rhye
in
vintageflame
The Frame of Fables [Harry Potter]
Title: The Frame of Fables
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: "without the frame of fables" (for 31_days_exchnge); Sirius can't tell his fables from his past. OotP-era.
Characters/Pairings: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Genre: Angst, Fic
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Word Count: 933
The Frame of Fables
Without the frame of fables, stories made up to keep himself sane, he could see they were only friends, if that. The past was a hard thing to grasp, and as much as he lived in it, so often parts seemed fictional. The story was better than the reality.
Sirius had never liked Remus. Not really. He'd liked Peter. Quite a lot. Peter did whatever Sirius asked, no complaining. Remus always gave him a look or sometimes a talking to, and reminded Sirius of his mum. More than once Sirius had wondered why Remus even hung out with them. Sirius had thought being friends with a werewolf was going to be brilliant fun, but it turned out it was nothing like he'd thought. It was exactly like being friends with a bookish Prefect.
Remus had needed a place to stay after school was done, and Sirius had flat-out refused to even offer the second bedroom of his spacious London flat. He'd never inquired as to where Remus had settled. He hadn't cared. He'd been hoping to lose the square after graduation. He hadn't been so lucky.
Guilt swirled in dust around Grimmauld Place, stirring up Sirius' memories and not-memories, the visions and fables and truths. He wanted to have been best friends with Remus, always. He imagined-- he had imagined for a decade now-- that he and Remus had been buggering. That they'd been in love. In love. Sirius hadn't even liked the bloke back in school. He'd liked Peter. He'd grown close to hating Remus.
A lot had changed. Sirius adored the fable.
"Sirius, don't--" Whenever Remus asked him to do or not do something, Sirius obeyed. It wasn't guilt. Alright, it wasn't just guilt. It was-- respect. Admiration. Trust? Sirius didn't know who might betray him these days, but he did know who wouldn't betray him, and among that small count-- at the head of that small count-- stood Remus Lupin. Sirius had done awful things to Remus and never once had been betrayed in return. He knew he was safe with Remus.
One night, Remus returned from an Order mission very late. Sirius had been up... thinking. And thinking, as usual, meant drinking. When Sirius heard the front door open, he did his best to welcome his friend home, stumbling from the study to grimace towards the front door.
Remus sighed and stared at Sirius down the front hallway, still undoing his coat. "You don't look well, Sirius."
"I'm well."
"Have you been sleeping--"
"I've slept."
"Without a nightcap?"
"Nothing wrong with a nightcap."
Remus sighed again. "I know you don't sleep soundly when you've been drinking. Those nightmares--"
"How do you know that?" A story Sirius had told himself once in Azkaban surfaced, floating up like a heavy bubble at the bottom of a Dementor-filled sea. It was a story about Remus, full of whispers, words he couldn't understand, a groan, tossing and turning, sleeplessness and stress and heaviness. He remembered drinking, he remembered nightmares, and the memories bled straight into Remus, Remus waking him with firm and warm arms around Sirius' shaking shoulders, Remus' mouth on his--
Sirius' words had come out sharp and angry, as if Remus had no right to invade his very private prison-hall memories. In fact, Sirius was, at that moment, wondering when Remus had become a legilimens. Or had he always been? Sirius blushed, remembering all of the recent pornographic thoughts he'd had of his former "friend".
"You used to--" Remus started.
"You don't know what. You were never there."
"I... I thought you didn't... Don't tell me you really haven't remembered, all this time? You seem to remember everything..."
"Remembered what?"
Remus set down his bag and unbuttoned his dirt-ringed shirt collar. "About us. You haven't said anything, so I thought you wanted to forget it had happened."
"What us--"
"You remember everything about then, Sirius. I thought you were only pretending to forget that we--"
"No." Sirius took a charged step backwards. "There is no we. There was never any we. I imagined it. What is this? Do you know legilimency?" He felt his pulse race, bumps rising on his arms. He had left Azkaban. He remembered it. He hadn't confused reality with what the Dementors had fed him since he'd left. He surely couldn't still be there, surely couldn't be in that cage. He couldn't, he couldn't...
Sirius regained consciousness to find himself cradled awkwardly in a warm embrace against a hard wall. There were words, someone speaking to him.
"It wasn't real," Sirius whispered. "It was just a fairy tale."
"It was real," Remus whispered. "It may have been a fairy tale, also."
"It was a fable I told myself to imagine there was someone waiting for me--"
"Sirius. There was someone waiting for you. I never believed... I never imagined they could take that from you."
"They take everything," Sirius was too emotionally drained to even shudder.
"Come on," Remus carefully helped Sirius shift back to his feet. "One thing at a time. Let's get you some sleep-- no alcohol-- and we can talk about the Dementors in the morning." He pushed Sirius in the direction of his room.
Sirius, however, turned around and gripped Remus on a sleeve, suddenly terrified. "This could be a dream also. I'll wake--"
"Shhhh, it's not," Remus' warm breath lingered on Sirius' neck.
"Don't leave--"
"I won't. But you need to sleep off the drink, Sirius."
Sirius nodded and let himself be pushed. He closed his eyes, and for a moment didn't even care if he was living in a fable. It was better than the reality he had believed these many-- how long now? Years? Had he loved Remus back in school? Maybe he hadn't liked Peter? Sirius didn't know. He couldn't remember.
He didn't even care.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: "without the frame of fables" (for 31_days_exchnge); Sirius can't tell his fables from his past. OotP-era.
Characters/Pairings: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Genre: Angst, Fic
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Word Count: 933
The Frame of Fables
Without the frame of fables, stories made up to keep himself sane, he could see they were only friends, if that. The past was a hard thing to grasp, and as much as he lived in it, so often parts seemed fictional. The story was better than the reality.
Sirius had never liked Remus. Not really. He'd liked Peter. Quite a lot. Peter did whatever Sirius asked, no complaining. Remus always gave him a look or sometimes a talking to, and reminded Sirius of his mum. More than once Sirius had wondered why Remus even hung out with them. Sirius had thought being friends with a werewolf was going to be brilliant fun, but it turned out it was nothing like he'd thought. It was exactly like being friends with a bookish Prefect.
Remus had needed a place to stay after school was done, and Sirius had flat-out refused to even offer the second bedroom of his spacious London flat. He'd never inquired as to where Remus had settled. He hadn't cared. He'd been hoping to lose the square after graduation. He hadn't been so lucky.
Guilt swirled in dust around Grimmauld Place, stirring up Sirius' memories and not-memories, the visions and fables and truths. He wanted to have been best friends with Remus, always. He imagined-- he had imagined for a decade now-- that he and Remus had been buggering. That they'd been in love. In love. Sirius hadn't even liked the bloke back in school. He'd liked Peter. He'd grown close to hating Remus.
A lot had changed. Sirius adored the fable.
"Sirius, don't--" Whenever Remus asked him to do or not do something, Sirius obeyed. It wasn't guilt. Alright, it wasn't just guilt. It was-- respect. Admiration. Trust? Sirius didn't know who might betray him these days, but he did know who wouldn't betray him, and among that small count-- at the head of that small count-- stood Remus Lupin. Sirius had done awful things to Remus and never once had been betrayed in return. He knew he was safe with Remus.
One night, Remus returned from an Order mission very late. Sirius had been up... thinking. And thinking, as usual, meant drinking. When Sirius heard the front door open, he did his best to welcome his friend home, stumbling from the study to grimace towards the front door.
Remus sighed and stared at Sirius down the front hallway, still undoing his coat. "You don't look well, Sirius."
"I'm well."
"Have you been sleeping--"
"I've slept."
"Without a nightcap?"
"Nothing wrong with a nightcap."
Remus sighed again. "I know you don't sleep soundly when you've been drinking. Those nightmares--"
"How do you know that?" A story Sirius had told himself once in Azkaban surfaced, floating up like a heavy bubble at the bottom of a Dementor-filled sea. It was a story about Remus, full of whispers, words he couldn't understand, a groan, tossing and turning, sleeplessness and stress and heaviness. He remembered drinking, he remembered nightmares, and the memories bled straight into Remus, Remus waking him with firm and warm arms around Sirius' shaking shoulders, Remus' mouth on his--
Sirius' words had come out sharp and angry, as if Remus had no right to invade his very private prison-hall memories. In fact, Sirius was, at that moment, wondering when Remus had become a legilimens. Or had he always been? Sirius blushed, remembering all of the recent pornographic thoughts he'd had of his former "friend".
"You used to--" Remus started.
"You don't know what. You were never there."
"I... I thought you didn't... Don't tell me you really haven't remembered, all this time? You seem to remember everything..."
"Remembered what?"
Remus set down his bag and unbuttoned his dirt-ringed shirt collar. "About us. You haven't said anything, so I thought you wanted to forget it had happened."
"What us--"
"You remember everything about then, Sirius. I thought you were only pretending to forget that we--"
"No." Sirius took a charged step backwards. "There is no we. There was never any we. I imagined it. What is this? Do you know legilimency?" He felt his pulse race, bumps rising on his arms. He had left Azkaban. He remembered it. He hadn't confused reality with what the Dementors had fed him since he'd left. He surely couldn't still be there, surely couldn't be in that cage. He couldn't, he couldn't...
Sirius regained consciousness to find himself cradled awkwardly in a warm embrace against a hard wall. There were words, someone speaking to him.
"It wasn't real," Sirius whispered. "It was just a fairy tale."
"It was real," Remus whispered. "It may have been a fairy tale, also."
"It was a fable I told myself to imagine there was someone waiting for me--"
"Sirius. There was someone waiting for you. I never believed... I never imagined they could take that from you."
"They take everything," Sirius was too emotionally drained to even shudder.
"Come on," Remus carefully helped Sirius shift back to his feet. "One thing at a time. Let's get you some sleep-- no alcohol-- and we can talk about the Dementors in the morning." He pushed Sirius in the direction of his room.
Sirius, however, turned around and gripped Remus on a sleeve, suddenly terrified. "This could be a dream also. I'll wake--"
"Shhhh, it's not," Remus' warm breath lingered on Sirius' neck.
"Don't leave--"
"I won't. But you need to sleep off the drink, Sirius."
Sirius nodded and let himself be pushed. He closed his eyes, and for a moment didn't even care if he was living in a fable. It was better than the reality he had believed these many-- how long now? Years? Had he loved Remus back in school? Maybe he hadn't liked Peter? Sirius didn't know. He couldn't remember.
He didn't even care.