Fic: incipient magic, imminent transformation for laroseminuit
Title: incipient magic, imminent transformation
Author/Artist: chiralove
Recipient: laroseminuit
Rating: PG
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *none *
Word count: ~1800
Summary: The Marauders begin their last year at Hogwarts. Steampunk AU.
Notes: I am soooo sorry to have been flakey this year and that this is so late! I hope you've had a very happy holiday, laroseminuit, and best wishes for the new year!
Remus runs into Sirius spine-first. He lets out all the breath in his lungs in one quick chuffing exhale. "Oomph."
"There you are," Sirius says, handing him into the compartment just as if he were a parcel or portmanteau. "Would've said that this compartment was only for prefects, but - wait -"
He grasps Remus's lapel, gives the badge an admiring buff, and grins down at him. "That's only what we've been telling the younger students to keep them out of here."
Sirius has not yet changed for school - he's dressed exactly as Remus might have expected, if he'd given the matter any thought at all. A perfect gentleman from the clean stiff lines of his very starched shirt to the bright burnish of his boots. Remus only nods, and reaches back into the corridor for his trunk, gives it another despairing heave, and finally accepts Sirius's assistance in pulling it over the threshold.
""There," Sirius says. "Sorted."
Remus nods and smiles and sinks down into one of the upholstered seats.
James and Peter, having looked up only to give him a smile and a wave, resume the pitched battle they've staged with the gleaming clockwork frogs that came in the packets of chocolate they'd bought. Peter has wound his up too tight, while James has managed to get his working a set of artillery cannons - hardly a fair battle, Remus concludes. He turns back to Sirius, ducking his head a bit.
"Ah - Alice isn't sitting with you this year?"
Sirius sits with the sprawled, boneless grace that seems to be innate to him. He yawns. "No, we broke it off over the summer. She's sitting with Lily anyhow - the two of them are revising for Alchemy or being good upper-form students and watching over the new brats, I forget."
"Lily's a prefect this year," Remus says. "She's supposed to-"
"I expect that she's doing that, then."
There seems to be nothing else to say. Remus isn't desperate enough to ask Sirius whether he's finished any of their summer assignments - the answer will be no - or about what happened with Alice. After all of Sirius's kindnesses, he won't pry.
Sirius sits bolt upright then, a shadow falling over his face as he corrects his posture. "And aren't you also supposed to be-"
"I'm here, aren't I?" Remus spreads his hands, palms up. There's no question about where he belongs.
Conversation drifts, then - summer holidays, the pleasant fizz of champagne, the prospect of starting advanced studies in Automata and Machineries, the likelihood of having a new Defense professor. It is pleasant, light, almost like being a champagne bubble and floating to the top.
Remus puts a hand to his pocket, touches the hard lump of metal there. Not now. Not yet.
The train rattles along and in the corridor, Remus can hear the rattling of the tea trolley approaching. He hesitates before pointing it out to his friends - though he knows already that they won't mind, that they have never minded and have sometimes even taken advantage of his enhanced senses.
"Tea?" Peter says, scrambling to put the rest of his chocolate back into crumpled packets. "Excellent."
He and James march their tiny frogs into perfect formations before the tea lady arrives. They gleam in the fading afternoon light, James's still rather fresh and feisty - begging in their tinny voices to be allowed to fight some more - and Peter's rather more weary.
"Here we are, dears, something to tide you over until Hogwarts."
They've taken over the compartment, rather, spilled out onto every seat and surface, and so she uses a spare trunk, left in the middle of the w, for their table, setting out the little gas lamp to warm the chafing dish. Water burbles and bubbles as it heats.
She touches a metal wand to the base of each light in the compartment, setting them aglow with the same warm fairy light that Remus had marvelled at on his first trip to Hogwarts. "That'll have you sorted in no time," she says, pouring the boiling water into a pot. "Have a good rest of your journey."
"And you, madam," Sirius says, giving her a little half-bow.
When she is gone and they are alone, they are childish and unrestrained. Hot tea, buttered crumpets, fresh strawberries still cold with their juice, jewel-like pomegranate seeds - it is all perfect.
"Better than the tea my mum makes," James says, speaking though he's still got half a crumpet in his mouth.
"I'd rather have tea cakes," Peter says, but his is the only dissenting voice.
Remus slumps, full and happy, in the seat next to Sirius. Their elbows jostle together and he's conscious of a warm feeling in his stomach. "Last year together," he says, musing aloud.
"I'm off to visit the fair Lily," James says, knocking over an empty plate as he stands. "Anyone want to come with?"
Peter follows him, but Sirius stays, looking down at Remus with a half-smile ghosting around his lips. "Not necessarily the last year together," he says. "Just our last year here."
They make plans then, castles in the air, happy thoughts of London and freedom and happy futures not blighted by the rising war. Remus never mentions that it may be difficult for him to find a job, half-human as he is - and Sirius never mentions his family, their expectations, their allegiances.
Remus is again touching the right pocket of his travelling coat, wondering if it is the time, when James and Peter burst back into the compartment, winded and collapsing into the plush seats.
"Lily's even prettier this year," James says in between pants.
"Any particular reason that you had to run back to tell us this news?" Sirius asks, with eyebrow arched.
"Tried to kiss her - she threw a book at him," Peter says. "Said she'd do worse if he tried again."
"She's been pining for me … just has to try to hide it."
James retaliates by announcing that although Peter went to Germany with his parents over the summer holiday, he hadn't met any girls, hadn't learned how to order a beer in German, and didn't even fly there by dirigible. "Old fashioned frumpy magic carpet," he says - Peter, blushing, can't deny it.
"Stop fighting, we're nearly there," Remus says. "I'm sure you learned how to order everything in Paris, we all know that you enjoyed the aeroship flight, and no doubt Lily will want to kiss you one of these days. But for now, we're rounding the bend to the station, so please just get changed into your uniforms and start acting like upper-year students who know how to behave."
Sirius ruffles his hair and calls him a perfect prefect - Remus's breath catches in his throat at that, and he turns away so that he won't have to see Sirius changing. There are some things -
They pile into one of the clanking brass carriages, leaving their trunks for the automata to bring, and whirl off toward the school, a puff of steam shrouding the carriage. Remus lurches against Sirius's side, their thighs pressed together, and he gulps when Sirius throws an arm around his shoulder.
"Hogwarts! Hail, the conquering Marauders!"
After Dumbledore's daffy speech, after the sorting and the full feast, after Sorting and the sorting out of common rooms and passwords, Remus finds himself propped up against his half-emptied trunk. Gryffindor Tower is quieting with the buzz of the students, and James and Peter have gone off on their traditional semi-annual kitchen raid.
"How is it a semi-annual kitchen raid when it happens every week?"
"Don't complain or I won't share any toast soldiers with you," Sirius says, his shoulder bumping against Remus's.
"Ah, well, we can't have that." Remus drifts until he is half-asleep, leaning against Sirius, comfortable and warm. It may be their last year here, but they are back at Hogwarts where they first met, where Sirius first knew and accepted - and the summer of separation, of silence, melts away as if it never was.
"Remus?" Sirius says, his voice soft as though he too is half-asleep.
"Yes?"
"Is that something in your pocket, or are you especially glad to see me again?"
Remus feels his cheeks heating, and turns until his face is pressed against Sirius's shoulder. "It's … I was working on a project this summer."
Sirius has heard about his summer projects before, the unsuccessful cures and quackery, but this is nothing like that. Remus fumbles in his pocket until he finds the hard lump of metal, pulls it out with suddenly shaking fingers. "This is … different," he says, trying to find the words to explain it all. "Not like my usual projects."
"Tell me about it," Sirius says, quiet and close. He's seen the locket, and he's not laughing yet.
It's a shard of twisted metal, roughly shaped like an anatomical heart - like the clockwork heart that replaced Remus's own, after the accident that is not spoken of. The brass is pressed and melted around a piece of quartz which gleams a little in the dimming light in their dormitory.
"It's … a bit of a cantrip, really. Just a … a variation on those resonance spells that Flitwick showed us last term. I … if you wear it," Remus says. "That is, I mean - if you wanted to wear it…"
Sirius's hand closes over his, and Remus can feel the pulse fluttering in his wrist. "Of course I'll want to wear it."
Remus passes it to him, the metal still warm, and watches as Sirius loops it on a chain over his neck. "There," he says, smiling. He doesn't ask about the cantrip, the resonance, the heart. He just smiles, his face still boyishly sweet, and brushes his hand against Remus's. "Thanks," he says, simply.
It echoes between them, and Remus settles himself until he's leaning against Sirius's shoulder again, pressed against him. They fit together like this, he thinks, half of him wanting to drift off to sleep like this and the other half anticipating the fruits of the kitchen raid. James and Peter will be back soon, he thinks.
Sirius puts an arm around Remus and holds him there, pressed to his side. The dormitory echoes with the sound of students unpacking their trunks, settling in for a new term, preparing for bright futures. James and Peter will be back soon, there is mischief and mayhem waiting for them in the near future, and in the end…who knows? Sirius accepted his locket, is wearing it, something of Remus's heart pressed against his bare skin.
Anything could happen, Remus thinks. Anything and everything - no longer sleepy, he feels the buzz of incipient magic, some imminent transformation. Leaning against Sirius, with the flutter of his pulse fizzing through him, with the soft huff and thrum of Sirius's breath against him, with anything and everything before him, Remus waits.
Anything, he will say when Sirius asks. Anything.
Author/Artist: chiralove
Recipient: laroseminuit
Rating: PG
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *none *
Word count: ~1800
Summary: The Marauders begin their last year at Hogwarts. Steampunk AU.
Notes: I am soooo sorry to have been flakey this year and that this is so late! I hope you've had a very happy holiday, laroseminuit, and best wishes for the new year!
Remus runs into Sirius spine-first. He lets out all the breath in his lungs in one quick chuffing exhale. "Oomph."
"There you are," Sirius says, handing him into the compartment just as if he were a parcel or portmanteau. "Would've said that this compartment was only for prefects, but - wait -"
He grasps Remus's lapel, gives the badge an admiring buff, and grins down at him. "That's only what we've been telling the younger students to keep them out of here."
Sirius has not yet changed for school - he's dressed exactly as Remus might have expected, if he'd given the matter any thought at all. A perfect gentleman from the clean stiff lines of his very starched shirt to the bright burnish of his boots. Remus only nods, and reaches back into the corridor for his trunk, gives it another despairing heave, and finally accepts Sirius's assistance in pulling it over the threshold.
""There," Sirius says. "Sorted."
Remus nods and smiles and sinks down into one of the upholstered seats.
James and Peter, having looked up only to give him a smile and a wave, resume the pitched battle they've staged with the gleaming clockwork frogs that came in the packets of chocolate they'd bought. Peter has wound his up too tight, while James has managed to get his working a set of artillery cannons - hardly a fair battle, Remus concludes. He turns back to Sirius, ducking his head a bit.
"Ah - Alice isn't sitting with you this year?"
Sirius sits with the sprawled, boneless grace that seems to be innate to him. He yawns. "No, we broke it off over the summer. She's sitting with Lily anyhow - the two of them are revising for Alchemy or being good upper-form students and watching over the new brats, I forget."
"Lily's a prefect this year," Remus says. "She's supposed to-"
"I expect that she's doing that, then."
There seems to be nothing else to say. Remus isn't desperate enough to ask Sirius whether he's finished any of their summer assignments - the answer will be no - or about what happened with Alice. After all of Sirius's kindnesses, he won't pry.
Sirius sits bolt upright then, a shadow falling over his face as he corrects his posture. "And aren't you also supposed to be-"
"I'm here, aren't I?" Remus spreads his hands, palms up. There's no question about where he belongs.
Conversation drifts, then - summer holidays, the pleasant fizz of champagne, the prospect of starting advanced studies in Automata and Machineries, the likelihood of having a new Defense professor. It is pleasant, light, almost like being a champagne bubble and floating to the top.
Remus puts a hand to his pocket, touches the hard lump of metal there. Not now. Not yet.
The train rattles along and in the corridor, Remus can hear the rattling of the tea trolley approaching. He hesitates before pointing it out to his friends - though he knows already that they won't mind, that they have never minded and have sometimes even taken advantage of his enhanced senses.
"Tea?" Peter says, scrambling to put the rest of his chocolate back into crumpled packets. "Excellent."
He and James march their tiny frogs into perfect formations before the tea lady arrives. They gleam in the fading afternoon light, James's still rather fresh and feisty - begging in their tinny voices to be allowed to fight some more - and Peter's rather more weary.
"Here we are, dears, something to tide you over until Hogwarts."
They've taken over the compartment, rather, spilled out onto every seat and surface, and so she uses a spare trunk, left in the middle of the w, for their table, setting out the little gas lamp to warm the chafing dish. Water burbles and bubbles as it heats.
She touches a metal wand to the base of each light in the compartment, setting them aglow with the same warm fairy light that Remus had marvelled at on his first trip to Hogwarts. "That'll have you sorted in no time," she says, pouring the boiling water into a pot. "Have a good rest of your journey."
"And you, madam," Sirius says, giving her a little half-bow.
When she is gone and they are alone, they are childish and unrestrained. Hot tea, buttered crumpets, fresh strawberries still cold with their juice, jewel-like pomegranate seeds - it is all perfect.
"Better than the tea my mum makes," James says, speaking though he's still got half a crumpet in his mouth.
"I'd rather have tea cakes," Peter says, but his is the only dissenting voice.
Remus slumps, full and happy, in the seat next to Sirius. Their elbows jostle together and he's conscious of a warm feeling in his stomach. "Last year together," he says, musing aloud.
"I'm off to visit the fair Lily," James says, knocking over an empty plate as he stands. "Anyone want to come with?"
Peter follows him, but Sirius stays, looking down at Remus with a half-smile ghosting around his lips. "Not necessarily the last year together," he says. "Just our last year here."
They make plans then, castles in the air, happy thoughts of London and freedom and happy futures not blighted by the rising war. Remus never mentions that it may be difficult for him to find a job, half-human as he is - and Sirius never mentions his family, their expectations, their allegiances.
Remus is again touching the right pocket of his travelling coat, wondering if it is the time, when James and Peter burst back into the compartment, winded and collapsing into the plush seats.
"Lily's even prettier this year," James says in between pants.
"Any particular reason that you had to run back to tell us this news?" Sirius asks, with eyebrow arched.
"Tried to kiss her - she threw a book at him," Peter says. "Said she'd do worse if he tried again."
"She's been pining for me … just has to try to hide it."
James retaliates by announcing that although Peter went to Germany with his parents over the summer holiday, he hadn't met any girls, hadn't learned how to order a beer in German, and didn't even fly there by dirigible. "Old fashioned frumpy magic carpet," he says - Peter, blushing, can't deny it.
"Stop fighting, we're nearly there," Remus says. "I'm sure you learned how to order everything in Paris, we all know that you enjoyed the aeroship flight, and no doubt Lily will want to kiss you one of these days. But for now, we're rounding the bend to the station, so please just get changed into your uniforms and start acting like upper-year students who know how to behave."
Sirius ruffles his hair and calls him a perfect prefect - Remus's breath catches in his throat at that, and he turns away so that he won't have to see Sirius changing. There are some things -
They pile into one of the clanking brass carriages, leaving their trunks for the automata to bring, and whirl off toward the school, a puff of steam shrouding the carriage. Remus lurches against Sirius's side, their thighs pressed together, and he gulps when Sirius throws an arm around his shoulder.
"Hogwarts! Hail, the conquering Marauders!"
After Dumbledore's daffy speech, after the sorting and the full feast, after Sorting and the sorting out of common rooms and passwords, Remus finds himself propped up against his half-emptied trunk. Gryffindor Tower is quieting with the buzz of the students, and James and Peter have gone off on their traditional semi-annual kitchen raid.
"How is it a semi-annual kitchen raid when it happens every week?"
"Don't complain or I won't share any toast soldiers with you," Sirius says, his shoulder bumping against Remus's.
"Ah, well, we can't have that." Remus drifts until he is half-asleep, leaning against Sirius, comfortable and warm. It may be their last year here, but they are back at Hogwarts where they first met, where Sirius first knew and accepted - and the summer of separation, of silence, melts away as if it never was.
"Remus?" Sirius says, his voice soft as though he too is half-asleep.
"Yes?"
"Is that something in your pocket, or are you especially glad to see me again?"
Remus feels his cheeks heating, and turns until his face is pressed against Sirius's shoulder. "It's … I was working on a project this summer."
Sirius has heard about his summer projects before, the unsuccessful cures and quackery, but this is nothing like that. Remus fumbles in his pocket until he finds the hard lump of metal, pulls it out with suddenly shaking fingers. "This is … different," he says, trying to find the words to explain it all. "Not like my usual projects."
"Tell me about it," Sirius says, quiet and close. He's seen the locket, and he's not laughing yet.
It's a shard of twisted metal, roughly shaped like an anatomical heart - like the clockwork heart that replaced Remus's own, after the accident that is not spoken of. The brass is pressed and melted around a piece of quartz which gleams a little in the dimming light in their dormitory.
"It's … a bit of a cantrip, really. Just a … a variation on those resonance spells that Flitwick showed us last term. I … if you wear it," Remus says. "That is, I mean - if you wanted to wear it…"
Sirius's hand closes over his, and Remus can feel the pulse fluttering in his wrist. "Of course I'll want to wear it."
Remus passes it to him, the metal still warm, and watches as Sirius loops it on a chain over his neck. "There," he says, smiling. He doesn't ask about the cantrip, the resonance, the heart. He just smiles, his face still boyishly sweet, and brushes his hand against Remus's. "Thanks," he says, simply.
It echoes between them, and Remus settles himself until he's leaning against Sirius's shoulder again, pressed against him. They fit together like this, he thinks, half of him wanting to drift off to sleep like this and the other half anticipating the fruits of the kitchen raid. James and Peter will be back soon, he thinks.
Sirius puts an arm around Remus and holds him there, pressed to his side. The dormitory echoes with the sound of students unpacking their trunks, settling in for a new term, preparing for bright futures. James and Peter will be back soon, there is mischief and mayhem waiting for them in the near future, and in the end…who knows? Sirius accepted his locket, is wearing it, something of Remus's heart pressed against his bare skin.
Anything could happen, Remus thinks. Anything and everything - no longer sleepy, he feels the buzz of incipient magic, some imminent transformation. Leaning against Sirius, with the flutter of his pulse fizzing through him, with the soft huff and thrum of Sirius's breath against him, with anything and everything before him, Remus waits.
Anything, he will say when Sirius asks. Anything.