(no subject)
Title: The Truth Will Set You Free
Character: Remus, Moody, Tonks
Ratings: G
Length: 889 words, not including quotation
Summary: In the night after Dumbledore's death, there is much for Remus to consider and accept.
Notes
I think in the future when I give my fics to my Sekrit Intarweb Lover for betaing, I'm going to call it the Rough Wooing. That is my History Geekage for today. But damn, some comments were harsh! *cries*
Anyway, here it is, for Xylodemon's The I Didn't Get To Go To TWH Ficlet-a-thon
. Written for jeddy83, who wanted Remus/Moody: Truth
I woudn't mind sitting on this for a few days and polishing it up. It kinda went places with Remus that I'm interested in.
No words suffice the secret soul to show,
For truth denies all eloquence to woe. - Lord Byron
It felt like the night would never end.
Tonks was holding on to his hand, as though afraid that he’d disappear. It felt like a weight on his mind, something easier to concentrate on than Albus dead, than Seve-Snape a traitor. Easier to feel a dull sense of anger at this young girl who felt that someone’s deathbed was a good time to bring up their issues. That Molly could be more concerned about his romantic liasons than about her son, scarred and scared in a bed too small for his adult frame.
He didn’t say any of this. Tonks was a child, in so many ways, and taking one’s anger out on a child was not an appropriate thing. And, he felt, most of his anger, his disquiet, was not directed at her, or Molly, but at the body now lying someplace in Hogwarts.
“Is there anything I can get you?” she said. They were standing in his too-small flat in Edinburgh. She had been here before, when they were new and he thought he could escape his own past by being with her. She instinctively moved towards the kitchen, but before she could get away, he shook his head.
“No, no, I think… you’ll be needed at the Ministry, and I need some time to think, to digest all of this.”
“Of course,” she said, a bit too quickly, and the flash of pink in her hair began to fade again. “I know this is a bit rushed-“
“I’ve known Albus for most of my live, Nymphadora. I need some time to mourn.”
“Oh.” She looked solemn, and he suppressed a sigh.
“Go, be with the Aurors, be with your family. I’ll be here, and we’ll talk in the morning. I promise.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I always keep my promises. You know that.”
She smiled suddenly, and squeezed his hands. “Thank you, Remus. Thank you for being willing to take a chance on us again.”
She stepped towards the fireplace, and flooed back to the Ministry, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Tea. A hot cup of tea would make things… not better. Things were never going to get better. But at least help warm up the coldness inside of him. He walked into the kitchen and tapped the kettle with a mummered word.
He was certain he wouldn’t be alone long.
The floo flared up again and a familiar voice growled from behind him. “If you keep it open like that, anyone could get in, boy.”
“Good evening, Alastor. I’d remind you that I haven’t been a boy in some time, but I suspect you don’t need the reminder.”
He could feel the other’s displeasure, but chose to ignore it, pouring tea in a cup for himself, knowing better than to pour a second up. Not even with him would Moody relax his vigilence.
“I heard, about you and young Tonks.”
“Yes, I suppose you would have. Did Molly tell you, or was it someone else?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’d like to know what you’re thinking, or if this is just some way of escaping Albus’ death.” Remus still didn’t look at him, instead focusing on the tea as he heard Moody walking slowly and painfully across the floor to join him at the table. “You know this isn’t who you are.”
“We all wear masks, Alastar. I just have to wear more of them. I have to be more civilized, because I’m a werewolf. I have to constantly be aware of how others will interpret my moods. I have to wear a mask, to keep them comfortable, and even then, they still doubt me. Even the Order. Even my friends. It will always taint me, it will always make me different. Why make my otherness even greater than it has to be?”
“Because it’s only an act.” Moody’s magic eye constantly moved around the room, looking everywhere, while his good eye kept a watch on Remus. “We both know that you don’t love her, that you can’t love her, because you don’t love like that.”
“I can’t be your lover, Alastor. Not publically. Not without becoming a complete pariah, and taking you with me. I wouldn’t do that before, what makes you think I will now? This is… this is easier.”
Moody’s eye stopped staring around the room, and instead focused entirely on Remus. “I never thought you were the type to take the easy way out. But I’ve been wrong before.” He stood up, painfully, and Remus could see what the night, what his choice, had done. Moody looked more tired than Remus had ever known him to be, in all the long years of their relationship. “I hope this is a way for you to find happiness, but happiness usually only comes from the truth.”
“I’d rather a happy lie than a truth that will destroy everything that’s left.”
Moody nodded, and stepped towards the floo.
Remus closed his eyes, and wondered what it would be like to be brave enough. Brave enough to stand up for what he thought, what he wanted, instead of choosing what everyone else wanted. He pictured a world where he took what he wanted, because it was okay for him to do so.
But before he could say anything, Alastor was gone.
Character: Remus, Moody, Tonks
Ratings: G
Length: 889 words, not including quotation
Summary: In the night after Dumbledore's death, there is much for Remus to consider and accept.
Notes
I think in the future when I give my fics to my Sekrit Intarweb Lover for betaing, I'm going to call it the Rough Wooing. That is my History Geekage for today. But damn, some comments were harsh! *cries*
Anyway, here it is, for Xylodemon's The I Didn't Get To Go To TWH Ficlet-a-thon
. Written for jeddy83, who wanted Remus/Moody: Truth
I woudn't mind sitting on this for a few days and polishing it up. It kinda went places with Remus that I'm interested in.
No words suffice the secret soul to show,
For truth denies all eloquence to woe. - Lord Byron
It felt like the night would never end.
Tonks was holding on to his hand, as though afraid that he’d disappear. It felt like a weight on his mind, something easier to concentrate on than Albus dead, than Seve-Snape a traitor. Easier to feel a dull sense of anger at this young girl who felt that someone’s deathbed was a good time to bring up their issues. That Molly could be more concerned about his romantic liasons than about her son, scarred and scared in a bed too small for his adult frame.
He didn’t say any of this. Tonks was a child, in so many ways, and taking one’s anger out on a child was not an appropriate thing. And, he felt, most of his anger, his disquiet, was not directed at her, or Molly, but at the body now lying someplace in Hogwarts.
“Is there anything I can get you?” she said. They were standing in his too-small flat in Edinburgh. She had been here before, when they were new and he thought he could escape his own past by being with her. She instinctively moved towards the kitchen, but before she could get away, he shook his head.
“No, no, I think… you’ll be needed at the Ministry, and I need some time to think, to digest all of this.”
“Of course,” she said, a bit too quickly, and the flash of pink in her hair began to fade again. “I know this is a bit rushed-“
“I’ve known Albus for most of my live, Nymphadora. I need some time to mourn.”
“Oh.” She looked solemn, and he suppressed a sigh.
“Go, be with the Aurors, be with your family. I’ll be here, and we’ll talk in the morning. I promise.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I always keep my promises. You know that.”
She smiled suddenly, and squeezed his hands. “Thank you, Remus. Thank you for being willing to take a chance on us again.”
She stepped towards the fireplace, and flooed back to the Ministry, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Tea. A hot cup of tea would make things… not better. Things were never going to get better. But at least help warm up the coldness inside of him. He walked into the kitchen and tapped the kettle with a mummered word.
He was certain he wouldn’t be alone long.
The floo flared up again and a familiar voice growled from behind him. “If you keep it open like that, anyone could get in, boy.”
“Good evening, Alastor. I’d remind you that I haven’t been a boy in some time, but I suspect you don’t need the reminder.”
He could feel the other’s displeasure, but chose to ignore it, pouring tea in a cup for himself, knowing better than to pour a second up. Not even with him would Moody relax his vigilence.
“I heard, about you and young Tonks.”
“Yes, I suppose you would have. Did Molly tell you, or was it someone else?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’d like to know what you’re thinking, or if this is just some way of escaping Albus’ death.” Remus still didn’t look at him, instead focusing on the tea as he heard Moody walking slowly and painfully across the floor to join him at the table. “You know this isn’t who you are.”
“We all wear masks, Alastar. I just have to wear more of them. I have to be more civilized, because I’m a werewolf. I have to constantly be aware of how others will interpret my moods. I have to wear a mask, to keep them comfortable, and even then, they still doubt me. Even the Order. Even my friends. It will always taint me, it will always make me different. Why make my otherness even greater than it has to be?”
“Because it’s only an act.” Moody’s magic eye constantly moved around the room, looking everywhere, while his good eye kept a watch on Remus. “We both know that you don’t love her, that you can’t love her, because you don’t love like that.”
“I can’t be your lover, Alastor. Not publically. Not without becoming a complete pariah, and taking you with me. I wouldn’t do that before, what makes you think I will now? This is… this is easier.”
Moody’s eye stopped staring around the room, and instead focused entirely on Remus. “I never thought you were the type to take the easy way out. But I’ve been wrong before.” He stood up, painfully, and Remus could see what the night, what his choice, had done. Moody looked more tired than Remus had ever known him to be, in all the long years of their relationship. “I hope this is a way for you to find happiness, but happiness usually only comes from the truth.”
“I’d rather a happy lie than a truth that will destroy everything that’s left.”
Moody nodded, and stepped towards the floo.
Remus closed his eyes, and wondered what it would be like to be brave enough. Brave enough to stand up for what he thought, what he wanted, instead of choosing what everyone else wanted. He pictured a world where he took what he wanted, because it was okay for him to do so.
But before he could say anything, Alastor was gone.