Harry Potter -- Scarves n Hats -- Day 31 -- "The Boy Who Loves You"
scarvesnhats
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prompt for Day 31
Day 31 | The Boy Who Loves You | 31 October 1998, post-second war | PG | 882 words
Remus lay in bed and watched the snow fall softly against the window, hands curled around a cup of tea he lacked the strength to spell warm again. The snow itself was odd, falling on Halloween and actually sticking to the ground. Six months had passed since Voldemort's defeat, but world was still recovering, wizarding, Muggle, and natural, it appeared.
The war had been devastating on both sides. In the final battle, it was only the fact that more Order members than Death Eaters were standing that decided the outcome in their favor. Most of the champions for both sides were dead, or severely injured. The spell that killed Voldemort in the end, after the systematic destruction of the Horcruxes, killed the caster as well.
It made perfect sense, to Remus at least, that the greatest war in the modern wizarding age wouldn't have clear lines of victory and defeat or a Chosen One to stand victorious at the battle's end. Harry had given his life to save both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, but depressingly little had changed. Anti-Muggle sentiment was just as strong among Purebloods as it had been before the war, it was just better hidden. The Ministry was just as incompetent when it came to dealing with ex-Death Eaters and then families of victims as it had been after the last war, and Remus was just as alone.
If anything, it was worse this time than last. Remus was older now, and the years had been far from kind. He'd become dependent on the Wolfsbane potion to get through each month's changes but had no access to it; Snape, an enigma to the very end, had died in the final battle and Hermione, who had brewed it for Remus the year Snape was in hiding, had died in Ron's arms in a bed in St. Mungo's. As many witches and wizards had died in that first 24 hours after the battle as in the battle itself, as Remus had been unable to get near a healer. By the time things had calmed down, Remus had fled back into the shadows, and none of the survivors had gone looking for him. Just like last time.
Remus had gotten off light, in comparison to the rest of the Order, but he'd taken injuries as well. The cuts and bruises had been minor, healed in a matter of days by the healing power that came with lycanthropy. But the spell that had knocked Remus to the ground, had kept him from helping Kingsley or Tonks or the twins, had damaged his heart, and six months of transformations stretching the muscles had only exacerbated the problem.
"You always did think too much," a voice said, pulling Remus out of his reverie and his eyes away from the silent snow. "Merlin's beard, Moony, I go away for a few years, and look at the trouble you get yourself into."
"Sirius," Remus breathed, tears forming in his eyes. "You're back. What took you so bloody long?"
"Not exactly," Sirius said with a sad smile, sitting on the edge of Remus' tiny bed. He lifted a hand to the light and only then did Remus notice that Sirius was a pearly grey, his hand translucent in the low light.
"Oh," Remus said. He started to say something else but Sirius stopped him, resting an insubstantial finger against Remus' lips. He could feel a light tingle where Sirius would have been touching him, but nothing more.
"I can't stay long," Sirius said. He looked younger, less painfully gaunt than he'd been after Azkaban. Falling through the Veil seemed to have taken off the Azkaban years entirely, and if Remus squinted he could almost believe he was looking at Sirius circa 1978, dressed in Muggle jeans and a smile, hair wind-tossed from having just gotten off the motorbike. Then his heart gave a rather nasty twinge and he was pulled back to the present. "I wanted to come see you before..."
"Before what?" Remus prompted when Sirius did not continue but Sirius shook his head. "Pads..."
"Soon enough," Sirius said, scooting up the bed so he was pressed against Remus' side. His back and hip protruded through the wall, but he didn't seem to mind. He settled his head on Remus' shoulder, hovering just above it. Remus lost track how long they sat that way, watching the snow fall past the window and accumulate on the sill. Remus hadn't felt as content in years, even though he couldn't feel Sirius against his side and at times the pain made it difficult to breathe.
"It's time," Sirius said suddenly, after what could have been minutes or hours. He dropped a kiss the werewolf couldn't feel on Remus' lips and slid off the bed. Sirius held out a hand and Remus took it, allowing Sirius to pull him up and away from the husk of his body. He stood and looked down at himself for a moment, taking in the totally grey hair and gaunt frame. He hadn't realized quite how old he looked. "Let's go."
Remus could feel Sirius' hand on his now, and shift their grip so their fingers tangled. This time when Sirius kissed him Remus could feel it, and Sirius tasted of Hogwarts toffee apples.
Feedback is better than chocolate.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30
prompt for Day 31
Day 31 | The Boy Who Loves You | 31 October 1998, post-second war | PG | 882 words
Remus lay in bed and watched the snow fall softly against the window, hands curled around a cup of tea he lacked the strength to spell warm again. The snow itself was odd, falling on Halloween and actually sticking to the ground. Six months had passed since Voldemort's defeat, but world was still recovering, wizarding, Muggle, and natural, it appeared.
The war had been devastating on both sides. In the final battle, it was only the fact that more Order members than Death Eaters were standing that decided the outcome in their favor. Most of the champions for both sides were dead, or severely injured. The spell that killed Voldemort in the end, after the systematic destruction of the Horcruxes, killed the caster as well.
It made perfect sense, to Remus at least, that the greatest war in the modern wizarding age wouldn't have clear lines of victory and defeat or a Chosen One to stand victorious at the battle's end. Harry had given his life to save both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, but depressingly little had changed. Anti-Muggle sentiment was just as strong among Purebloods as it had been before the war, it was just better hidden. The Ministry was just as incompetent when it came to dealing with ex-Death Eaters and then families of victims as it had been after the last war, and Remus was just as alone.
If anything, it was worse this time than last. Remus was older now, and the years had been far from kind. He'd become dependent on the Wolfsbane potion to get through each month's changes but had no access to it; Snape, an enigma to the very end, had died in the final battle and Hermione, who had brewed it for Remus the year Snape was in hiding, had died in Ron's arms in a bed in St. Mungo's. As many witches and wizards had died in that first 24 hours after the battle as in the battle itself, as Remus had been unable to get near a healer. By the time things had calmed down, Remus had fled back into the shadows, and none of the survivors had gone looking for him. Just like last time.
Remus had gotten off light, in comparison to the rest of the Order, but he'd taken injuries as well. The cuts and bruises had been minor, healed in a matter of days by the healing power that came with lycanthropy. But the spell that had knocked Remus to the ground, had kept him from helping Kingsley or Tonks or the twins, had damaged his heart, and six months of transformations stretching the muscles had only exacerbated the problem.
"You always did think too much," a voice said, pulling Remus out of his reverie and his eyes away from the silent snow. "Merlin's beard, Moony, I go away for a few years, and look at the trouble you get yourself into."
"Sirius," Remus breathed, tears forming in his eyes. "You're back. What took you so bloody long?"
"Not exactly," Sirius said with a sad smile, sitting on the edge of Remus' tiny bed. He lifted a hand to the light and only then did Remus notice that Sirius was a pearly grey, his hand translucent in the low light.
"Oh," Remus said. He started to say something else but Sirius stopped him, resting an insubstantial finger against Remus' lips. He could feel a light tingle where Sirius would have been touching him, but nothing more.
"I can't stay long," Sirius said. He looked younger, less painfully gaunt than he'd been after Azkaban. Falling through the Veil seemed to have taken off the Azkaban years entirely, and if Remus squinted he could almost believe he was looking at Sirius circa 1978, dressed in Muggle jeans and a smile, hair wind-tossed from having just gotten off the motorbike. Then his heart gave a rather nasty twinge and he was pulled back to the present. "I wanted to come see you before..."
"Before what?" Remus prompted when Sirius did not continue but Sirius shook his head. "Pads..."
"Soon enough," Sirius said, scooting up the bed so he was pressed against Remus' side. His back and hip protruded through the wall, but he didn't seem to mind. He settled his head on Remus' shoulder, hovering just above it. Remus lost track how long they sat that way, watching the snow fall past the window and accumulate on the sill. Remus hadn't felt as content in years, even though he couldn't feel Sirius against his side and at times the pain made it difficult to breathe.
"It's time," Sirius said suddenly, after what could have been minutes or hours. He dropped a kiss the werewolf couldn't feel on Remus' lips and slid off the bed. Sirius held out a hand and Remus took it, allowing Sirius to pull him up and away from the husk of his body. He stood and looked down at himself for a moment, taking in the totally grey hair and gaunt frame. He hadn't realized quite how old he looked. "Let's go."
Remus could feel Sirius' hand on his now, and shift their grip so their fingers tangled. This time when Sirius kissed him Remus could feel it, and Sirius tasted of Hogwarts toffee apples.
Feedback is better than chocolate.