Remus J. Lupin, Lawless Bookseller. (didntfoundrome) wrote in cm_history, @ 2009-08-13 22:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | [1979] september, [char] remus lupin, [char] sirius black |
September 7, 1979: Bad Moon Rising
Who: Remus Lupin and Sirius Black
When: September 7, 1979; The day after the full moon.
Where: Their two-bedroom flat in
What: An argument, one of many, concerning the dangerous nature of Sirius Black's occupation. Given the job description, this is obviously a touchy subject for Remus Lupin.
Rating: PG for impending expletives?
Remus awoke that September morning in a place he had known for many years, a place he had visited regularly since boyhood, but the sight of which carried none of the comforting warmth often associated with familiarity. He was well-acquainted with his concrete transformation cell in the ill-lit basement of the ministry, but one never really adjusted to waking up on the cold cement floor, greeted by little more that the metallic smell of blood (your blood) and a heavy iron door illuminated only by slices of dim sunlight through the clerestory windows.
The crick in his neck and general achiness caused by sleeping on the concrete floor paled in comparison to the sharp, nasty sting from the angry red scratches and bites that now decorated his pale skin. He looked like he'd lost a fight with a very angry action painter and felt even worse, but he would heal quickly. Even so, it was with a heavy sigh and a groan of discomfort that he finally arose, putting on the clothes that lay folded next to the door, slipped through a thin slot in the door once the moon had finally disappeared from the sky. Once dressed, he walked out of the door with a bit of a limp. He'd bitten himself in the shin and calf muscle again, and if memory served, it probably wouldn't be properly healed until tomorrow morning. Still, it could have been worse. The pain would dull, the wounds would heal, and soon, there would be nothing left but the scars.
Exhausted as he was, pleasant thoughts of his bed filled his mind as he made his way down the hall, up the ministry lift and into the lobby. Pulling his wand out of the pocket of his robes, Remus apparated into the kitchen of the appartment he shared with Sirius, who was probably already back by now. Sirius always got back before he did, he thought, glancing at the clock over the stove.
10:45.
Sirius would have gotten back a while ago, not long after the sun had come up. "Sirius!" Remus called loudly, slowly making his way through the small living room as he scanned the area for some sign of the other boy, "I'm back. Do you know if we still have any murtlap essence?" The flat, he noticed, was nearly as clean as it had been when he left it, which was nothing if not highly suspect, given his friend's uncanny aptitude for destroying complex organizational systems in a matter of seconds. Between that and the very audible silence that filled the room, something he'd long since signed away his right to by deciding to room with Sirius, Remus felt suddenly ill-at-ease.
"Sirius!" He called again, though this time was considerably louder than the first. His brow furrowed in concern and his heartrate increased slightly as he made his way past the bathroom and his friend's bedroom door, both of which were wide open revealing rooms clearly devoid of Sirius. He called his friend again, shouting his name louder still. Realizing that Sirius sometimes liked to sleep on his bed instead - though this usually involved large amounts of alcohol and pursuant directional disorientation - Remus had even searched his own room, looking under the bed for some trace of Padfoot amidst the stacks of books. He turned up nothing. There was no indication that Sirius had graced the flat with his presence. Not even, say, to scavenge for food before he headed back out, deciding to accept his assertion that the turkey was bad and getting breakfast elsewhere.
And that was when panic began to set in.
If it had been any other person but Sirius, or any other day of the month, Remus would not have been worried. Well, in the interest of full disclosure, he would have been a bit worried, as a constant state of mild concern is part of the nature of his existence, but still. He might have hobbled off to bed and slept on and off until work the next morning, waking occasionally to eat a handful of soda crackers or swallow a mouthful of some vile concoction designed to make his skin and bones to regrow more rapidly. But it wasn't. It was Sirius, who had an incredibly dangerous job with the Werewolf Capture Unit, and it was the night after the full moon, and he still wasn't back.
12:36.
Remus sat on the couch nearest to the front door, attempting in vain to regulate his own breathing and keep his mind from wandering to numerous horrific scenarios that might have caused Sirius's tardiness.
14:05.
Remus made himself a black tea to calm his nerves.
14:17.
Unfortunately, his hands were shaking so badly that he ended up spilling about half of said black tea on his shirt and had to change.
15:40.
Remus attempted to read something in the hopes of distracting himself.
16:03.
After reading the same sentence on the third page of The Moviegoer a good thirteen times and retaining absolutely nothing, the attempt was abandoned.
By 16:30, Remus finally gave up on sleeping or getting anything done prior to the boy's return, and decided instead to lay on the couch, looking somehow less relaxed in a reclining position than when he was standing. His hands, clasped together across his stomach, were white-knuckled from the strength of his grip. If Sirius didn't arrive soon, Remus was nearly prepared to go looking for him at the ministry. Or the hospital. Or a wood somewhere, mangled by angry werewolves.
Why did England have so many damn woods?