Oh! my first contrelamontre challenge
Title: Walking by the woods on a snowy winter’s evening…
Author: Scheherazade uchidachi
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: G
Warnings: Implied slash
Spoilers: PoA
DISCLAIMER: The character(s) portrayed herein are the sole intelectual property of J.K. Rowling. This is completely not-for-profit.
Challenge: No Dialogue
Time: 25 minutes in all.
Synopsis: During Harry's 3rd year, over winter break, Remus takes a walk.
The utter quiet of the forest sometimes astounded him. How could such a place, home to thousands of monsters and their prey, be silent now?
There were sounds, of course, because it had been snowing for days on end, and the branches overhead occasionally let a clump of snow fall, with a dull thud, into the drifts below. Remus waded through these drifts that reached up to his thighs, leaving two erratic lines behind him. The other marks in the snow… small cloven indentations for the deer that, like Prongs, could balance on the icy crust… There were large holes where the Centaurs had walked, and sprays of crystals where they’d ran… there, too, were trails that cut wide and long, made by a man barreling through on all fours. Remus shivered, they were the Weremen, those who lost their minds to the moon and ran as wolves through all its phases.
Remus was tracking a man, but not these. His eyes searched for the tracks, two narrow gouges, and the sweep of robes, like his. Only these would not begin outside of the woods, in fact, they would seem to come from nowhere, starting in one place and ending another, with no where to go. He tried tracking the big black dog before, but, between Fang and the Werves, his prints were lost.
Remus tried not to think of his purpose. He deluded himself into thinking he was just looking for evidence of his friend. He tried not to think of following the tracks, as long as he could, until they led him to the source. Led him to kill the source. At the thought of blood, something painful twisted within him, he had to stop in his tracks. No, it wasn’t the thought of blood, it was the thought of his blood. The thought of him, Sirius, bleeding, at Remus’ hand, triggered that inside him. The natural urge of all men to not go insane combined with the command of his very nature, “do not hurt him.”
Werewolves have, before, killed their mates. But only on the full moon.
Author: Scheherazade uchidachi
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: G
Warnings: Implied slash
Spoilers: PoA
DISCLAIMER: The character(s) portrayed herein are the sole intelectual property of J.K. Rowling. This is completely not-for-profit.
Challenge: No Dialogue
Time: 25 minutes in all.
Synopsis: During Harry's 3rd year, over winter break, Remus takes a walk.
The utter quiet of the forest sometimes astounded him. How could such a place, home to thousands of monsters and their prey, be silent now?
There were sounds, of course, because it had been snowing for days on end, and the branches overhead occasionally let a clump of snow fall, with a dull thud, into the drifts below. Remus waded through these drifts that reached up to his thighs, leaving two erratic lines behind him. The other marks in the snow… small cloven indentations for the deer that, like Prongs, could balance on the icy crust… There were large holes where the Centaurs had walked, and sprays of crystals where they’d ran… there, too, were trails that cut wide and long, made by a man barreling through on all fours. Remus shivered, they were the Weremen, those who lost their minds to the moon and ran as wolves through all its phases.
Remus was tracking a man, but not these. His eyes searched for the tracks, two narrow gouges, and the sweep of robes, like his. Only these would not begin outside of the woods, in fact, they would seem to come from nowhere, starting in one place and ending another, with no where to go. He tried tracking the big black dog before, but, between Fang and the Werves, his prints were lost.
Remus tried not to think of his purpose. He deluded himself into thinking he was just looking for evidence of his friend. He tried not to think of following the tracks, as long as he could, until they led him to the source. Led him to kill the source. At the thought of blood, something painful twisted within him, he had to stop in his tracks. No, it wasn’t the thought of blood, it was the thought of his blood. The thought of him, Sirius, bleeding, at Remus’ hand, triggered that inside him. The natural urge of all men to not go insane combined with the command of his very nature, “do not hurt him.”
Werewolves have, before, killed their mates. But only on the full moon.