StarFall, Moonset
SOund and Fury
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Disclaimer: not
mine, if they were I wouldn’t be a poor college student
Starfall,
Moonset
By:
Irish
Chapter
Four: Sound and Fury
A week passed in stony silence. The only words spoken
between them those of dire function ‘pass the butter’ and ‘where’s the salt’.
Remus cooked for them most evenings, generally some kind of soup, as that was
his normal diet and it was what Remus thought would settle best in Sirius’s
stomach. Feeding the two of them his staples were running out quickly and he
was becoming worried about feeding them both. Remus did the best he could to
make the soups go further, using an old trick he learned from his mother and
adding dumplings to everything. Dumplings were little more then flour and water
made into a paste, and flour was cheap and lasted for a long time. Remus also
made biscuits after the same fashion, but by Friday, he was combining soup
bones from past meals hoping that there would be enough to flavor the water and
make it broth. The silence was starting to stretch just as thin.
The silence weighed on him heavily, built small annoyances
into large resentments, built scar into gapping wounds. Each hour they passed
by with words unspoken was another lash of the whip. As far as Remus could tell
Padfoot didn’t mind, but Remus felt as though he were slowly going mad. The
final descent of a slope he had started to slip down since his first change.
As the old, spent soup bones sat in the simmering water with
the last ragtag ends of turkey and chicken meat, as much fat as anything, Remus
slipped into his bedroom, a place he had barely set foot in since Sirius had
arrived and taken it over. He opened the closet and dug out the old leather
case, held together with spell-o-tape, bumper stickers and a prayer. He laid
the case on his unmade bed, the puff of air that rose from the mattress
smelling heavily of Sirius. Clicking open the three small latches he cracked
the case, laying over the lid on the bed and lifting out the well tended six
string. He lifted it from its stained velvet bed, sliding the braided strap
across his chest so the guitar lay across his back. He shut the case and moved
across the room and through the cabin, seating hlf olf on the creaking wooden
porch.
Remus was from a wizarding family, not unlike the Weaslie’s,
too many, too proud, and too poor. Too poor to buy the silence of others about
Remus’s affliction, too many to go unnoticed, and too proud to take charity
when it was needed. Remus had inherited that pride as sure as he inherited his
gaunt frame and tawny hair. After he had graduated from Hogwarts, he had
learned that, eventually it was found out exactly what he was, and was pushed
to the very fringes of wizarding society, but unwilling to take the charity
offered from Dumbledor has Hagrid had, he had learned to live at the edge of
muggle society as well, keeping a foot in each world.
Hd did discovered many things that he truly adored about the
muggle world. One was cooking, by hand, with no help from magic but a few
simple appliances. Another was their music, a love he had developed even in his
Hogwarts years, listening to the muggle children’s cassette tapes on a
gerry-rigged tape player, as much magic as muggle. It was those songs; simple
folky songs that came to mind as he sat down on his front porch bring the guitar
into his lap, his hands finding its smooth wood and tight strings. He strummed
once, with the pad of his thumb, wincing at discord. He tuned carefully, going
by ear, his tu for fork lost somewhere along the way. When he was satisfied he
smiled slightly and finger picked a couple riffs, improving a bit. His instinct
was to play something melancholy and crooning, but he shoved the urge aside. No
wallowing. He cleared his throat and his plucking took on a more certain tone.
“Well I’m aiming for heaven…. But probably wind up down in
hell, where upon this altar I will hang my guilt riddend, bd, but its time I’ll
take before I begin, three sheets to the wind, three sheets to the wind. Rebels
are we, though heavy our hearts shall always be…. And no ball or chain prison
shall keep, were the rebels of the sacred heart.” IT was a quick paced song of
Irish Rebellion, that took a lot of concentration to play and was fast enough
to make his arm sore as he tore the hell out of this thumb making the strings
shout. As he came to the last verse is
slowed slightly, allowing him to catch his breath and rest his arm before
blasting into the very last line. When the song was finished he fell back on
the splintery porch catching his breath, smiling slightly to himself. His
mother had been of the Irish Republic, and though he steered clear of the whole
mess himself, he had the heart of an Irish rebel, and the song reminded him of
the Marauders. Clearing his throat, he toned it down; giving in to the more
relaxed folk sound that was his usual style.
He played the sun down, singing his heart and mind calm, and
his throat raw. By the time he stood up again, his hips creaked dangerously and
he almost found himself face first in his dooryard, but he managed to keep his
balance. If soupsoup was ever going to be ready it would be ready now… and if
it wasn’t… then Remus supposed they would have water and vegetables… sort of a
chunky tea. He leaned his guitar against the wall as he moved over to the
kitchen, taking down two bowls that didn’t match and two soupspoons; he added a
glass and a napkin to each setting and declared the table set. He didn’t need
to call for Sirius to come to the table. He had been sitting on Recouccouch cum
bed and had stood when he had heard the clink of crockery.
Sirius said nothing as he sat in his usual place at the
table and waited for Remus to serve him. Remus, though resenting Sirius’s
assumption that he would wait on him, also said nothing, ladling the weak
looking stew into the dark haired mans bowl, then into his own… there would be
enough for about aond ond half bowl. Thank god for dumplings.
Spoons clinked against bowls in silence, the same unending
silence. The soup was somewhere between hot water and vegetables and soup. The
extra salt he had added hid the worst of it, in fact Remus barely noticed.
“The soup is thin.”
When Sirius spoke Remus almost spit the food item in
question across the table, so startled was he. He let the silence linger a
moment as he slowly turned his eyes to Sirius, heart beating hard in his chest
as he resisted the urge to whip his bowl at the man.
“Thinner then what they gave you at Azkaban?” Remus snipped,
eyes hard. Sirius’s gray eyes rose to meet his, snapping with anger. It had
been a low blow and Remus knew it, but one swift kick in the bollocks deserved
another.
“Are you calling me ungrateful mate?” Sirius asked, deadly
calm.
“But of course not. Just suggesting that if you were going
to bitch and moan that you could either pitch in a bit for the groceries, or
dry you arse.” Remus replied politely.
There was a beat. Neither moved nor spoke, neither blinked,
each body tense and waiting. Then time snapped. A bowl flew across the room and
shattered in a spray of soup against a far wall, the light table was upturned,
and the rest of the crockery crashed to the floor. Remus had processed each
action in turn but before he could draw his wand, Sirius tackled him to the
floor and the length of wood went skittering across the linoleum.
Remus hit the floor with a t Sir Sirius atop him, one bony
hand on his throat, the other cuffing him across the face. The werewolf didn’t
take time to think about his actions, he arched his hips, with a hard upward
thrust bucking Sirius off balance as he pitched his weight to the side, rolling
so he now sat straddled atop of Sirius, his own hand drew back of its own
volition, the back of his hand cracking Sirius’s lips, his other hand lashing
roughly in Sirius’s hair, controlling his head with it.
They grappled rolling across the floor, each trying to keep
the upper hand as they rolled over shards of crockery and over cooked
vegetables.
“Oy! Cut it out!” Remus yelped as his head was slammed into
the floor, his elbow caught Sirius in the stomach.
“Oof! Lay off!” Soup soaked through their clothes, as they
bumped into the over turned table, legs and hands grappling for dominance. They
were a fairly even match in weight, in a way they wouldn’t have been for
Sirius’s stint in Azkaban, but Remus who was simply stronger right now won out,
pinning Sirius’s hands over his head, his legs pinning Padfoot’s.
Remus growled low in his throat a sneer of triumph marring
his lips as his cheek started to swell and bruise from the hits Sirius had
gotten in.
us, us, let me up!” Sirius suddenly felt a band of panic
tighten across his chest, he was pinned he couldn’t escape, next they would rip
his clothes off, he had to get away! “Let me up!”
“No way! You broke my dishes! Its not like I have piles of
them lying around you know. Not all of us grew up in the Black Mansion.” Remus
panted, missing the not e of panic in his ex lover’s voice.
“Fuck! Moony! Fuck! Let me up… god, please let me up!”
Sirius thrashed under him wildly. Wide-eyed Remus scrambled off him.
“Jesus, Siri, I’m sorry I didn’t think-“ The sentence was
cut off, and so nearly, was the tip of Remus’s tongue as Sirius fist smashed
into his face. Remus felt the bone of his nose crunch and he reeled backwards,
hands coming over his face as he felt a hot gush of blood poor from his nose,
filling his mouth and sinuses.
The world hitched and spun as he slumped to the floor
fighting the rolling tide of darkness washing again and again over his eyes,
turning his world to haze and silence. He didn’t remember scrambling away, but
when his vision and hearing started to come back, he found himself wedged in a
corner, hands over his mouth and nose as though he could catch it and keep it
from dripping into his robes.
Sirius watched in total and utter shock as deep-wine blood
flowed between Moony’s fingers. It wasn’t a drip, or an ooze; it was a flood,
the front of his shirt starting to soak through with the leakage from the
wizard’s hands. He had done that, he had the ache in his knuckles to prove that
to himself, but he didn’t remember it.
“Jesus…God, Remmy, shit, I’m so sorry…” Sirius rambled as he
scuttled across the kitchen floor after the tawny haired man, avoiding the
trail of blood he left.
“Fug oo.” Remus replied mushily from behind his hands.
“Yes, fine, but let’s get this taken care of first, god, I
didn’t even realize… I didn’t mean to….” Sirius couldn’t help but ramble as
snagged a dishtowel from the counter. Remus swatted at his hands twice with a
bloody palm, but Sirius dodged easily enough. Finally Remus subsided, just
leaning back as Padfoot folded the cloth over his nose, cupping it there with
tender fingers, his other hand supporting the back of Remus’s tawny head.
“I’m so sorry Remmy. Truly… I didn’t even know it was you, I
didn’t even know I had done it.” Sirius’s heart was still pounding in his
chest. Something had serious gone shite to shingle. style='mso-ansi-language:EN-IE'>The fingers of the hand supporting Remus’s head
stroked sweaty locks of hair, as the towel started to bleed through. “Oh hell…
Remmy… I hurt you badly…. Is it broken?’
“I fing
fo.”
“You think
so?”
Remus
nodded. Sirius broke off into a long string of curses and swears that made
Remus blush, and he was certainly no virgin by any stretch of the imagination.
“Can I use
your wand to fix you up? I won’t hurt you, I promise…. I’m sorry Remmy, I just
snapped… I just… I didn’t know it was you….” Sirius fumbled for the wand,
snatching it up. “Hold still, just a moment.’’
Remus
sighed as he just leaned back against the wall, his bloody hands lounging
listlessly on the floor. He felt the blood run down over his lips and did his
best not to lick it away. He didn’t favour the taste of his own blood, or any,
but it was a hard impulse to resist. Sirius pointed the wand at his listing
nose.
“Um… septus
repairo?” Sirius suggested. Remus winced knowing what came of that particular
half-baked spell was going to be unpleasant. His nose straightened into its
original position with a sickening crunch and grind. Remus grunted, trying not
to scream, the sound and feeling of his nose sliding back to normal was worse
then the actual pain. A rigid brace and a series of bandages lashed themselves
over Remus’s nose, locking it in place.
“Well at
least it didn’t fall off.” He muttered to himself.
“Shit… I’m
bollixing this all up… was that too bad? I know it’s not great but its better
then it was right? Here…” He started to wipe the blood from Remus’s face with
tender hands, muttering ‘shit’ repeatedly under his breath as he cleaned away
the worst of it.
“Stop,
Sirius, stop for the love of Merlin, before you make it any worse.” Remus
groaned. His face throbbed in a hundred places; Sirius was looking pretty
chewed up himself. “Listen… this isn’t going well. We are going to kill each
other. I should have known, should have listened to Dumbledor. I will send an
owl to him in the morning, so he can find another place to hide you. This isn’t
working.” The werewolf sat up and pulled off his blood soaked shirt and dropped
it to the side, wiping his hands off on it.
“Wait?
What? You want me to leave?” Sirius’s heart hadn’t had time to fully settle in
his chest before it started throbbing frantically again, a sinking feeling
coming over him.
“You don’t
want to be here.” Remus said with a shrug as he started to get carefully to his
feet, wincing. H moved over to the icebox and pulled open the freezer. He
tossed an ice back to Sirius and dumped some ice cubes in a plastic bag for
himself, stumbling across the kitchen to his couch and flopping down
unceremoniously. Sirius followed quickly, sitting on the floor his back against
the couch.
Sirius was
starting to see he had fucked this up, in a real big way. Even if he couldn’t
be lovers with Remus again… he needed a friend right now, needed one more then
he needed anything else. If he didn’t have some one to lean on right now, even
a little, he wouldn’t make it through. He would probably kill himself, or go
stark raving mad, or just die.
“You are
right Remus… I thought I didn’t…. I thought, mistakenly, that I would be better
on my own. The dementors Remmy… they pollute your mind… turn everything that
once was your safety net into a row of spikes. That fear of betrayal they
placed in me, is obviously still working.”
“You can’t
blame the dementors for every bad thing you do for the rest of your life.” The
bag of ice that was currently Remus’s face said.
“I’m not.
It’s my own stupidity for buying into it. Remus, I need you, as a friend. I
know that, because when you talked, just now, of turning me out… you might as
well have stabbed me… I mean, not that you don’t have every right to… because I
have been an arse… and I will continue to be an arse, but right this moment, I
am motivated, mostly by fear, to be bang on honest with you. Do you understand
me?” Sirius was speaking very quickly, wanting to get this all out before the
fear faded to numbness and he no longer cared. “I am begging you Remus… as
broken as I am, dead begginu, nu, not to turn me out, to have patients with me
to help me in spite of myself. Please? Please Remus?”
That
bloody fucking cen centred arse hole.style='mso-ansi-language:EN-IE'> Remus growled in his mind, as his heart was
tugged and twisted, and bent from shape. He couldn’t say no to that. No matter
what it cost him, he was too loyal, and too much in love, to deny that plea. He
wasn’t Judas.
“Aye, fine,
yeh fookin’ arse. I am goin’tah live tah regret dis.”
Sirius
winced as the cultured mostly British accent he normally affected lifted into a
lilting west Irish accent that was Remus’s true tone, he had really pissed the
man off. He knelt next to the couch, lifting the ice bag carefully from Remus’s
face.
“Thank you
Remus… you’ve saved my life, again. I will repay you, someday.” He bent and
kissed the pale forehead that was icy to the touch.
“I will
just put it on your tab. Now put the ice back on my face so I don’t have to
look at yours.”
style='mso-ansi-language:EN-IE'>~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I don’t
know what to do Dumbledor… I just don’t know. The man has some serious issues,
and my own unrequited love isn’t helping the bloody situation!” Remus stormed
as he paced the head masters office.
“Mind you
language, please, Remus, this is unlike you.” The aging wizard said softly as
he watched the werewolf beat a path in the floor.
“Sorry
headmaster… but… I don’t know what to do.” Remus raked a hand through his hair
roughly, sending it askew. He strode to the chair in front of Albus’s desk and
sat in it with purpose, as though willing himself to hold still. It didn’t
work, his left leg immediately started to jump aitteitter. Remus folded his
hands over it to help keep himself still as he looked at the beard across from
him, hoping for wisdom and guidance. Talking to Albus was a bit like talking to
god… or maybe it was just the beard.
“You are in
a very tough spot, Remus, very tough indeed. But it is not the first. There are
other things jading this issue, are there not?”
Remus took
a deep breath. “I still love him. I know you knew that, but… I remember waking
up every morning… for years, and hoping that when I went down to the kitchen,
he would be there, drinking coffee and reading the paper. I went to bed every
night praying that… some evidence would bund,und, that he would be cleared,
that I would have my friends and lover back, or at least one of them.
But….Albus… there never was, no one came back… until now.”
“But it
wasn’t the reunion you expected?” One white caterpillar eyebrow rose.
“It was
what I expected, but not what I wanted. We’ve spent the last week not even on
speaking terms. He broke my nose the other day…”
“He hit
you?” The other furry caterpillar jointed the first.
“No, I mean
yes, but not like that… we got in a row… just a harmless boys tussle… but I
pinned him… he snapped… They did things to him in Azkaban.” Remus’s sighed and
caught his hand on the way up to rake through his hair again. He stopped it and
returned it to his lap; if he didn’t stop tearing through his hair like that he
would go bald.
“Yes… the
Dementors didn’t used to be allowed to do that. Times have changed.” Albus
sighed and shook his head. Remus had a feeling though that despite the calm
gesture, the old Wizard had had more then row with the ministry over the issue.
“He needs
me but he doesn’t want me. I love him yet, headmaster.”
“Remus….
Dear Remus, I remember you when you were nothing but skinned knees and torn
robes. I have seen you over come the impossible. I have seen you become a man,
with an integrity and honesty that I have seen exemplified in only a very few,
and you have done it in spite the Wizarding Worlds worst prejudges. I have
utter faith in your ability.”
Remus felt
tears well in his eyes, tears that had been absent for ten years or more; a
well that he thought futapptapped brimming anew. “You know just what you are
doing don’t you? You play with our lives… my life. I know you hold genuine
tenderness for Harry… as you did for his father and godfather, but you move us
like pieces on a board, rooks and knights and bishops… and me. The pawn. You
know what you do and you hide it behind a big beard and soft eyes. But I have
always been your tool and crusade, and you know I will do what you wish with
out you asking… because you have given me some semblance of respect and left me
my dignity, and so pitiful am I that I will subsist on that. But do not tell me
you have always had my best interest at heart, I would not have you perjure
yourself and my intelligence.” Remus took a deep breath and steadied himself,
hands now gripping the arms of his chair as he looked beyond the white hair
that was the wizards face, body tense.
“My denial
will do neither of us any good, because you would not believe it and it would
not be whole truth. I have had to make many decisions not for the good of one,
but for the good of all. But don’t be fool in thinking you were with out say,
you have always been given a choice.” Dumbledor said evenly, his voice steady
and gentle as he looked over the rims of his half moon glasses.
“And what
choice is there in desperation?” Remus shot back, jaw so tight his teeth hurt.
“And I
would ask you the same. What choice is there in desperation and in desperate
times? We all do our best Remus.” Dumbledor brushed his hands together as
though washing away the issue, passing it off, letting it go. He picked up a
pouch from the corner of his desk and looked at it, then at Remus.
“Don’t you
dare give that to me.” Remus growled, hearing the galleons clinking inside.
“Do not
further insult me-“
“No. Do not
further insult me, Remus. I think you have said entirely enough today. I know
how you feel about charity, and I give you none. These are galleons from Sirius
bank vault, you used to let him contribute in half to the household, as I
recall, has that changed?”
“No.” Remus
slumped back in his chair, closing his eyes. Check and mate.
“Good. Then
here. You are feeding both of you after all. And I doubt the odd jobs you do
for the neighbouring farms will cover both your continued sustenance. I will
send a sum by owl from Sirius’s vault once a month.” Dumbledor held out the
pouch and Remus took it, slipping it into his robes. “Is there anything else
you feel that needs to be said, Remus?”
Remus
looked over the old man, ginger eyes taking in his god like visage. “Yes. I am
sorry headmaster… I let my mouth run faster then my brain. My apologise.”
“No apology
necessary. Life has been no easier on you then it has on any of us… maybe less
so. I do have faith in you.’’
“Thank you
sir.” Remus stood on weak knees. “Have a good day.”
“You as
well Remus, you as well.”
style='mso-ansi-language:EN-IE'>~*~*~*~*~*~*~
style='mso-ansi-language:EN-IE'>
“What would
you like for dinner? We have groceries… not steak or anything, mind, but enough
ingredients for things other then soup.” Remus asked from where he stood
surveying the cupboards.
“Do we have
some pasta, maybe?” Sirius asked hopefully, peering over the back of the couch
where he was sprawled. “Or potatoes?”
“Pasta,
potatoes, rice, vegetables, ground beef, stew meat, chicken, corn meal…”
“How about
just chicken breasts or something, with rice and vegetables.” Sirius suggested.
The
facsimile of normalcy that they were living under was a good site better then
the cold war of the week before, but it wasn’t comfortable, not really. The had
fallen into some sort of schedule, as much as could be had when Remus’s work
consisted of mucking stalls and hauling hay for the surrounding farms. Just
enough to keep himself in clothes and food. Albus had not insulted him by
giving him an extravagant amount of wizarding money, his budgeting would have
to be careful, but that part he was used to.
They
addressed each other with painful formality a careful dance around the
shattered eggshells heirheir former life together. No more Remmy and Siri, or
Padfoot and Moony. Only Sirius and Remus… or sometimes ‘mate’ in their more
casual moments. They still spoke rarely, largely out of lack of having any
words to say to each other, no words to bridge the gap of years.
“Sure thing
Mate.” Remus nodded, moving about to gather the things for the requested meal.
He heard Sirius rise from the couch; they often cooked the evening meal
together in a certain nostalgic way.
They moved
around each other from stove to fridge, fridge to sink, carefully choreographed
so not even their robes touched, never in a position that contact might become
a possibility. The scent of the baking chicken and sautéing vegetables filled
the small cabin as they continued their silent dance. The table was set, water
was poured into clear glasses, the food was served, each sitting gracefully and
unfolding their napkins on their lap like it was a formal dinner, and the
silverware wasn’t mismatched.
Remus got
through three slowly chewed bites in silence before Sirius voice carried like
thunder on the wind, the quiet, deep rolling, that took a moment to process and
believe.
“You never
came to see me in Azkaban.”
Remus
chewed the rice in his mouth carefully, as though it were a choking hazard and
the question was unimportant, before answering, slowly. “Would you have wanted
me to?”
“I don’t
know… it would have given me hope.” Sirius shrugged, pushing around his
vegetables.
“There is
no hope in that place.”
“There
would have been if I had seen you.”
A long
pause stretched silence around the room as thick as stirred cream. Remus took a
bite of chicken like dust in his mouth. He washed it down with bitter water.
“And if it had been me in there?”
“I would
not have come. You would have gone mad in days. The wolf…” Sirius trailed off,
not sure if he was still allowed the privilege of speaking to that aspect to
Remus’s nature.
“I don’t
think I would have made it to Azkaban. I think I would have had an accident on
the way there.” Remus shrugged. “I thought you were guilty.”
“I thought
I was too.”
“I don’t
know how to help you.” Remus took another drink of water, washing down barely
tasted vegetables.
“I don’t
know either… don’t loose hope in me. I need your faith.” Sirius swallowed
convulsively.
“I have no
faith to lend.” Remus shrugged and stood bring his plate to the sink, standing
there long, with his back to Sirius. “You have nightmares.”
“You’ve
stopped waking me from them.” It was hard to tell if their was hurt in Sirius’s
voice. Remus suspected there was.
“I thought
I was unwelcome.”
“Yes. But
when has that ever stopped you. You’ve never let others desires stop you from
doing what you think needs to be done.” Sirius stood as well, leaving his plate
as he moved over to Remus, touching a patch of grey in ginger hair.
“Do not. Do
not give me your touch when you will take it back in a moment.” Remus’s voice
was soft, calm… agony.
“Will you
give me yours then?” Sirius asked softly, almost pleaded, his breath held as he
waited.
Remus
turned to the man slowly, looking over the boy he once knew, grown to a man,
and headed for middle age. He saw grey where it wasn’t before, lines where it
had once been smooth, bone where there had once been muscle… and pain where
there had once been love.
“As if I
could deny you anything.” Remus whispered. His hand came up of its own
volition, smoothing a stray strand from Sirius’s face, before embracing him
gently, tucking the mans head against his shoulder as he felt him tremble.
“Maybe you
should.” Sirius voice cracked on the edge of tears, his shoulders shook with
barely bridled emotion.
“Never.”
Remus gathered him close in loose arms, so that Sirius wouldn’t feel
restrained. There was a soft breaking sound, a deep drawing of breath before
Sirius trembled in silent tears as thunder rolled in the hills.
Authors
Note: Yikes, well that took a bit o’ time. I have no idea if its canon to have
Remus be Irish, but, I wanted to so there :P We have no idea where Remus is
from, so I don’t see how it can be uncanon. Anyway, I also happen to be looking
for a beta for my Sirius/Remus work. Anyone who wants the dubious honour, drop
me a line gypsysenigma@aol.com .
Thanks for your patients.