FIC: “I Don’t Dream” by paulamcg (PG)
Title: I Don’t Dream
Author: PaulaMcG
Summary: Remus Lupin pursues advanced studies of the goblin rebellions and practises not to dream.
Era: January 1983
Rating: PG
Pairing: Only a possibility to interpret as implied RL/SB.
Disclaimer: Any such character names, place names and other terms which have first appeared in the Harry Potter books, as well as any parts of the plots of those books, belong to J. K. Rowling and those who have bought the rights. The rest is mine but brings me no profit either.
Notes: This is my shortest prose piece ever: only about 700 words. I’m publishing this piece now only on my journal. We’ll see if it still needs some editing. Any comments are welcome.
I Don’t Dream
In my view the goblin rebellions were never a boring topic. I was perhaps the only pupil ever who actually engaged the ghost professor in a discussion, waking up some others, too. Not only because I was a conscientious student, just as I am still, but also because back at home I used to know those goblins - some of the rebellious type. Despite what outsiders believed, I was the one who introduced the rebellious ideas to James and Peter and…
No. I force myself to stare at the book on my desk again. I need to memorize not only all the alternative theories, but also the names of the historians who have supported them. Perfect answers in this exam will be one more merit in my qualifications and… I can still hope for a chance to work as a journalist, on free-lancer basis, perhaps.
Again no. Why do I fool myself into cherishing hope? I can’t afford such a luxury. Then again, maybe that’s all I can afford.
It’s increasingly difficult to concentrate. And I must finish reading this book tonight, as it’s due at the library tomorrow. I skim the text trying to convince myself that I know it all well enough. Having turned another page, I return my hands between my thighs and shake my whole body to generate some warmth.
Soon I realize my eyes are closing every now and then and staying closed longer and longer. Perhaps one of my hopes is not vain after all. I think I’ll be able to fall asleep, if I go to bed now and try to recall what I just read.
Pressing my left palm over the small flame and extinguishing it, I take support from the desk, so as to manage to stand up. Feeling dizzy, I stumble to the other side of the small room and fall on the couch I use as a bed. These nights are the coldest of the winter - I hope - so I’ll sleep with all my clothes on. I have already the blanket on my shoulders, but I now wrap it carefully around myself so that it covers me from socks to ears.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on the names of the historians. But my mind wanders from Professor Binns’s classroom to the Great Hall.
“You must eat more on these days… Don’t laugh, Peter! It is possible to eat even more than he eats normally - you know that.” Sirius reaches out for the sausages and deposits five on my plate.
No. You know, nowadays I consider becoming a vegetarian. No, of course you don’t know… All right, I’ll have the sausages, but don’t turn that caring gaze at me. I mustn’t look.
You know, I’m learning not to dream of food. Honestly. I don’t dream of any food I wish I could buy. Only of the food I already had. It’s as if I still had it. But I don’t have you watching over me. No, your voice is gone now. Your fingers are gone, too… those long slender fingers… There’s only the food that appeared on my plate, and I’ll be eating all night.
This is how I’ll wake up and wonder why I’m still so hungry that it hurts. But I won’t dream of finding a way to make some money. I’ll try to remember to offer to clean the hallway, so I’ll get some Knuts for bread, perhaps an apple, too… But I don’t really care. I’ll do it only so as not to faint in the exam.
I continue to enjoy the best meals I ever had. At Hogwarts and after. Remember that restaurant where I once again evaded the question? What did I want to eat? I lied, saying I wasn’t hungry. And you ordered for me this incredible pizza, with shrimps and tuna fish and a thick layer of cheese, and oregano. I can still smell it. But you are not there.
In this way I try to keep the hunger at bay, and I keep you away, too. When I focus on the food I can forget you were there, can’t I? At least if there is hope, this is the hope. I’ll forget you used to take care of me.
You are still taking care of me. But you don’t know. You are the one without hope.
Author: PaulaMcG
Summary: Remus Lupin pursues advanced studies of the goblin rebellions and practises not to dream.
Era: January 1983
Rating: PG
Pairing: Only a possibility to interpret as implied RL/SB.
Disclaimer: Any such character names, place names and other terms which have first appeared in the Harry Potter books, as well as any parts of the plots of those books, belong to J. K. Rowling and those who have bought the rights. The rest is mine but brings me no profit either.
Notes: This is my shortest prose piece ever: only about 700 words. I’m publishing this piece now only on my journal. We’ll see if it still needs some editing. Any comments are welcome.
I Don’t Dream
In my view the goblin rebellions were never a boring topic. I was perhaps the only pupil ever who actually engaged the ghost professor in a discussion, waking up some others, too. Not only because I was a conscientious student, just as I am still, but also because back at home I used to know those goblins - some of the rebellious type. Despite what outsiders believed, I was the one who introduced the rebellious ideas to James and Peter and…
No. I force myself to stare at the book on my desk again. I need to memorize not only all the alternative theories, but also the names of the historians who have supported them. Perfect answers in this exam will be one more merit in my qualifications and… I can still hope for a chance to work as a journalist, on free-lancer basis, perhaps.
Again no. Why do I fool myself into cherishing hope? I can’t afford such a luxury. Then again, maybe that’s all I can afford.
It’s increasingly difficult to concentrate. And I must finish reading this book tonight, as it’s due at the library tomorrow. I skim the text trying to convince myself that I know it all well enough. Having turned another page, I return my hands between my thighs and shake my whole body to generate some warmth.
Soon I realize my eyes are closing every now and then and staying closed longer and longer. Perhaps one of my hopes is not vain after all. I think I’ll be able to fall asleep, if I go to bed now and try to recall what I just read.
Pressing my left palm over the small flame and extinguishing it, I take support from the desk, so as to manage to stand up. Feeling dizzy, I stumble to the other side of the small room and fall on the couch I use as a bed. These nights are the coldest of the winter - I hope - so I’ll sleep with all my clothes on. I have already the blanket on my shoulders, but I now wrap it carefully around myself so that it covers me from socks to ears.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on the names of the historians. But my mind wanders from Professor Binns’s classroom to the Great Hall.
“You must eat more on these days… Don’t laugh, Peter! It is possible to eat even more than he eats normally - you know that.” Sirius reaches out for the sausages and deposits five on my plate.
No. You know, nowadays I consider becoming a vegetarian. No, of course you don’t know… All right, I’ll have the sausages, but don’t turn that caring gaze at me. I mustn’t look.
You know, I’m learning not to dream of food. Honestly. I don’t dream of any food I wish I could buy. Only of the food I already had. It’s as if I still had it. But I don’t have you watching over me. No, your voice is gone now. Your fingers are gone, too… those long slender fingers… There’s only the food that appeared on my plate, and I’ll be eating all night.
This is how I’ll wake up and wonder why I’m still so hungry that it hurts. But I won’t dream of finding a way to make some money. I’ll try to remember to offer to clean the hallway, so I’ll get some Knuts for bread, perhaps an apple, too… But I don’t really care. I’ll do it only so as not to faint in the exam.
I continue to enjoy the best meals I ever had. At Hogwarts and after. Remember that restaurant where I once again evaded the question? What did I want to eat? I lied, saying I wasn’t hungry. And you ordered for me this incredible pizza, with shrimps and tuna fish and a thick layer of cheese, and oregano. I can still smell it. But you are not there.
In this way I try to keep the hunger at bay, and I keep you away, too. When I focus on the food I can forget you were there, can’t I? At least if there is hope, this is the hope. I’ll forget you used to take care of me.
You are still taking care of me. But you don’t know. You are the one without hope.