|kat_scratches (kat_scratches) wrote in ficbits,|
@ 2007-08-03 23:10:00
|Entry tags:||hp, pg, remus/sirius|
HP fic "The Morning After The Night Before" (PG)
Title: The Morning After The Night Before
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the characters. I just borrow them on occasion.
Summary: Sirius' thoughts after the first time he witnesses Remus' monthly transformation.
The Morning After The Night Before
When it's finally over, Remus lies naked and bleeding on the floor of the Shack, not even noticing how tenderly Sirius picks him up and rests him on the bed. It isn't much of a bed, hardly more than a stained and threadbare mattress with a bit of mold at the edges, but it serves its purpose. It's still softer than the floor, though not by much.
So much blood... The floor is sticky with it, and the cloying coppery smell of it makes the Shack seem like an abattoir. Sirius never knew a person could bleed so much and still be alive afterwards.
But then, he'd never watched as a fifteen-year-old boy turned into a werewolf, either.
The Shrieking Shack isn't really haunted; it never was. All the horrible noises that the villagers thought were spirits -- they were only made by Remus during the pain of his monthly transformations. Now that he has seen it, Sirius understands. He feels more than a bit like doing a spot of shrieking himself.
He almost wishes they'd never learned the Animagus spell, that he and James and Peter were still back in First Year and oblivious to Remus' lycanthropy. He'd been so afraid, Sirius had, when they first tried it out. No brave Gryffindor he, afraid he'd do it wrong, or not be able to at all, or that his Animagus would turn out to be something werewolves would rather have for a snack.
But instead of the rabbit he'd feard, it was a dog. A huge, shaggy, black mutt.
"Bloody hell, mate," James had said, he and Peter staring slack-jawed as Sirius bounded his new form across the room. "You're a fucking Grim!"
He'd been afraid, too, that he'd forget how to transform once he was alone with Remus in the Shack. He hadn't wanted to be the only one there, not on his first time, not when he had no idea what to expect. But James was laid up in the infirmary with the flu, and Peter hadn't quite yet mastered the spell.
It turns out that Sirius makes a terrible Grim. A Grim is supposed to be fierce and terrifying, a renowned omen of impending doom and death, not a whimpering puppy who cowers in the corner while werewolf bones break and reform under his friend's skin.
Sirius had watched in horror as Remus-wolf bit and scratched at himself, tearing viciously at his own flesh in an effort to quell the bloodlust in him. And Sirius-dog was powerless to stop him.
Sirius realizes that he is still shaking, although the moon has long set and the sun is sending bright rays into the Shack. What, he wonders, was the point of becoming Animagi if we can't be any help?
Slowly he becomes aware of Remus' eyes on him. "You're awake," Sirius says.
"You stayed," Remus whispers. "You really stayed." A ghost of a smile flits across his lips as his eyes close again.
Sirius sits carefully at the edge of the mattress. With one hand he brushes Remus' tawny hair out of his eyes, frowning at the new cuts. Deep scratches - welts, really - adorn one cheek, crisscrossing over top of the faint white lines of old scars.
A lump rises in Sirius' throat and he chokes it back, ashamed of his earlier fears. It's still Remus, he thinks. I could have distracted him. Dog and wolf - it's not so different. I could have kept this from happening.
He leans close to Remus' ear, his breath feathering the other boy's hair. "Next time," he promises, "it will be better."
"It already is," Remus says, finally drifting off to sleep.