Coming of the Morning
Title: Coming of the Morning
Author: kanella
Disclaimer: Not Mine
Word Count: 556
Rating: PG
Summary: Remus comes into some new possessions.
Notes: blanketforts Day 6 (Prompt)
Remus walks three strides to the tiny kitchenette, holds the large cardboard box over the table, and unceremoniously flips it upside-down. The items inside cascade out of the box, crashing and clanking against one another. It takes a moment for everything to settle into place on the table - more than a few things fall to the ground - and Remus surveys his new possessions.
We have what we need. Here are the rest of his things.
To a stranger, most of the things are impersonal trifles - a red lighter, a chipped teacup, several quills, a scarf - but to Remus they are intimate reminders of a life before, the manic clicking of the lighter when Sirius couldn’t figure out the crossword, the way the wool of the scarf tickled his cheek when Sirius leaned over his sleeping form for a kiss before leaving for work -
No. I don’t want them. I don’t want them.
The rooms above the Hog’s Head are grungy and old, but they also each contain a Floo-connected fireplace. Remus looks to the small dish of powder resting on the mantle; after a moment of deliberation, Remus grabs the teacup, walks to the fireplace, and scoops up a small amount of Floo powder. He sprinkles it into the cup and takes several steps back, rearing his arm and hurling the cup into the fireplace with a grunt. It shatters against the bricks and erupts in a burst of green flame, igniting the dark room with an eerie emerald glow. Remus peers inside the fireplace. No broken pieces.
But you have to take it. There’s no one else.
He moves quickly now, desperately grabbing things off the table and somehow getting a few grains of Floo powder into each of them. He throws them into the fireplace, one by one, and they disappear, flying off randomly through the Floo Network, popping back out God-knows-where. It would be faster with his wand, but the physicality is satisfying. He has wanted to scream and cry and drown himself in the bath for three days now, but he can’t do any of those things so he settles with the throwing. He imagines lobbing the lighter at Sirius’s head, pulling the ends of the scarf taut so that Sirius’s lips go cold on top of his, and there is so much hate in him, but so much love, too, that his heart twists and his chest constricts with each flare from the fireplace.
The Ministry of Magic would like to apologize for your losses.
When he is done, Remus collapses on the floor in a rumpled heap, gasping and pulling at his hair. His shirt has come untucked and the muscles in his right arm seize and cramp. His upper lip is covered in sweat, and he catches some of the wetness with his tongue.
Good night, Mr. Lupin.
The heat radiating from Remus’s body slowly dissipates and a thick chill settles in as the night goes on. His heart quiets to a soft woosh, woosh and his breathing evens out. His eyes flick to the empty table, to the window and the stars outside, to the richly patterned ceiling. He follows the design with his eyes and calmly waits the coming of the morning, whose sunlight will touch him and warm him as the hands of others once did.