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A Werewolf and A Mummy... [Harry Potter]
Title: A Werewolf and A Mummy...
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: It wasn't strictly an affair. Sirius wasn't even, strictly-speaking, alive. (Sirius is a zombie/mummy.)
Characters/Pairings: Remus/Tonks, Remus/Sirius
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
AN: Written for the "zombie" prompt on my bingo card at cliche_bingo.
Word Count: 1412
A Werewolf and A Mummy...
"Remus." Dora's voice was quiet, timid. That wasn't usual for her.
"Is there a problem?" He turned from where he was directing scrubbing charms on the dinner plates.
"Have you heard any unusual sounds from the back garden?"
Ah, so her timidity came not from fear of something in the wild, but from fear of sounding crazy to his ears. That was senseless. If there was one thing that had drawn them together, it was mutual unsoundness of mind.
"Not to speak of," he answered her. "Why?"
"Never mind." She walked away sullenly.
Sullen. It was the mood that pervaded their home, newlyweds though they be. Remus didn't stop often to wonder why the moodiness had descended thus upon them. There was, after all, a war on, and happiness was hard to find.
This smidgen of conversation was the first he heard of troubles in the back garden, but it was not to be the last. Attuned now as to what he should be listening towards, Remus did hear funny things several nights that week, and the back of the house more or less seemed the culprit.
"You know," he said the following Tuesday to Dora over breakfast, "I almost heard a voice in the back garden last night."
Her wide eyes stared across at him. "You heard it too, then?"
"Did you think you were hearing voices, love?"
"Didn't know what to think, but yeah, that was somewhere on my list."
Remus chuckled. Then, more seriously, he added, "If it happens again tonight, I'm going out to see what the fuss is about."
She plucked a strawberry from the table with her fork and answered only, "I wish you wouldn't."
"Oh? Probably some rambler taken up residence in our backyard."
"Or worse. There is a war on, Remus."
"Surely you don't think a Death Eater is just camping in the garden in the hopes that I'll go look."
"Then go out in daylight," she implored.
"The drifter isn't likely to hang about in daylight."
"That may be, but there will be signs regardless. In fact, I think we ought to. We should go right now."
"Now?" Remus was startled by the proposition. He was still in his bathrobe.
Dora, likewise still in her dressing gown, leapt up as if he'd voiced a demand and not a question. She went for the door, wrapping a shawl about her shoulders. "You stay in if you like," she added as she slipped out of the house.
"Bugger all," Remus muttered, finding loafers for his bare feet and rushing out after her.
There were signs of something. The earth was freshly turned over and a smell like rotten meat filled the air. Dora stepped on the pile of loose dirt. "That's a big mole."
They could find no other signs of anything amiss other than the disgusting smell and the loosened earth, and they had no choice but to attribute it to perhaps a mole having died, or some animal burying its latest meal in their back garden. They both thought they'd heard voices from the garden, but it couldn't have been anything other than an animal.
The sounds continued, though, and as Remus was awoken more than once by a vague sense of hearing voices-- or perhaps just one voice-- his confidence in hearing something non-animal grew. One night, without waking Dora, he climbed down the stairs to the kitchen and pushed back the frilly little curtain on the window over the sink. From here, he was afforded a good view of the back garden. The waning gibbous moon lit the yard well, but he saw no people. In fact, he saw what looked like a very large dog mussing with the earth.
"It can't be," Remus whispered uncomfortably. "I must be dreaming." He turned and quickly went back to bed before he could think too hard about what he thought he'd seen.
The voices, though, did not stop, and it was dark and moonless when Remus finally woke up nearly two weeks later with the intent to chase away whatever animal it was that was disturbing the garden. He dressed quickly and quietly, gripped his wand tightly before him, and swung open the door to the back garden.
He still heard a voice, though he could see almost nothing. A putrid smell greeted his noise, and he followed the voice. It was hardly more than a whisper, and he realized that someone sounded as if they were whispering to themselves.
"Lumos!" Remus' white-blue wandlight cast angular shadows across the back yard. Sitting there, silent now, was a thin and frail looking but clearly human figure. A tangled mass of hair hid the face from Remus.
"Who are you?" Remus called.
The dark head tilted up and caught Remus' wandlight. Remus gasped.
"Sirius? How--"
"I'm not--" Sirius started, but Remus was already tumbling forward. The smell grew dense and rancid, and he realized then that the scent of rotted meat was Sirius.
Remus stopped in his advance. "Are you-- are you an inferius?"
Then the creature before him laughed with true humour, bright and colorful, though the smell got worse with the sound. "If I were, am I supposed to say so?" Sirius asked.
Remus, realizing the foolishness of his question, hunched down and puffed out a breath. Inferi did not have senses of humour. "What-- What's going on here?"
"I wish I knew," Sirius answered. "If I weren't dead, I'd kill myself."
"Dead?"
"You saw--"
"Yes, I know," Remus snapped.
Sirius laughed. "Is there such a thing as zombies? Because if there is, I think I'm one."
"That's-- a muggle legend," Remus whispered.
"Pity. Feel nice to know what to call myself. Look at this."
Remus held his wand up further to see Sirius better. He nearly retched when he did. Sirius was partly-rotted, maggots around one eye, face white as a sheet and sallow. His only coloring came from the browns and yellows of fungus eating away the flesh at his cheeks.
And somehow, to Remus, he was still beautiful.
Sirius laughed tensely and pulled off a hand at the wrist. "Need a hand?" he joked, holding the detached body part up.
Despite his nausea, Remus found himself laughing. "How can you possibly have a good sense of humour at a time like this?"
"Will having a poor sense of humour bring me back to life?" Sirius asked, carefully re-attaching his wrist. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I'll try to be more gloomy."
"So... you're living in the garden, then?" Remus asked.
Suddenly Sirius was sober as he answered, "I could go, if you'd rather not have me about. I know I must not smell very good." He made a show of sniffing under an arm, and Remus laughed again.
"Stay," Remus answered, sliding to sit on the ground next to Sirius. His nose was becoming less sensitive as he sat out here, and the proximity didn't bother him so much as it had moments ago. Remus reached out and held one of Sirius' rotting hands in his, asking quietly, "May I?"
"You can't think you're going to-- that we're--"
Remus shook his head. "I'm with Dora now, Sirius," he said bluntly.
"I'm aware."
"But I was hoping-- do you mind if I try something?"
"What?" Sirius sounded highly skeptical.
"I don't know how well it would work, but I did do an internship in Egypt..."
"A mummy?" Sirius gasped.
"It might work."
Sirius wrapped a clammy and ice-cold hand around Remus's. Remus took it in his own, held it close to his face in the dark, and began the drying process with his wand. It might not be much of an improvement, but surely being a mummy must be better than being a zombie.
"Thank you," Sirius whispered.
Remus squeezed the hand and kept on working.
*****
"Remus." Dora's voice was quiet, timid.
"Is there a problem?" He turned from where he was directing scrubbing charms on the dinner plates.
"Have you heard any unusual sounds from the cellar?"
"Not at all," he answered.
"I thought I heard voices after the Full Moon."
"That must have been me. I'm sorry. I'll sound proof it better."
"Alright," she nodded and left him to finish the dishes.
Remus smiled to himself, gazing out of the kitchen window. Yes, they might just be able to keep this up a little while. It wasn't strictly an affair. Sirius wasn't even, strictly-speaking, alive. Besides, it sounded too much like a bad joke...
A werewolf and a mummy walk into a bar...
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: It wasn't strictly an affair. Sirius wasn't even, strictly-speaking, alive. (Sirius is a zombie/mummy.)
Characters/Pairings: Remus/Tonks, Remus/Sirius
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
AN: Written for the "zombie" prompt on my bingo card at cliche_bingo.
Word Count: 1412
A Werewolf and A Mummy...
"Remus." Dora's voice was quiet, timid. That wasn't usual for her.
"Is there a problem?" He turned from where he was directing scrubbing charms on the dinner plates.
"Have you heard any unusual sounds from the back garden?"
Ah, so her timidity came not from fear of something in the wild, but from fear of sounding crazy to his ears. That was senseless. If there was one thing that had drawn them together, it was mutual unsoundness of mind.
"Not to speak of," he answered her. "Why?"
"Never mind." She walked away sullenly.
Sullen. It was the mood that pervaded their home, newlyweds though they be. Remus didn't stop often to wonder why the moodiness had descended thus upon them. There was, after all, a war on, and happiness was hard to find.
This smidgen of conversation was the first he heard of troubles in the back garden, but it was not to be the last. Attuned now as to what he should be listening towards, Remus did hear funny things several nights that week, and the back of the house more or less seemed the culprit.
"You know," he said the following Tuesday to Dora over breakfast, "I almost heard a voice in the back garden last night."
Her wide eyes stared across at him. "You heard it too, then?"
"Did you think you were hearing voices, love?"
"Didn't know what to think, but yeah, that was somewhere on my list."
Remus chuckled. Then, more seriously, he added, "If it happens again tonight, I'm going out to see what the fuss is about."
She plucked a strawberry from the table with her fork and answered only, "I wish you wouldn't."
"Oh? Probably some rambler taken up residence in our backyard."
"Or worse. There is a war on, Remus."
"Surely you don't think a Death Eater is just camping in the garden in the hopes that I'll go look."
"Then go out in daylight," she implored.
"The drifter isn't likely to hang about in daylight."
"That may be, but there will be signs regardless. In fact, I think we ought to. We should go right now."
"Now?" Remus was startled by the proposition. He was still in his bathrobe.
Dora, likewise still in her dressing gown, leapt up as if he'd voiced a demand and not a question. She went for the door, wrapping a shawl about her shoulders. "You stay in if you like," she added as she slipped out of the house.
"Bugger all," Remus muttered, finding loafers for his bare feet and rushing out after her.
There were signs of something. The earth was freshly turned over and a smell like rotten meat filled the air. Dora stepped on the pile of loose dirt. "That's a big mole."
They could find no other signs of anything amiss other than the disgusting smell and the loosened earth, and they had no choice but to attribute it to perhaps a mole having died, or some animal burying its latest meal in their back garden. They both thought they'd heard voices from the garden, but it couldn't have been anything other than an animal.
The sounds continued, though, and as Remus was awoken more than once by a vague sense of hearing voices-- or perhaps just one voice-- his confidence in hearing something non-animal grew. One night, without waking Dora, he climbed down the stairs to the kitchen and pushed back the frilly little curtain on the window over the sink. From here, he was afforded a good view of the back garden. The waning gibbous moon lit the yard well, but he saw no people. In fact, he saw what looked like a very large dog mussing with the earth.
"It can't be," Remus whispered uncomfortably. "I must be dreaming." He turned and quickly went back to bed before he could think too hard about what he thought he'd seen.
The voices, though, did not stop, and it was dark and moonless when Remus finally woke up nearly two weeks later with the intent to chase away whatever animal it was that was disturbing the garden. He dressed quickly and quietly, gripped his wand tightly before him, and swung open the door to the back garden.
He still heard a voice, though he could see almost nothing. A putrid smell greeted his noise, and he followed the voice. It was hardly more than a whisper, and he realized that someone sounded as if they were whispering to themselves.
"Lumos!" Remus' white-blue wandlight cast angular shadows across the back yard. Sitting there, silent now, was a thin and frail looking but clearly human figure. A tangled mass of hair hid the face from Remus.
"Who are you?" Remus called.
The dark head tilted up and caught Remus' wandlight. Remus gasped.
"Sirius? How--"
"I'm not--" Sirius started, but Remus was already tumbling forward. The smell grew dense and rancid, and he realized then that the scent of rotted meat was Sirius.
Remus stopped in his advance. "Are you-- are you an inferius?"
Then the creature before him laughed with true humour, bright and colorful, though the smell got worse with the sound. "If I were, am I supposed to say so?" Sirius asked.
Remus, realizing the foolishness of his question, hunched down and puffed out a breath. Inferi did not have senses of humour. "What-- What's going on here?"
"I wish I knew," Sirius answered. "If I weren't dead, I'd kill myself."
"Dead?"
"You saw--"
"Yes, I know," Remus snapped.
Sirius laughed. "Is there such a thing as zombies? Because if there is, I think I'm one."
"That's-- a muggle legend," Remus whispered.
"Pity. Feel nice to know what to call myself. Look at this."
Remus held his wand up further to see Sirius better. He nearly retched when he did. Sirius was partly-rotted, maggots around one eye, face white as a sheet and sallow. His only coloring came from the browns and yellows of fungus eating away the flesh at his cheeks.
And somehow, to Remus, he was still beautiful.
Sirius laughed tensely and pulled off a hand at the wrist. "Need a hand?" he joked, holding the detached body part up.
Despite his nausea, Remus found himself laughing. "How can you possibly have a good sense of humour at a time like this?"
"Will having a poor sense of humour bring me back to life?" Sirius asked, carefully re-attaching his wrist. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I'll try to be more gloomy."
"So... you're living in the garden, then?" Remus asked.
Suddenly Sirius was sober as he answered, "I could go, if you'd rather not have me about. I know I must not smell very good." He made a show of sniffing under an arm, and Remus laughed again.
"Stay," Remus answered, sliding to sit on the ground next to Sirius. His nose was becoming less sensitive as he sat out here, and the proximity didn't bother him so much as it had moments ago. Remus reached out and held one of Sirius' rotting hands in his, asking quietly, "May I?"
"You can't think you're going to-- that we're--"
Remus shook his head. "I'm with Dora now, Sirius," he said bluntly.
"I'm aware."
"But I was hoping-- do you mind if I try something?"
"What?" Sirius sounded highly skeptical.
"I don't know how well it would work, but I did do an internship in Egypt..."
"A mummy?" Sirius gasped.
"It might work."
Sirius wrapped a clammy and ice-cold hand around Remus's. Remus took it in his own, held it close to his face in the dark, and began the drying process with his wand. It might not be much of an improvement, but surely being a mummy must be better than being a zombie.
"Thank you," Sirius whispered.
Remus squeezed the hand and kept on working.
*****
"Remus." Dora's voice was quiet, timid.
"Is there a problem?" He turned from where he was directing scrubbing charms on the dinner plates.
"Have you heard any unusual sounds from the cellar?"
"Not at all," he answered.
"I thought I heard voices after the Full Moon."
"That must have been me. I'm sorry. I'll sound proof it better."
"Alright," she nodded and left him to finish the dishes.
Remus smiled to himself, gazing out of the kitchen window. Yes, they might just be able to keep this up a little while. It wasn't strictly an affair. Sirius wasn't even, strictly-speaking, alive. Besides, it sounded too much like a bad joke...
A werewolf and a mummy walk into a bar...