FIC: Do Wizards Dream of Magical Sheep? 3/? (WIP, Potterverse, Remus/Sirius)
Do Wizards Dream of Magical Sheep?
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Remus/Sirius
NC-17
Spoilers for all the books, up to HBP.
Summary: Set during HBP. Dead is dead, unless you're a wizard. Then things can get...complicated.
Notes: Slight modifications in time and space may have been made, altering this from the books. But if you can't tell, it's already an AU, so hey, make of that what you will.
Warnings: Hey, this is sort of dark. If you don't like dark stuff? Please dial a different number. :)
*with apologies to the writer of 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?'. Haven't read it? You should, it was the basis for the movie 'Bladerunner' and everyone knows that movie rocked.
~~*~~
"Sirius?"
He startled awake, scrambling back from the light flooding in from the open door, boots kicked aside as he tried to get back into the darkness. A hand on his arm was worse, unable to hide from that and it made him blink, looking up into the shadow of Remus Lupin's concerned face.
"Come on, now, up we go." Sirius obeyed with reluctance, stumbling to his feet and following Remus out to the kitchen. The curtains were cracked open, sunlight pouring in to fill the shabby little room to the brim with light that Sirius had to squint against.
Hands pushed him gently into a chair and he sat obediently, sipping warm tea when a cup was set into his hands.
Remus was sitting across from him, his own cup untouched in front of him.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Course," Sirius said distantly. The tea felt good on his parched throat, soothing.
"It's just…you were in the closet."
"Yeah," Sirius agreed. There was a plate of chocolate biscuits on the table and he helped himself to one, chewing absently.
"Was…did someone come here?" He could hear Remus's confusion as he struggled to understand. Nearly made him laugh but the sun coming in from the side window was lovely and warm, and Sirius tipped his head back a bit to feel it better.
"Was I hiding, do you mean?" Sirius asked finally and now he could laugh. Honestly, in the closet of all places. No wonder Remus was worried. "Yes, I was hiding, but there was no one here but me. I just wanted to…be there," he said decisively. It wasn't like any other explanation he could conjure would make any more sense.
Remus was staring at him, worry plain on his face. Well, that was fine then, everyone already thought he was mad. Might as well confirm it now and get it over with.
"I'll be here for a few days now," Remus told him slowly, like he was talking to a not-particularly-bright child.
"S'fine," Sirius mumbled, chewing on another biscuit. He finished his tea and left Remus to his own, wandering out into the sunlit sitting room to find a book he could nap over.
~*~
Remus was there for a week, all told, although the full moon fell in the middle of it and he was useless to chat with the days just before and after. He spent the night locked tight in his room, silent after the first burst of screams, the light peeking out from under the door was dim enough to be the glow from the fireplace. Sirius dragged his blanket into the hallway spent the night on the floor outside the room, more human than Remus could ever be, listening with pathetic rounded ears. Strained to hear anything, every shuffling movement of a werewolf with a human mind plodding clumsily around the room.
When he woke, his joints ached from the hard floor and there was another blanket layered over his own that smelled like dog.
It was always quiet in the flat, though, more so than Grimmauld place with its rotting curtains and rubbish, no Kreacher to ghost in from room to room and slap him again with the reminder of how he'd been hated.
Here there was only Remus and books, meals that arrived at specific hours, two plates instead of one, and tea that Remus made himself. One day, he helped Remus fold his laundry, blandly folding socks along with the freshly laundered sheets that he had seen Remus strip from his bed without so much as a glance in Sirius's direction.
A week of idle conversations and the Jane Austin oeuvre before Remus left again and Sirius was alone.
Remus was gone for four days this time. On the morning of the third day, Sirius transformed willingly for the first time since he'd arrived here and leisurely tore up every shoe in Remus's closet, the pleasant taste of leather shifting to bitter on his human tongue. He might have pissed on the bed if he hadn't taken to sleeping in it at night, warm scent of another animal keeping his nightmares from devouring him.
It wasn't like Remus seemed to care; he could hardly avoid seeing the rumpled sheets. When he stepped out of the fireplace this time, he only seemed relieved that Sirius wasn't hiding in the closet.
Two plates for lunch, whoever was sending their meals were spot on, no doubt about that. Sirius was washing the dishes by hand, since he couldn't be trusted with a knife but they had no trouble leaving him with apple-scented detergent.
Something whacked him on the back of the head, hard enough that he saw spots for a moment and splashed soapy water all down his front. Rubbing his head, he turned to see Remus was standing behind him, looking furious and holding a rolled up newspaper.
"If you're going to act like a mongrel, I have no trouble treating you like one!" Remus said savagely. Ah, seemed that he'd finally checked the closet, after all.
"I suppose my doggy nature simply got away with me," Sirius said airily. He rinsed another plate and set it in the draining rack, all but certain he could hear the sound of grinding teeth behind him. Well worth brushing the taste of rubber soles off his tongue for hours.
The newspaper was crumpled and tossed on the counter without even another slap to Sirius's head. A shame, that.
He heard a chair pulled out, the old wood creaking a protest as Remus flung himself into it. "I don't suppose it occurred to you that I can't afford to buy a half dozen pairs of new shoes."
Sirius shrugged. "Add them to the Order's accounts, they're the reason I'm here. Or take it out of my Gringotts account if you'll feel better."
"Dead men don't have Gringotts accounts," Scathingly from behind him. "Your godson inherited all your funds."
He didn't mean to drop the plate, barely heard it shatter on the old tile at his feet and his hands were wet and growing cold, soup bubbles trailing down his wrists.
He had really been dead. Not that he had doubted what the others had told him, certainly not Dumbledore except, well, hadn't he? Denial was in every glance in the mirror but this hit harder than a mere newspaper, something that was true but couldn't be true, drawing a harsh breath into lungs that weren't supposed to be breathing.
Blinked and found he was sitting, Remus crouched in front of him, anger forgotten in his concern.
"Sirius," Hesitantly, his thumbs stroking the insides of Sirius's wrists, "They'll put it all to rights once they figure this out."
"I was really dead," he whispered.
"Sirius-"
"I suppose I knew that. Ha…he would have inherited all of my things, wouldn't he? That's why I couldn't go in. I couldn't expect someone to fool the charms on Grimmauld place or…or Kreacher, and… the goblins, they-they couldn't be." Hushed voice. "I was really dead."
"You're not dead now."
"No," Softly, distantly. It was clear in his head; cobwebbed insanity might lurk in the corners of his mind but Sirius was no fool. "You don't believe that. None of you do or else I'd have a Gringotts account and someone would be trying to pull this charm off me. You think - I don't know what you think but I know what you don't think."
He was on his feet faster than his thoughts could catch up, lurching for the old brown wood of the front door, his fists beating on it, bloody by the second blow.
"Let me out! Please, you have to let me out now!"
A hand on his arm yanked him away and Sirius fought it, gagging out desperate words, begging for them to please please please let him out and Remus was shaking him, hard enough to snap his head back against the wall, a duller, thicker pain than the newspaper.
"Stop it!" Remus shouted.
"Remus," he moaned. "I have to get out. I have to."
The door was beyond his reach so he dragged his nails down his face instead, had to get out of at least one prison.
"Stop, god, Sirius! Just-" they struggled, sprawled out on the ratty old rug in the entranceway until Remus had him pinned to the floor by his wrists, using what little extra weight he had to hold Sirius down, even though he bucked desperately, had to get out of here, he had to…
"I can't stay here, Moony," Panting, oh, couldn't breathe, couldn't pull in the air. "I can't, you should just kill me."
"Sirius, don't-"
"I'm already dying here," his voice sounded like a shriek and he closed his eyes against it, against Remus's shocked face. "It's killing me piece by piece, I can't stay here anymore, please, plea--"
The mouth against his own shocked him to silence, warm, hard lips pressing his shut. Only for a moment, forcing silence, and then it was gone.
Sirius stared up at Remus through the tangle of his hair, stuttering out, "Why-I…"
Mild eyes, his hands gentling their grip on Sirius's wrists. "It calmed you down, didn't it."
True, but…
"You should just kill me," Sirius told him again, hysteria replaced with the dullness of truth. It would be better for all of them, safer for his godson, easier for Remus.
He didn't expect the slap, hard enough that he tasted coppery blood.
"Do not say that again, Sirius, I mean it." Deceptively calm. "You already died once as far as your godson is concerned and you have no idea what it did to him."
Flash of Harry in his mind and he was already growling under his breath, not even a dog, and Remus slapped him again, blood from his nose spattering the floor. "You weren't here, you didn't see what it did to him," Low and cold. "So shut your mouth and find a way to make do."
Make do. He just had to make do, that was Remus's brilliant advice. Instead, Sirius leaned up and kissed Remus again, sharing the slick flavour of his own blood. Remus made a soft noise, surprised, he thought. Licked the blood-taste from Sirius mouth, shifting and there was the faint rasp of his tongue against Sirius's unshaven face.
It dwindled away, shifting to warm breathing against his neck before Remus finally pulled away and stood, offering Sirius a hand up. He took it, followed Remus into the sitting room where they read in silence until the clock turned to an hour late enough to justify sleeping
The nightmares didn't come that night.
~*~
end part 3
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Remus/Sirius
NC-17
Spoilers for all the books, up to HBP.
Summary: Set during HBP. Dead is dead, unless you're a wizard. Then things can get...complicated.
Notes: Slight modifications in time and space may have been made, altering this from the books. But if you can't tell, it's already an AU, so hey, make of that what you will.
Warnings: Hey, this is sort of dark. If you don't like dark stuff? Please dial a different number. :)
*with apologies to the writer of 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?'. Haven't read it? You should, it was the basis for the movie 'Bladerunner' and everyone knows that movie rocked.
~~*~~
"Sirius?"
He startled awake, scrambling back from the light flooding in from the open door, boots kicked aside as he tried to get back into the darkness. A hand on his arm was worse, unable to hide from that and it made him blink, looking up into the shadow of Remus Lupin's concerned face.
"Come on, now, up we go." Sirius obeyed with reluctance, stumbling to his feet and following Remus out to the kitchen. The curtains were cracked open, sunlight pouring in to fill the shabby little room to the brim with light that Sirius had to squint against.
Hands pushed him gently into a chair and he sat obediently, sipping warm tea when a cup was set into his hands.
Remus was sitting across from him, his own cup untouched in front of him.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Course," Sirius said distantly. The tea felt good on his parched throat, soothing.
"It's just…you were in the closet."
"Yeah," Sirius agreed. There was a plate of chocolate biscuits on the table and he helped himself to one, chewing absently.
"Was…did someone come here?" He could hear Remus's confusion as he struggled to understand. Nearly made him laugh but the sun coming in from the side window was lovely and warm, and Sirius tipped his head back a bit to feel it better.
"Was I hiding, do you mean?" Sirius asked finally and now he could laugh. Honestly, in the closet of all places. No wonder Remus was worried. "Yes, I was hiding, but there was no one here but me. I just wanted to…be there," he said decisively. It wasn't like any other explanation he could conjure would make any more sense.
Remus was staring at him, worry plain on his face. Well, that was fine then, everyone already thought he was mad. Might as well confirm it now and get it over with.
"I'll be here for a few days now," Remus told him slowly, like he was talking to a not-particularly-bright child.
"S'fine," Sirius mumbled, chewing on another biscuit. He finished his tea and left Remus to his own, wandering out into the sunlit sitting room to find a book he could nap over.
~*~
Remus was there for a week, all told, although the full moon fell in the middle of it and he was useless to chat with the days just before and after. He spent the night locked tight in his room, silent after the first burst of screams, the light peeking out from under the door was dim enough to be the glow from the fireplace. Sirius dragged his blanket into the hallway spent the night on the floor outside the room, more human than Remus could ever be, listening with pathetic rounded ears. Strained to hear anything, every shuffling movement of a werewolf with a human mind plodding clumsily around the room.
When he woke, his joints ached from the hard floor and there was another blanket layered over his own that smelled like dog.
It was always quiet in the flat, though, more so than Grimmauld place with its rotting curtains and rubbish, no Kreacher to ghost in from room to room and slap him again with the reminder of how he'd been hated.
Here there was only Remus and books, meals that arrived at specific hours, two plates instead of one, and tea that Remus made himself. One day, he helped Remus fold his laundry, blandly folding socks along with the freshly laundered sheets that he had seen Remus strip from his bed without so much as a glance in Sirius's direction.
A week of idle conversations and the Jane Austin oeuvre before Remus left again and Sirius was alone.
Remus was gone for four days this time. On the morning of the third day, Sirius transformed willingly for the first time since he'd arrived here and leisurely tore up every shoe in Remus's closet, the pleasant taste of leather shifting to bitter on his human tongue. He might have pissed on the bed if he hadn't taken to sleeping in it at night, warm scent of another animal keeping his nightmares from devouring him.
It wasn't like Remus seemed to care; he could hardly avoid seeing the rumpled sheets. When he stepped out of the fireplace this time, he only seemed relieved that Sirius wasn't hiding in the closet.
Two plates for lunch, whoever was sending their meals were spot on, no doubt about that. Sirius was washing the dishes by hand, since he couldn't be trusted with a knife but they had no trouble leaving him with apple-scented detergent.
Something whacked him on the back of the head, hard enough that he saw spots for a moment and splashed soapy water all down his front. Rubbing his head, he turned to see Remus was standing behind him, looking furious and holding a rolled up newspaper.
"If you're going to act like a mongrel, I have no trouble treating you like one!" Remus said savagely. Ah, seemed that he'd finally checked the closet, after all.
"I suppose my doggy nature simply got away with me," Sirius said airily. He rinsed another plate and set it in the draining rack, all but certain he could hear the sound of grinding teeth behind him. Well worth brushing the taste of rubber soles off his tongue for hours.
The newspaper was crumpled and tossed on the counter without even another slap to Sirius's head. A shame, that.
He heard a chair pulled out, the old wood creaking a protest as Remus flung himself into it. "I don't suppose it occurred to you that I can't afford to buy a half dozen pairs of new shoes."
Sirius shrugged. "Add them to the Order's accounts, they're the reason I'm here. Or take it out of my Gringotts account if you'll feel better."
"Dead men don't have Gringotts accounts," Scathingly from behind him. "Your godson inherited all your funds."
He didn't mean to drop the plate, barely heard it shatter on the old tile at his feet and his hands were wet and growing cold, soup bubbles trailing down his wrists.
He had really been dead. Not that he had doubted what the others had told him, certainly not Dumbledore except, well, hadn't he? Denial was in every glance in the mirror but this hit harder than a mere newspaper, something that was true but couldn't be true, drawing a harsh breath into lungs that weren't supposed to be breathing.
Blinked and found he was sitting, Remus crouched in front of him, anger forgotten in his concern.
"Sirius," Hesitantly, his thumbs stroking the insides of Sirius's wrists, "They'll put it all to rights once they figure this out."
"I was really dead," he whispered.
"Sirius-"
"I suppose I knew that. Ha…he would have inherited all of my things, wouldn't he? That's why I couldn't go in. I couldn't expect someone to fool the charms on Grimmauld place or…or Kreacher, and… the goblins, they-they couldn't be." Hushed voice. "I was really dead."
"You're not dead now."
"No," Softly, distantly. It was clear in his head; cobwebbed insanity might lurk in the corners of his mind but Sirius was no fool. "You don't believe that. None of you do or else I'd have a Gringotts account and someone would be trying to pull this charm off me. You think - I don't know what you think but I know what you don't think."
He was on his feet faster than his thoughts could catch up, lurching for the old brown wood of the front door, his fists beating on it, bloody by the second blow.
"Let me out! Please, you have to let me out now!"
A hand on his arm yanked him away and Sirius fought it, gagging out desperate words, begging for them to please please please let him out and Remus was shaking him, hard enough to snap his head back against the wall, a duller, thicker pain than the newspaper.
"Stop it!" Remus shouted.
"Remus," he moaned. "I have to get out. I have to."
The door was beyond his reach so he dragged his nails down his face instead, had to get out of at least one prison.
"Stop, god, Sirius! Just-" they struggled, sprawled out on the ratty old rug in the entranceway until Remus had him pinned to the floor by his wrists, using what little extra weight he had to hold Sirius down, even though he bucked desperately, had to get out of here, he had to…
"I can't stay here, Moony," Panting, oh, couldn't breathe, couldn't pull in the air. "I can't, you should just kill me."
"Sirius, don't-"
"I'm already dying here," his voice sounded like a shriek and he closed his eyes against it, against Remus's shocked face. "It's killing me piece by piece, I can't stay here anymore, please, plea--"
The mouth against his own shocked him to silence, warm, hard lips pressing his shut. Only for a moment, forcing silence, and then it was gone.
Sirius stared up at Remus through the tangle of his hair, stuttering out, "Why-I…"
Mild eyes, his hands gentling their grip on Sirius's wrists. "It calmed you down, didn't it."
True, but…
"You should just kill me," Sirius told him again, hysteria replaced with the dullness of truth. It would be better for all of them, safer for his godson, easier for Remus.
He didn't expect the slap, hard enough that he tasted coppery blood.
"Do not say that again, Sirius, I mean it." Deceptively calm. "You already died once as far as your godson is concerned and you have no idea what it did to him."
Flash of Harry in his mind and he was already growling under his breath, not even a dog, and Remus slapped him again, blood from his nose spattering the floor. "You weren't here, you didn't see what it did to him," Low and cold. "So shut your mouth and find a way to make do."
Make do. He just had to make do, that was Remus's brilliant advice. Instead, Sirius leaned up and kissed Remus again, sharing the slick flavour of his own blood. Remus made a soft noise, surprised, he thought. Licked the blood-taste from Sirius mouth, shifting and there was the faint rasp of his tongue against Sirius's unshaven face.
It dwindled away, shifting to warm breathing against his neck before Remus finally pulled away and stood, offering Sirius a hand up. He took it, followed Remus into the sitting room where they read in silence until the clock turned to an hour late enough to justify sleeping
The nightmares didn't come that night.
~*~
end part 3