Day 8: Tonight
Title: Tonight
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: barefootboys Day 8
Word Count: 922
Summary: In a war without end, it’s hard to say you’ll survive…
Author’s Note: I was originally planning to do this one a bit differently…but this is how it popped out. I’d really like to play with it and extend it at a later date. Also! If you can think of a better title to this fic, pleasepleasplease...I am all ears!
Warnings: No BETA!; DH Spoilers!; Character death
1| 2| 3| 4| 5| 6| 7| 8| 9| 10| 11| 12| 13
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Dolohov had that wicked glimmer in his eye that was born of true evil. For a split moment, Remus mistook it for the glimmer he’d often seen in Sirius’s eyes before a prank. His memory took hold of him for just a moment too long and then there was a last flash of green.
Everything went dark.
--
He couldn’t believe it any more than Harry could. They both stared in shock as Sirius fell backwards, his empty visage slipping away.
Then the world was again swept up in turmoil, the Department of Mysteries illuminated with flashes of light and shouts of hexes. Remus grabbed hold of Harry, pulling him back. The screams in his throat burned like firewhiskey, but he let Harry make the pained sounds for him. Focus was the key. One man down.
One man down, their man down. As he restrained Harry, Remus had to struggle to restrain himself. The fight must continue and there was too much danger in the moment to fall apart.
--
“Do you think we’ll live to see an end to the fighting?” Sirius grew more morbid with each passing, lonely day cooped up in his parents’ house. Remus exhaled slowly, eyes flickering back to the book held between them.
Even the warmth of the fire could not fight off the chill of his lover’s memories. Azkaban poisoned him. Remus’s lonely past had done much the same.
“Don’t talk like that. You know that we might not make it. We might survive, we might die.” Remus spoke quietly, his voice softening with impressions of the lost and dead.
“You’ll make it, Moony.” It sounded too much like a promise for Remus’s tastes. He tapped the picture on the next page in the album. Smiling faces waved to them.
“Remember that day? Just after you’d arrived at my house…just after He returned.” The sweet, old woman who lived next door to Remus’s small cottage had obliged them with her camera. Sirius still looked so thin and vacant…but the grin on his face…
--
“Ready dears?” Mrs. Herbertshire asked, looking at the two genial men, holding up her camera.
“We’re ready, I think, yeah?” Remus turned to his friend, newly returned to him. Sirius grinned back. A bright flash shook them out of the gaze and they both turned to look at the woman.
“We weren’t looking at the camera!” Sirius said, laughing.
“I think it’ll do.” The elderly woman smiled knowingly. She suspected that these two men had been the best of friends for many years. She could recall Remus as a boy telling her about all his friends at school. Maybe this man, Sirius, had been one of them.
--
Remus never got to see Harry before he was handed over to that nasty woman Petunia and her fat husband. Surely, godfather or not, he would have been a much better choice.
He sighed, looking down his tepid cup of tea. No, Dumbledore was right. A werewolf could not make a good foster parent, no matter how gentle and even-tempered he was the other twenty-nine days of the month. Remus knew better.
Sirius. He remembered that last morning before…well, before Sirius had destroyed everything. They’d slept late and laid in bed until noon. Then he had to go. Sirius said he would be home late, very late.
He couldn’t tell Remus what he was up to, which was quickly becoming commonplace. Remus hated all the secrets. He could not tell Sirius about the werewolves and his other missions. They would alternately be gone for weeks at a time.
Sirius couldn’t have been a Death Eater. Remus would have known. How could he not? He’d seen, touched, tasted every inch of the man’s skin. How could he miss something as obvious as the Dark Mark? That vulgar tattoo would have stuck out. He looked down at the Werewolf Registry number tattooed on his wrist.
He growled and kicked his way up from the chair, the teacup flying across the kitchen and shattering against the tiles. Remus grabbed at the table with both hands, screaming as he shoved and kicked and pushed. HOW could this happen? HOW could Sirius be the traitor? He shouted and screamed until his throat was sore, his voice hoarse. He did not stop until the kitchen was in shambles. Remus would not-could not-accept this.
He collapsed against a yellow wall, slipping to the floor as he pressed the heels of his hands into his face. His whole body convulsed.
--
“I have to go.” Sirius slipped out of bed, reaching for a pair of pants and then grabbed his trousers.
Remus watched him, still half-covered beneath the blankets. “Another mission?” He hated that his voice sound so accusative.
Sirius turned back, his face dark and uncomfortable. “After tonight, everything will be different. Everything will be okay. We are going to be okay after tonight.”
He climbed back up onto the bed, straddling Remus on all fours. Their faces were nearly pressed together. It made Remus go cross-eyed trying to look up at him. “You don’t know. We might die before tomorrow. We could die next week. This looks like a war without end.”
Sirius tilted his head and pressed their lips together. He smelled of sweat and wet dog hair and coffee. Remus closed his eyes, inhaling as much of that scent as he could manage. In his gut, a bad feeling swilled about uncomfortably.
“I promise you, Moony. We’re going to live to see the end of this war.”
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: barefootboys Day 8
Word Count: 922
Summary: In a war without end, it’s hard to say you’ll survive…
Author’s Note: I was originally planning to do this one a bit differently…but this is how it popped out. I’d really like to play with it and extend it at a later date. Also! If you can think of a better title to this fic, pleasepleasplease...I am all ears!
Warnings: No BETA!; DH Spoilers!; Character death
1| 2| 3| 4| 5| 6| 7| 8| 9| 10| 11| 12| 13
-------------------------
Dolohov had that wicked glimmer in his eye that was born of true evil. For a split moment, Remus mistook it for the glimmer he’d often seen in Sirius’s eyes before a prank. His memory took hold of him for just a moment too long and then there was a last flash of green.
Everything went dark.
--
He couldn’t believe it any more than Harry could. They both stared in shock as Sirius fell backwards, his empty visage slipping away.
Then the world was again swept up in turmoil, the Department of Mysteries illuminated with flashes of light and shouts of hexes. Remus grabbed hold of Harry, pulling him back. The screams in his throat burned like firewhiskey, but he let Harry make the pained sounds for him. Focus was the key. One man down.
One man down, their man down. As he restrained Harry, Remus had to struggle to restrain himself. The fight must continue and there was too much danger in the moment to fall apart.
--
“Do you think we’ll live to see an end to the fighting?” Sirius grew more morbid with each passing, lonely day cooped up in his parents’ house. Remus exhaled slowly, eyes flickering back to the book held between them.
Even the warmth of the fire could not fight off the chill of his lover’s memories. Azkaban poisoned him. Remus’s lonely past had done much the same.
“Don’t talk like that. You know that we might not make it. We might survive, we might die.” Remus spoke quietly, his voice softening with impressions of the lost and dead.
“You’ll make it, Moony.” It sounded too much like a promise for Remus’s tastes. He tapped the picture on the next page in the album. Smiling faces waved to them.
“Remember that day? Just after you’d arrived at my house…just after He returned.” The sweet, old woman who lived next door to Remus’s small cottage had obliged them with her camera. Sirius still looked so thin and vacant…but the grin on his face…
--
“Ready dears?” Mrs. Herbertshire asked, looking at the two genial men, holding up her camera.
“We’re ready, I think, yeah?” Remus turned to his friend, newly returned to him. Sirius grinned back. A bright flash shook them out of the gaze and they both turned to look at the woman.
“We weren’t looking at the camera!” Sirius said, laughing.
“I think it’ll do.” The elderly woman smiled knowingly. She suspected that these two men had been the best of friends for many years. She could recall Remus as a boy telling her about all his friends at school. Maybe this man, Sirius, had been one of them.
--
Remus never got to see Harry before he was handed over to that nasty woman Petunia and her fat husband. Surely, godfather or not, he would have been a much better choice.
He sighed, looking down his tepid cup of tea. No, Dumbledore was right. A werewolf could not make a good foster parent, no matter how gentle and even-tempered he was the other twenty-nine days of the month. Remus knew better.
Sirius. He remembered that last morning before…well, before Sirius had destroyed everything. They’d slept late and laid in bed until noon. Then he had to go. Sirius said he would be home late, very late.
He couldn’t tell Remus what he was up to, which was quickly becoming commonplace. Remus hated all the secrets. He could not tell Sirius about the werewolves and his other missions. They would alternately be gone for weeks at a time.
Sirius couldn’t have been a Death Eater. Remus would have known. How could he not? He’d seen, touched, tasted every inch of the man’s skin. How could he miss something as obvious as the Dark Mark? That vulgar tattoo would have stuck out. He looked down at the Werewolf Registry number tattooed on his wrist.
He growled and kicked his way up from the chair, the teacup flying across the kitchen and shattering against the tiles. Remus grabbed at the table with both hands, screaming as he shoved and kicked and pushed. HOW could this happen? HOW could Sirius be the traitor? He shouted and screamed until his throat was sore, his voice hoarse. He did not stop until the kitchen was in shambles. Remus would not-could not-accept this.
He collapsed against a yellow wall, slipping to the floor as he pressed the heels of his hands into his face. His whole body convulsed.
--
“I have to go.” Sirius slipped out of bed, reaching for a pair of pants and then grabbed his trousers.
Remus watched him, still half-covered beneath the blankets. “Another mission?” He hated that his voice sound so accusative.
Sirius turned back, his face dark and uncomfortable. “After tonight, everything will be different. Everything will be okay. We are going to be okay after tonight.”
He climbed back up onto the bed, straddling Remus on all fours. Their faces were nearly pressed together. It made Remus go cross-eyed trying to look up at him. “You don’t know. We might die before tomorrow. We could die next week. This looks like a war without end.”
Sirius tilted his head and pressed their lips together. He smelled of sweat and wet dog hair and coffee. Remus closed his eyes, inhaling as much of that scent as he could manage. In his gut, a bad feeling swilled about uncomfortably.
“I promise you, Moony. We’re going to live to see the end of this war.”