be because you never talk to me anymore?” She waits for the retort but it doesn’t come, he just bends down and scoops up his cloak with unnecessary force and reaches for the front door. She takes another step toward him.
“So you were going to walk away. Just like that, no goodbye, no explanations, I was just going to come down to breakfast and find you’d slunk away in the middle of the night?”
He falters slightly and gestures toward the side table next to the door.
“I left a letter.”
Anger is oozing up the back of her throat, a slow burning craw. She thinks she might be sick. Instead she crosses to the table in two long strides and picks up the parchment envelope.
“This letter?” She rips it into halves, fourths “This letter Remus?” Into eights. “THIS LETTER?” She throws it at his face as hard as she can and realizes she is crying.
“Nymphadora I’ve never been much of an orator.”
“No, but you’re turning out to be a pretty good coward aren’t you?”
He freezes and she knows she’s crossed a line, but she’s too terrified to care. She’s loosing him even as the last shreds of paper flutter to the floor.
He actually advances toward her this time his face full of a fury that she’s never seen there before.
“This is for you! It was never going to work Dora! We were never going to be accepted. And neither will the child!”
“That doesn’t matter! Its never mattered!”
He reaches her and grabs her shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin.
“Of course it matters! It’s the only thing that matters! If I am part of your lives you will always be persecuted no matter where you go. Why can’t you understand that?” He shakes her slightly and she twists her hands into the front of his robes, ready to shake back.
“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”
“THEN YOU”RE A FOOL!”
The silence that falls between them is crushing her to death. She feels like she’s been slapped. She steps backwards, wrenching herself out of his grip. His face is white and there are tears gleaming in his eyes.
“Dora.” Another step backwards and this time he steps forward with her, one hand reaching. She shakes her head and the hand drops again.
“No, you’re right Remus. I have been foolish.” Her voice is calm, her eyes suddenly dry. She pulls her robe more tightly around her. “Please reset the security charms on your way out.” She turns her back on him and climbs slowly up the stairs.
“Dora!” She doesn’t stop until she reaches the darkness of the landing. She stands there gripping the banister in icy hands and listening. After a long moment the door opens…and closes. And then there is nothing. Nothing. Nothing. She leans against the wall and slides down, coming to rest on the top step. Curling her arms around her waist she sits and waits for the dawn to come.