Let the Moon Shine Ne'er So Bright
A/N: So, it's been a while...I've lately discovered the joy that is Marauders Era fics and so I thought I would try and write one myself. It is rather reflective and whimsical, which is my favourite sort of fic to write, so I hope you enjoy it:-) The opening quote is one which has inspired me before, with my Twilight one-shot "No More A-Roving". Speaking of, for any of my Twilight readers, I have entirely lost inspiration as I am no longer remotely interested in Twilight, so I am afraid my story "To the Rhythm of the Ocean's Tides" will be remaining a one-shot. That is all. Enjoy!
Let the Moon Shine Ne'er So Bright
So we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
We'll go no more a-roving, boys,
Let the moon shine ne'er so bright.
~ James V of Scotland ~
It was not often that the Forbidden Forest was thought of with anything less than reverence and fear. After all, it was not exactly the poster child for lovely, peaceful walks in the woods. Its trees could not be described with lyrical, dreamy phrases even by the most euphemistic poet. If it was thought of at all, it was thought of as, well, forbidding. On this night however, there was at least one living being in the world who thought of it with a piercing wistfulness. Not so much because of the forest itself, per se, but because of what it represented. Because it was a cut-off point, a boundary, that separated the world of the living and happy from the world of those who were not. And this being, whilst desperately longing to belong to the former, felt irrevocably doomed to the latter.
Sirius Black stood within the first line of trees, hidden by the dark network of hanging branches, and peered out at the large castle in the distance. Rain dripped from the twigs and leaves above him and splashed gently and repetitively on his nose and head. His fur was getting wetter by the minute but he could not be bothered to care. The castle lights were dimmed for the night and the primary illumination was provided by the moon overhead which was just peeking through the cloud cover, fat and full. A wolf howled mournfully and Sirius' ears pricked, then flattened again as the memories flooded in.
"So, what's the plan for tonight, guys?" Peter looked expectant and eager. James and Sirius never failed to come up with something exciting and daring for their monthly expeditions.
Sirius and James exchanged mischief-filled glances. "Well Wormtail, I don't know that we should tell you…." Sirius drawled.
"Yeah," James cut in, "We wouldn't want to ruin the surprise…"
"And you know what they say about how good a little bit of suspense is…" Sirius continued.
"Gets the blood pumping and all. Great for the digestive system."
Remus quirked an eyebrow at James' last comment. James had the grace to blush slightly. "What? It's what my grandmother always used to say when I wanted to open my Christmas presents early!"
"Aw, come on, guys!" Peter interjected, bringing the digression to a halt. "Just tell me already! I'm going to combust here!"
"Big words, Wormtail, big words…" Sirius smirked. "Well, I suppose we could tell you…"
Peter leaned in eagerly, an expression of intense excitement on his face, as James pulled out the Marauders' Map and tapped it with his wand, muttering "I solemnly declare I am up to no good." Sirius looked on loftily, the gleam in his eyes the only thing to betray his anticipation.
The present Sirius' eyes were also gleaming, but not with anticipation. If it were possible for a dog to cry, he would. But as it was, his eyes just shone that little bit brighter, burning with an internal fire. They said that Azkaban made you forget everything but your worst memories, your greatest fears. And in some ways that was true. But whenever Sirius had taken on his dog form and become Padfoot again, he had been able to relive those years at Hogwarts, with Prongs and Moony and Wormtail. Which was a kind of torture in itself. Because how could he not have seen? And why had they ever included him? But Peter had not been a Death Eater then. He had been their friend; a wide-eyed, chubby, bumbling little kid who worshipped in their shadows, and if he was honest with himself he had liked it. It had stroked his ego, which despite all appearances to the contrary was not all that sturdy, and it had made him feel big and strong and invincible. Until he was shown not to be. Until a dark night when, strong wizard that he was, he fell on his knees and wept over the broken bodies of his best friends. Until a dark day when he was thwarted by the little boy who used to worship him, and was dragged away to rot in hell.
But despite the torture that was reliving these memories over and over and over, there was also a sweetness to it, a poignancy, which he had clung to in his darkest moments. Because for those few seconds or minutes or hours, he could be young again, at Hogwarts again, with James again. No longer weeping, weeping, weeping, over James' dead body, but laughing with him, planning with him, adventuring with him, seeing life in those forever-dulled hazel eyes once more.
Sitting here in the rain, staring out at the castle, cut off from the place that had once been his domain, brought it home like nothing else could. This world was Sirius' world no longer. James was gone. Peter was a traitor. And somewhere out there another lonely Marauder roamed, howling his sorrows to the night. There would be no more laughter, no more planning, no more adventures. The Marauders would never again sneak out on moonlit nights and take to the grounds. That was past. Sirius sighed and turned his back on the castle and his memories, shaking out his now drenched fur. Now was no time for wishful thinking. Now was a time for action. Now was the present. And Sirius had a rat to kill.
The End
A/N: Feedback is always appreciated:-)
Let the Moon Shine Ne'er So Bright
So we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
We'll go no more a-roving, boys,
Let the moon shine ne'er so bright.
~ James V of Scotland ~
It was not often that the Forbidden Forest was thought of with anything less than reverence and fear. After all, it was not exactly the poster child for lovely, peaceful walks in the woods. Its trees could not be described with lyrical, dreamy phrases even by the most euphemistic poet. If it was thought of at all, it was thought of as, well, forbidding. On this night however, there was at least one living being in the world who thought of it with a piercing wistfulness. Not so much because of the forest itself, per se, but because of what it represented. Because it was a cut-off point, a boundary, that separated the world of the living and happy from the world of those who were not. And this being, whilst desperately longing to belong to the former, felt irrevocably doomed to the latter.
Sirius Black stood within the first line of trees, hidden by the dark network of hanging branches, and peered out at the large castle in the distance. Rain dripped from the twigs and leaves above him and splashed gently and repetitively on his nose and head. His fur was getting wetter by the minute but he could not be bothered to care. The castle lights were dimmed for the night and the primary illumination was provided by the moon overhead which was just peeking through the cloud cover, fat and full. A wolf howled mournfully and Sirius' ears pricked, then flattened again as the memories flooded in.
"So, what's the plan for tonight, guys?" Peter looked expectant and eager. James and Sirius never failed to come up with something exciting and daring for their monthly expeditions.
Sirius and James exchanged mischief-filled glances. "Well Wormtail, I don't know that we should tell you…." Sirius drawled.
"Yeah," James cut in, "We wouldn't want to ruin the surprise…"
"And you know what they say about how good a little bit of suspense is…" Sirius continued.
"Gets the blood pumping and all. Great for the digestive system."
Remus quirked an eyebrow at James' last comment. James had the grace to blush slightly. "What? It's what my grandmother always used to say when I wanted to open my Christmas presents early!"
"Aw, come on, guys!" Peter interjected, bringing the digression to a halt. "Just tell me already! I'm going to combust here!"
"Big words, Wormtail, big words…" Sirius smirked. "Well, I suppose we could tell you…"
Peter leaned in eagerly, an expression of intense excitement on his face, as James pulled out the Marauders' Map and tapped it with his wand, muttering "I solemnly declare I am up to no good." Sirius looked on loftily, the gleam in his eyes the only thing to betray his anticipation.
The present Sirius' eyes were also gleaming, but not with anticipation. If it were possible for a dog to cry, he would. But as it was, his eyes just shone that little bit brighter, burning with an internal fire. They said that Azkaban made you forget everything but your worst memories, your greatest fears. And in some ways that was true. But whenever Sirius had taken on his dog form and become Padfoot again, he had been able to relive those years at Hogwarts, with Prongs and Moony and Wormtail. Which was a kind of torture in itself. Because how could he not have seen? And why had they ever included him? But Peter had not been a Death Eater then. He had been their friend; a wide-eyed, chubby, bumbling little kid who worshipped in their shadows, and if he was honest with himself he had liked it. It had stroked his ego, which despite all appearances to the contrary was not all that sturdy, and it had made him feel big and strong and invincible. Until he was shown not to be. Until a dark night when, strong wizard that he was, he fell on his knees and wept over the broken bodies of his best friends. Until a dark day when he was thwarted by the little boy who used to worship him, and was dragged away to rot in hell.
But despite the torture that was reliving these memories over and over and over, there was also a sweetness to it, a poignancy, which he had clung to in his darkest moments. Because for those few seconds or minutes or hours, he could be young again, at Hogwarts again, with James again. No longer weeping, weeping, weeping, over James' dead body, but laughing with him, planning with him, adventuring with him, seeing life in those forever-dulled hazel eyes once more.
Sitting here in the rain, staring out at the castle, cut off from the place that had once been his domain, brought it home like nothing else could. This world was Sirius' world no longer. James was gone. Peter was a traitor. And somewhere out there another lonely Marauder roamed, howling his sorrows to the night. There would be no more laughter, no more planning, no more adventures. The Marauders would never again sneak out on moonlit nights and take to the grounds. That was past. Sirius sighed and turned his back on the castle and his memories, shaking out his now drenched fur. Now was no time for wishful thinking. Now was a time for action. Now was the present. And Sirius had a rat to kill.
The End
A/N: Feedback is always appreciated:-)