Fic: HP, (rl/sb, rl/omc, rl/nt, &c.), drabble, "He is alone in his bed."
Title: "He is alone in his bed."
Word Count: 322
Author: whitmans_kiss
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst, implied sex
Characters; Pairings: Remus Lupin; Remus/Sirius, Remus/OMCs, Remus/Max Krause (OMC), Remus/Tonks
Disclaimer: All characters property of JKRowling. Story is original and mine.
Author's Notes: For toujours_nigel, the author of this beautiful drabble, which got the creative bones in me tingling and provided inspiration. Also, because she is fantastic. Takes place in the Lollyverse.
------------
He is alone in his bed, and it is silent in his room.
He can hear them all; the steady whuffles of Sirius’ breathing down the hall, the tiny mumbles of his son, the shift of quilts as Harry turns in his nightmare, the stifled whimpers as Draco finds company in himself.
There is a grandfather clock two flights below him, and he hears Lolly patter down the stairs, the habitual insomniac, probably going to dust the damn thing.
Floorboards settle and crossbeams sway, the house beating out an undulating rhythm of time and age, far more accurate and far more cruel than the clock downstairs.
Only Remus’ room is quiet, the pulse of his heart muffled by the thick blanket of guilt that constantly wraps and rewraps itself around him, suffocating and constricting, keeping him alone and his bed empty.
Once, in his bed, there were three boys, two with dark hair and one with watery eyes, whispering excitedly together over snatches of parchment and explosive plans for the morning.
Once, there was a beautiful man with grey eyes who, laughing, pulled him nearer, the rings on their fingers glinting dully in the half-moon light as hands touched and stroked and burned I-love-you onto skin.
There were others, too; other men whose names Remus doesn’t remember and one whom he does, who used to pray the rosary in fifteen decades instead of five, and Remus listened then, too, and prayed with him to a God he knew existed, but didn’t believe in.
Once, in his bed, there was a young woman pretending to be a young man, who had come upon an old man who pretended to be a young man, and the two young men kissed and wept and held each other close as all four hearts cried out loudly and were broken beyond possible repair.
But now there is no one save Remus.
He listens, and he can’t sleep.
Word Count: 322
Author: whitmans_kiss
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst, implied sex
Characters; Pairings: Remus Lupin; Remus/Sirius, Remus/OMCs, Remus/Max Krause (OMC), Remus/Tonks
Disclaimer: All characters property of JKRowling. Story is original and mine.
Author's Notes: For toujours_nigel, the author of this beautiful drabble, which got the creative bones in me tingling and provided inspiration. Also, because she is fantastic. Takes place in the Lollyverse.
------------
He is alone in his bed, and it is silent in his room.
He can hear them all; the steady whuffles of Sirius’ breathing down the hall, the tiny mumbles of his son, the shift of quilts as Harry turns in his nightmare, the stifled whimpers as Draco finds company in himself.
There is a grandfather clock two flights below him, and he hears Lolly patter down the stairs, the habitual insomniac, probably going to dust the damn thing.
Floorboards settle and crossbeams sway, the house beating out an undulating rhythm of time and age, far more accurate and far more cruel than the clock downstairs.
Only Remus’ room is quiet, the pulse of his heart muffled by the thick blanket of guilt that constantly wraps and rewraps itself around him, suffocating and constricting, keeping him alone and his bed empty.
Once, in his bed, there were three boys, two with dark hair and one with watery eyes, whispering excitedly together over snatches of parchment and explosive plans for the morning.
Once, there was a beautiful man with grey eyes who, laughing, pulled him nearer, the rings on their fingers glinting dully in the half-moon light as hands touched and stroked and burned I-love-you onto skin.
There were others, too; other men whose names Remus doesn’t remember and one whom he does, who used to pray the rosary in fifteen decades instead of five, and Remus listened then, too, and prayed with him to a God he knew existed, but didn’t believe in.
Once, in his bed, there was a young woman pretending to be a young man, who had come upon an old man who pretended to be a young man, and the two young men kissed and wept and held each other close as all four hearts cried out loudly and were broken beyond possible repair.
But now there is no one save Remus.
He listens, and he can’t sleep.