FIC: Do Wizards Dream of Magical Sheep? 10/? (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. :)
~*~
He wasn't quite awake the next morning, huddled stiff and cold in front of the door, when a knock forced him to open his eyes. For a moment, he couldn't figure out why he was even on the floor, not when there was a semi-comfortable bed in this room and a very comfortable one in the next, one that might have a nice, warm Remus in it.
Just thinking his name made memory surged to the front and Sirius jerked up, leaning hard against the door, his heart pounding. A tremor went through the wood as the knock repeated itself, gently.
"Sirius?" Softly, muffled through the door. Remus didn't try to open the door and for that much, Sirius was grateful. A battle of wills over a doorknob was not something he wanted to try today but that didn't mean he wouldn't do it.
"Sirius?" Still gently, barely louder as if Remus didn't really want to wake him, only that he should.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Remus not to call him that, to let it go. Underneath the narrow bed, he could see the crumpled edge of a magazine peeking out and he tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling with dry eyes. Dumbledore was dead, no matter who his murderer was, and dead was dead. Unless it was something worse, Sirius couldn’t help but think and whether Remus called him Sirius or not, he could never think of himself as what he was supposed to be.
In the end he didn't say anything, only leaned harder against the door in case Remus tried to come in.
He didn't. "Sirius, I'm leaving. I need to help with…with the funeral."
"So go," Sirius told him, wearily. Anything to get him to leave. For all that he'd spent the past few weeks waiting for the very minute Remus stepped through the fireplace, today all he wanted was for him to be gone. "I doubt I'm invited. I'm sure they prefer that the Boy Who Lived remains that way during the eulogy."
"I'll be back tonight."
"Fine."
He listened to the soft huff of air from the fireplace to tell him that Remus had flooed out before uncurling his limbs and staggering to his feet. The quiet gloom of hallway was like a shroud around him, following him into the tiny kitchen where two plates waited, untouched.
Beneath the lid was bangers and mash, just as he'd had the first morning he'd awoken here. He stared at them a long moment, waves of steam wavering in the air above them like ghostly fingers. In the end, he set the cover back over them with all the gentleness of a person setting down a child and went instead to the sitting room. There was a wooden chair in one corner, always eschewed by those who came to the sitting room to actually sit yet today, it beckoned him. There were ghosts sitting in all the other chairs, memory ghosts with little substance that haunted him nonetheless.
Remus sitting on the sofa with a book in his lap, his legs tucked under him in an almost unconscious gesture of trying to keep warm in this chilly room. Dumbledore next to him, with his glasses sliding down his nose and a warm smile on his face, sipping tea and nibbling biscuits and his words of wisdom were valued like pearls yet dug beneath the skin like nettles.
Sirius closed his stinging eyes and let his head rest on the hard wooden chair back. A thousand memories that had faded from him over the years to eerie phantoms and he was left with so little.
The sound of the floo startled him and he sat up so quickly his spine crackled. It was far, far too early for Remus to be back unless he'd forgotten something. Or unless he'd lied, hoping to pull Sirius from his room without a struggle between slats of wood.
Harsh words already blistering on his tongue and he could believe it of Remus, words that he would almost certainly regret begging to be spoken.
And died away when the cloaked figure that stepped from the fireplace was not Remus. Ash sloughed away from fine material as they stepped out onto the rug in front of the hearth, shaking back the hood and allowing a swath of fine black hair to fall free.
Once, she had been beautiful, as lovely as she was coldly poisonous. Sirius remembered it in the way he remembered his own handsomeness, each bled away by dementors over so many years. There was a shadow of it left to her, dark eyes regarding him coolly and Sirius knew he should move; the part of him deep within where Padfoot lay was more than willing to leap to the fore, to take the blood it had been forced to crave from this throat.
Yet somehow he couldn't, his limbs as wooden as his chair. Barely, he could whisper, a single word escaping.
"Bella."
She smiled, "My dear cousin, it's been so long. We never did see each other in Azkaban, did we? And your cell was so very close to mine. I used to delight in listening to you scream. I trust you did the same?"
"Bella," he whispered again, trying to force more words free. "Bella…how…?"
"How did I get here for this little visit?" She waved one elegant hand in a lazy gesture. "Oh, Severus was kind enough to inform us of your whereabouts some time ago. Unfortunately there was little I could do with the information until that old fool was finally out of the way." She stepped closer, set one hand on the back of the chair on either side of his head and leaned in to whisper. "I've been waiting so long to have you again. It's terribly cruel to separate a pet and his owner, don't you think?"
"You…you…couldn't…have…" he gritted out,
Bellatrix trailed a sharp fingernail down his face, freeing a single drop of blood. "But he could. And my dark lord is generous with those loyal to him."
Flash of memory, pain, God, never pain like this, never in the world. High-pitched laughter, a curtain, swirling blackness, and pain, searing across him, a brutal lava flow of agony raking over his nerves, stop please, stop so much stop
He gagged with the force of it, bile rising in his throat and only fear that he would choke on it kept him from spitting it in her face. Red lips so close to his own curved in a smile as though she knew exactly what he was thinking.
"So you do remember," Bella said thoughtfully. She sprawled herself in his lap as though he were merely another piece of furniture, tapping a long, lacquered nail against her teeth. "I thought you might. A memory charm is only as useful as the strength of the charm against the memory. We couldn't risk using a stronger charm or you might not have known where to go at all!" She tipped her head back in a soft laugh, leaning in to whisper. "And we couldn't have that."
Sirius closed his eyes, longing for the ability to wrap his hands around her skinny throat.
"I must admit, it was a very clever way of concealing you. A one-connection floo; it must have been insanely difficult to set this up, all just for you. Well, it's a two connection floo now, I could hardly go to Dumbledore's office to see you, now could I?"
A sharp slap jerked his head to one side, and then another, another until he finally opened his eyes to glare mutely at her. There was a light in her eyes, cruel delight as she stroked her cheeks over his reddened cheeks.
"I only need you to do one small thing for me," she breathed, her lips brushing the bruised heat of his face. "Just this one little thing and then you can return to us. I'm sure that Severus will be delighted to see you, on your knees…"
No. He struggled inwardly against his stillness, fingers flexing into claws that he couldn't manage to use.
"I'm sure you'd protest how much you'd despise it," she went on sweetly. "If you could, but we both know that's not true. If you can stand to be fucked by a werewolf, I'd imagine there's little you wouldn't allow. I'd say it was a flaw in the spell, but then, we both know that Sirius was flawed from birth."
The glitter in her eyes reflected the truth in her nature. "Sirius was a fool. They locked him away like they locked you away for things that you have never done." Her laughter was sweet as oleander, delicate venom. "It wasn't until he was dead that they even considered clearing his name."
His shock must have shown on his face because she laughed again. "Didn't they tell you? How very precious. I suppose they didn't want you to know. If you could walk out of here, you could go straight to their little Ministry and have them begging your pardon. They'd probably give you a medal, perhaps a small stipend, do you think? For your pain and suffering?"
"So very little reward for so much suffered," Bella said, her voice filled with syrupy pity. "I shouldn't worry. Our Lord is a generous one and his rewards can be beyond measuring."
"Don't…don't…you…" Pained bursts of language sputtered out of Sirius, evil little bitch…
Bella laughed again and the force of her hand against his cheek was dizzying. "Do be quiet. As I was saying, rewards. Dumbledore believed that my Dark Lord didn't understand love. Such a fool. He understands it, very well. He knows exactly how easy it is to break someone when you've killed those they love the most."
Her expression shifted and she slipped back to her feet, shaking out her robes briskly. "Now, to the task I'm setting for you. Remus Lupin, isn't it? A traitor to his kind, both werewolf and wizarding. I want him to die," she told him, gleefully. "And I want it to hurt. I want that filthy halfblood's skin crackling on my fire."
"Won't this hurt the boy?" She clasped her hands together like a delighted child. "Won't he weep? Of course, this is a favour to Greyback as well. Werewolves will not kill each other but if another were to do it…"
"Whore," he breathed. Pain exploded along the side of his face, a burst of blood in his mouth from a split lip. For just that moment he glimpsed the truth that was Bellatrix, eyes wild and if his sanity was questionable then hers had been long since lost. She caught his hair in a fist, yanking his head up until his pained eyes met hers.
"That's not really why I want it done," Her voice was low and cold. "If I had my way, I'd use Cruciatus on you until you bled from the eyes," and Sirius flinched as her tongue slipped along his lips, licking away the soft trickles of blood. "But this will do."
She stepped back again, tilting her head to the side as she regarded him. "But how rude of me. I have a present for you, darling."
With two fingers she drew a wand from the folds of her cloak, laying it precisely across his knees. "Remember, I want it to hurt. I do so look forward to seeing it later in the pensieve."
She blew him a kiss as she stepped into the fireplace, vanishing in the rising flames and the moment she was gone he collapsed to the floor, wetness stinging his already too-hot cheeks.
~*~
end part 10
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. :)
~*~
He wasn't quite awake the next morning, huddled stiff and cold in front of the door, when a knock forced him to open his eyes. For a moment, he couldn't figure out why he was even on the floor, not when there was a semi-comfortable bed in this room and a very comfortable one in the next, one that might have a nice, warm Remus in it.
Just thinking his name made memory surged to the front and Sirius jerked up, leaning hard against the door, his heart pounding. A tremor went through the wood as the knock repeated itself, gently.
"Sirius?" Softly, muffled through the door. Remus didn't try to open the door and for that much, Sirius was grateful. A battle of wills over a doorknob was not something he wanted to try today but that didn't mean he wouldn't do it.
"Sirius?" Still gently, barely louder as if Remus didn't really want to wake him, only that he should.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Remus not to call him that, to let it go. Underneath the narrow bed, he could see the crumpled edge of a magazine peeking out and he tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling with dry eyes. Dumbledore was dead, no matter who his murderer was, and dead was dead. Unless it was something worse, Sirius couldn’t help but think and whether Remus called him Sirius or not, he could never think of himself as what he was supposed to be.
In the end he didn't say anything, only leaned harder against the door in case Remus tried to come in.
He didn't. "Sirius, I'm leaving. I need to help with…with the funeral."
"So go," Sirius told him, wearily. Anything to get him to leave. For all that he'd spent the past few weeks waiting for the very minute Remus stepped through the fireplace, today all he wanted was for him to be gone. "I doubt I'm invited. I'm sure they prefer that the Boy Who Lived remains that way during the eulogy."
"I'll be back tonight."
"Fine."
He listened to the soft huff of air from the fireplace to tell him that Remus had flooed out before uncurling his limbs and staggering to his feet. The quiet gloom of hallway was like a shroud around him, following him into the tiny kitchen where two plates waited, untouched.
Beneath the lid was bangers and mash, just as he'd had the first morning he'd awoken here. He stared at them a long moment, waves of steam wavering in the air above them like ghostly fingers. In the end, he set the cover back over them with all the gentleness of a person setting down a child and went instead to the sitting room. There was a wooden chair in one corner, always eschewed by those who came to the sitting room to actually sit yet today, it beckoned him. There were ghosts sitting in all the other chairs, memory ghosts with little substance that haunted him nonetheless.
Remus sitting on the sofa with a book in his lap, his legs tucked under him in an almost unconscious gesture of trying to keep warm in this chilly room. Dumbledore next to him, with his glasses sliding down his nose and a warm smile on his face, sipping tea and nibbling biscuits and his words of wisdom were valued like pearls yet dug beneath the skin like nettles.
Sirius closed his stinging eyes and let his head rest on the hard wooden chair back. A thousand memories that had faded from him over the years to eerie phantoms and he was left with so little.
The sound of the floo startled him and he sat up so quickly his spine crackled. It was far, far too early for Remus to be back unless he'd forgotten something. Or unless he'd lied, hoping to pull Sirius from his room without a struggle between slats of wood.
Harsh words already blistering on his tongue and he could believe it of Remus, words that he would almost certainly regret begging to be spoken.
And died away when the cloaked figure that stepped from the fireplace was not Remus. Ash sloughed away from fine material as they stepped out onto the rug in front of the hearth, shaking back the hood and allowing a swath of fine black hair to fall free.
Once, she had been beautiful, as lovely as she was coldly poisonous. Sirius remembered it in the way he remembered his own handsomeness, each bled away by dementors over so many years. There was a shadow of it left to her, dark eyes regarding him coolly and Sirius knew he should move; the part of him deep within where Padfoot lay was more than willing to leap to the fore, to take the blood it had been forced to crave from this throat.
Yet somehow he couldn't, his limbs as wooden as his chair. Barely, he could whisper, a single word escaping.
"Bella."
She smiled, "My dear cousin, it's been so long. We never did see each other in Azkaban, did we? And your cell was so very close to mine. I used to delight in listening to you scream. I trust you did the same?"
"Bella," he whispered again, trying to force more words free. "Bella…how…?"
"How did I get here for this little visit?" She waved one elegant hand in a lazy gesture. "Oh, Severus was kind enough to inform us of your whereabouts some time ago. Unfortunately there was little I could do with the information until that old fool was finally out of the way." She stepped closer, set one hand on the back of the chair on either side of his head and leaned in to whisper. "I've been waiting so long to have you again. It's terribly cruel to separate a pet and his owner, don't you think?"
"You…you…couldn't…have…" he gritted out,
Bellatrix trailed a sharp fingernail down his face, freeing a single drop of blood. "But he could. And my dark lord is generous with those loyal to him."
Flash of memory, pain, God, never pain like this, never in the world. High-pitched laughter, a curtain, swirling blackness, and pain, searing across him, a brutal lava flow of agony raking over his nerves, stop please, stop so much stop
He gagged with the force of it, bile rising in his throat and only fear that he would choke on it kept him from spitting it in her face. Red lips so close to his own curved in a smile as though she knew exactly what he was thinking.
"So you do remember," Bella said thoughtfully. She sprawled herself in his lap as though he were merely another piece of furniture, tapping a long, lacquered nail against her teeth. "I thought you might. A memory charm is only as useful as the strength of the charm against the memory. We couldn't risk using a stronger charm or you might not have known where to go at all!" She tipped her head back in a soft laugh, leaning in to whisper. "And we couldn't have that."
Sirius closed his eyes, longing for the ability to wrap his hands around her skinny throat.
"I must admit, it was a very clever way of concealing you. A one-connection floo; it must have been insanely difficult to set this up, all just for you. Well, it's a two connection floo now, I could hardly go to Dumbledore's office to see you, now could I?"
A sharp slap jerked his head to one side, and then another, another until he finally opened his eyes to glare mutely at her. There was a light in her eyes, cruel delight as she stroked her cheeks over his reddened cheeks.
"I only need you to do one small thing for me," she breathed, her lips brushing the bruised heat of his face. "Just this one little thing and then you can return to us. I'm sure that Severus will be delighted to see you, on your knees…"
No. He struggled inwardly against his stillness, fingers flexing into claws that he couldn't manage to use.
"I'm sure you'd protest how much you'd despise it," she went on sweetly. "If you could, but we both know that's not true. If you can stand to be fucked by a werewolf, I'd imagine there's little you wouldn't allow. I'd say it was a flaw in the spell, but then, we both know that Sirius was flawed from birth."
The glitter in her eyes reflected the truth in her nature. "Sirius was a fool. They locked him away like they locked you away for things that you have never done." Her laughter was sweet as oleander, delicate venom. "It wasn't until he was dead that they even considered clearing his name."
His shock must have shown on his face because she laughed again. "Didn't they tell you? How very precious. I suppose they didn't want you to know. If you could walk out of here, you could go straight to their little Ministry and have them begging your pardon. They'd probably give you a medal, perhaps a small stipend, do you think? For your pain and suffering?"
"So very little reward for so much suffered," Bella said, her voice filled with syrupy pity. "I shouldn't worry. Our Lord is a generous one and his rewards can be beyond measuring."
"Don't…don't…you…" Pained bursts of language sputtered out of Sirius, evil little bitch…
Bella laughed again and the force of her hand against his cheek was dizzying. "Do be quiet. As I was saying, rewards. Dumbledore believed that my Dark Lord didn't understand love. Such a fool. He understands it, very well. He knows exactly how easy it is to break someone when you've killed those they love the most."
Her expression shifted and she slipped back to her feet, shaking out her robes briskly. "Now, to the task I'm setting for you. Remus Lupin, isn't it? A traitor to his kind, both werewolf and wizarding. I want him to die," she told him, gleefully. "And I want it to hurt. I want that filthy halfblood's skin crackling on my fire."
"Won't this hurt the boy?" She clasped her hands together like a delighted child. "Won't he weep? Of course, this is a favour to Greyback as well. Werewolves will not kill each other but if another were to do it…"
"Whore," he breathed. Pain exploded along the side of his face, a burst of blood in his mouth from a split lip. For just that moment he glimpsed the truth that was Bellatrix, eyes wild and if his sanity was questionable then hers had been long since lost. She caught his hair in a fist, yanking his head up until his pained eyes met hers.
"That's not really why I want it done," Her voice was low and cold. "If I had my way, I'd use Cruciatus on you until you bled from the eyes," and Sirius flinched as her tongue slipped along his lips, licking away the soft trickles of blood. "But this will do."
She stepped back again, tilting her head to the side as she regarded him. "But how rude of me. I have a present for you, darling."
With two fingers she drew a wand from the folds of her cloak, laying it precisely across his knees. "Remember, I want it to hurt. I do so look forward to seeing it later in the pensieve."
She blew him a kiss as she stepped into the fireplace, vanishing in the rising flames and the moment she was gone he collapsed to the floor, wetness stinging his already too-hot cheeks.
~*~
end part 10