InsaneJournal

Fic: As a Raven's Wing (3/?; PG)
Title:As a Raven's Wing
Chapter: 3: "Rescue"
Author: Omni (rip_von_christ on lj)
Rating: PG (for this chapter...later chapters will vary)
Warnings: Can be considered crack (though not the whacky sort), blatant and not-so-blatant comic book knock-offs, unbetaed
Prompts: Batman, costumes (by zhyn and azurerosa in chat, respectively)
Summary: Munin is a mysterious figure. A brilliant mind, he assists the Aurors on occasion, especially when dealing with the odder cases. No one knows who he really is, though. They only know him as the man in black flowing robes and a raven mask.
Word Count: 1,700+
Note: Magical AU. Pretty much take the HP world, but remove the actual HP stories and replace them with tales like you'd see in the pages of a comic book.

BONUS! MORE COMIC-ESQUE ART! THREE PICTURES, THIS TIME!

Chapter 1
Chapter 2



We'll start off with a comic book style (sort of...gah, I fail at this) Remus. The other two images will be displayed in the chapter itself, since they are illustrations of specific scenes.


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No one was home at the Parkinson house, and the only wards were the ones set by Shacklebolt. The same fine layer of residue lined the interior of Mr. Parkinson’s wardrobe. Some of it was even on the exterior, and splattered in an outward pattern on the well-worn decorative rug.

A charm had allowed Munin to see the residue in the blue-tinged darkness of the deserted room. To his eyes, the stains appeared to glow a faded, sickly green. After memorizing the scene, he went to work collecting every last drop.

It was as he made a second sweep of the room in search of extra clues that he felt the burn on his left forearm. Shacklebolt was summoning him. Stepping literally into a nearby shadow, Munin hoped this didn’t mean there’d been another victim.

The scene which greeted him as he emerged from a shadow behind Shacklebolt was not quite what he had expected.

Banshee stood in front of the Ministry building, clutching a hostage with a wand point to his neck, and screeching in a way that left little wonder as to how she’d obtained her nickname. Aurors were doing their best to keep the gawking spectators at bay, while Shacklebolt was doing a futile job of trying to reason with the woman. Banshee and her hostage were spotlighted by the streetlamps, and in that glaring light Munin was able to clearly identify the terrified man in her arms. Remus Lupin.



Between incoherent screams, Banshee seemed to be forming actual words. Something along the lines of “Who did it? Who? Who damaged Lucius and made Cissy cry? Which of you bastards did it?” Although printed words do not do the method of delivery justice. Even if they were done up in all capitals, bold, italics, and underscored, they still would not adequately represent the level and intensity of each ear-bleeding syllable. Munin nearly cringed in sympathy for Lupin’s eardrums. Nearly.

Using the night as cover, he shifted closer to Shacklebolt. “At least we know for certain it wasn’t Death Mask, now,” he said, pitching his voice so only the Head Auror could hear. He did not wish to alert anyone else to his presence.

Shacklebolt did nothing to acknowledge he’d heard aside from a barely perceptible inclination of his head.

“We’re investigating his case, Lestrange,” Shacklebolt assured in his deep, booming voice. Its timbre was like a soothing balm after listening to Banshee’s cries. “Rest assured that his attacker will be found and put to justice.”

“Justice!” she screeched. “Justice?! Your justice is weak! Trials and waiting and then he’ll likely get off on a technicality!”

“She would certainly know,” muttered Munin. Shacklebolt had to fight back a smirk.

“It was one of you, wasn’t it! Is it not enough you constantly harass him, raiding his home and slandering his name! Now you must break his mind?! Villains! All of you are villains!”

“I wonder if she actually hears the words coming from her mouth? Perhaps she’s deafened herself from her ceaseless wailing...” Again Munin’s commentary had Shacklebolt biting the inside of his cheek to hide his amusement.

As if sensing that she wasn’t being taken seriously enough, Banshee dug her wand harder into Lupin’s neck and began spewing death threats. Death to the Aurors, to the Minister, to the spectators. It was once she started earnestly threatening Lupin’s life that Munin decided they had dallied long enough.

She had certainly killed before, so he wouldn’t put it past her to slaughter the werewolf right there in front of them all. In her twisted mind, she likely thought that would really help with discovering Lucius’ attacker. Hell, she probably thought it would somehow help heal him. There was no more time to lose.

“I will disarm her and remove the hostage. As soon as he is clear, take her down.”

Shacklebolt gave a slow blink in confirmation, and Munin put his calculating mind to work.

Eyeing the madwoman, he stepped back into the shadows. As he appeared silently behind her, he was unseen by all within the pitch black shadows. Banshee had no idea he was there, too busy watching all the Aurors and preparing to cast a curse right into Lupin’s jugular if they so much as sneezed. A flick of his wand and a whispered word, and Banshee was trailing off in her screeching rants. She stood there dazed, as if awakening from a trance and trying to recall how she’d come to be there. Her arms released her hostage, and her wand clattered to the pavement from out of her lax fingers. The momentary disorientation was enough to allow Munin to make a move.

Sinking into the blackness surrounding him, Munin traveled to the shadows directly beneath Banshee and her hostage. Only his arms materialized from the darkness, seeming to reach up from the pavement below and grab hold of Lupin’s legs. Soon he had the other man sinking down into the shadows to join him, and he transported them both away from there.

When they emerged beneath a tree in a secluded woods, Lupin was clinging in fear to Munin’s robes. Munin had his arms around Lupin’s body, but only out of necessity—he’d had to be in as much contact with the other man as possible in order to safely transport them both. It took Lupin a moment to realize that they were safe and alone and he was no longer at risk of losing his head. Even so, his hands did not leave Munin’s chest; they merely relaxed to press warmly at the hard muscle instead of crush the layers of black cloth.

“Where are we?” he asked, looking around briefly before staring in wonder at the masked face before him.

“Somewhere safe.”

“This isn’t London.”

“No. Wiltshire.”

Lupin’s eyes widened and he looked around again. “How? Did we apparate? It didn’t feel like we did…”

“No. We moved through the shadows.”

“Through the—how? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Lupin’s fingers splayed and he pressed closer. Munin felt muscle and bone shift beneath his fingers, and he slid his hands down Lupin’s spine to rest at his lower back.

“A spell of my own design,” he confessed. Never before had he told anyone the secret of his silent movements. The way Lupin’s eyes lit up with shock and admiration were worth it, he decided.

“Amazing,” Lupin whispered. “I’ve heard of you, but I never imagined you’d be so…incredible.”

“I’m merely a man.”

“Indeed you are.” Munin couldn’t be certain, but it sounded as if Lupin’s voice had dropped an octave and became huskier than usual.



It finally sank in how they were standing, and the greedy way his arms were keeping Lupin close, but Munin found it surprisingly difficult to release him. “Would you like me to take you back to London? If there is a specific location you desire, I could attempt to bring you there. Or, at the very least, as near to it as possible.”

“Quite the gentleman, aren’t you? First you rescue me, and then you offer to escort me home. I’m afraid I’ve no idea how I can ever repay you.”

“There’s no need to repay me. I do not work for compensation.”

“No, I suppose you don’t. Why do you do it, Munin? Out of the goodness of your heart? What drives you?”

Flashes of memories raced through his mind like lightning, and the pain of it ripped his arms away from Lupin, forcing him to take a step back. “I have my reasons.” Red hair and laughter and green eyes that will never open again.

“I’m sorry,” Lupin said, and looked it. He reached out and tried to touch Munin again, but the cloaked man took another step away. “It is not my place to pry. You don’t even know me.”

“Do not worry yourself over it.” An awkwardness seeped into a scene that had moments ago been pleasantly charged. He wondered if Lupin would still wish him to transport them, or if the man would simply disapparate.

Much to his surprise, Lupin seemed in no hurry to leave. Quite the opposite. He eyed Munin for a moment, and then once again tried to regain some of their previous closeness. “I’m Remus, by the way. Remus Lupin.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lupin.”

“Remus. Please, call me Remus.”

“Remus.” And oh, how strange that felt to say. So strange and wonderful. It was a liberty he did not feel he could take as the man he was without the mask. In fact, he was starting to suspect he would be able to take several liberties as Munin that he’d be denied as Severus.

Lupin smiled brightly at him and took yet another step closer. “I really am thankful for what you’ve done tonight,” he repeated.

Before Munin could voice another rehashed response, he was startled into silence by the feel of Lupin sliding his arms around his neck and pressing his body close. He whispered an address into the fabric of Munin’s cloak at his ear, and Munin realized Lupin was merely requesting he be taken home. Wrapping his arms back around the other man, Munin concentrated on the street named.

They stumbled through one shadow and out of the next with an embarrassing lack of grace, Munin being unaccustomed to traveling with a partner, and the two of them pressed too closely to move easily. A brick wall prevented them from making bigger fools of themselves and falling on their arses. It also caused Lupin to be sandwiched between the bricks and Munin’s body. He felt the man arch subtly against him, and heard the stuttered breath Lupin tried to hide.

“You are so very much not what I had expected,” Lupin said softly, in a voice that couldn’t even be considered a whisper it was so quiet.

“What did you expect?” Munin asked just as quietly.

“Someone more interested in the damsels in distress.”

“Who’s to say I’m not?”

“Am I off the mark? Really?” Lupin bowed his back again and pressed his cheek into the side of Munin’s mask. For the first time in his life, Munin wished he was naked of his cloak and mask, even if that would make him Severus.

Big-nosed, greasy-haired, ugly…Severus.

He was out of Lupin’s arms and disappearing into a shadow before the other man could even register he’d moved.

Stepping into his darkened bedroom at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Severus tore off his mask and tossed it angrily to the corner. Fool, fool, fool, a hundred times a fool!

No one would ever want him as he truly was.

Least of all Remus Lupin.

_________________
To be continued...


Chapter 4