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queerditch_pub drabbles
Sep. 19th, 2004 09:57 pmrynneFirst of all:
Last week, the temperate was in the eighties and nineties. Or if not last week, at least the week before.
Today? Forty-five degrees fahrenheit.
Why isn't this year over so I can move away?
Anyway, the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
queerditch_pub drabbles! A blanket G rating, aside from the third, which I would count a PG-13/R. Theme today was song lyrics.
*
Remus had to work at being mysterious. Sirius just was.
Remus weaved a cloak of mystery around himself, one that only the determined would be able to pierce, and maybe if they were that determined then they wouldn’t care what Remus was hiding.
But Sirius…Sirius waved off questions with a laugh and a joke, and soon had everyone around him laughing too, and never even noticing that he didn’t answer the question. Sirius talked about everyone else, until they basked under the glow of him, and didn’t even notice that he didn’t talk about himself.
Remus noticed, of course. He did the same thing that Sirius did, only with less skill—dissembling didn’t come as easily to him now as he would have liked, but looking at Sirius, one would think that he’d been doing it his entire life. But having been trying to hide himself so hard, he was able to recognize it in others, and Sirius was a classic example of one obscuring himself.
Sirius, whenever asked about it, would always distract, though. And lately they were very distracting—soft kisses stolen in the night, caresses fit to drive memory of being out of one’s mind…Sirius was very skillful. Remus refused to be distracted, though, and eventually, he knew, he would get behind Sirius’s barriers, find the emotions swirling behind those dark eyes, and Sirius wouldn’t have to hide anymore.
*
Sirius always thought he was free.
He wasn’t, of course. Not now, not in the future, and never in the past. But he thought he was, and that was what counted.
He thought he was free to buy a motorbike and enchant it to fly, never mind laws otherwise. The motorbike just contributed to his freedom, and didn’t hurt anything, so why not?
Sirius thought he was free to say anything he liked, because if you couldn’t speak your mind, what could you do? If you couldn’t share your thoughts, then what could you share? Yes, Sirius was definitely free to say whatever he liked.
And Sirius knew he was free to love Remus, whatever stupid Muggle laws and enforcers said, because they didn’t know his Remus and never would, and would never understand how impossible it was to not love him. And whatever anyone said, Sirius knew that he was free to love whoever he liked, because it was his heart, and no one but Remus had ever had that kind of control over it.
Sirius was free. So free that he felt he could fly, even without the aid of motorbike or broom. He was free to soar, free to dive…and free to pretend that there were no walls around him and Dementors did not guard his doors, and that he was flying with Remus amongst the stars. He was always free to pretend.
*
Bellatrix was a thief, and a good one. She stole the minds of the Longbottoms, the hearts of the Lestranges, and the lives of so many that she didn’t care to remember their names, if she ever knew them.
But Bellatrix never thought that she would be the one defending herself from a thief, or perhaps not even trying to defend. And Ginny Weasley was a better thief than Bellatrix, to have taken Tom Riddle’s soul when she was eleven and still have part of it in her keeping, and that was why Bellatrix was no allowed to kill her.
But her Lord never said anything about torture, and there were so many ways. Bellatrix’s favorite was pleasure so intense it was painful, because then the victims would keep coming back for more of their own accords, and writhe beneath her naked body and love it. Ginny Weasley was no different.
Bellatrix was the better thief after all, she knew. How could Ginny best her when Ginny was gasping and moaning beneath her?
But Ginny knew she had stolen the key to something Bellatrix had never thought about, and so never noticed. The Black family’s black widow never thought about her heart, of course…
*
Of course it was Tom. It was always Tom. Tom, whispering in his heart and his mind and his soul, bringing out the shadows.
Hello, Darkness, Harry said, as if greeting it would make it embrace him.
My old friend, Tom said fondly, and he smiled at Harry.
Inside a dream, they danced with Darkness and each other, Tom holding Harry close, and Harry could see shadows reflected in Tom’s eyes.
It’s more than a dream, now, Tom said.
I’m glad, Harry replied. Tom was holding him and Darkness was embracing him and the shadows were surrounding him, and it felt like home. Tom had always been there with him, with that everpresent connection with a lightningtouched scar, and Tom was there for him still.
With Darkness and shadows and Tom…always with Tom…he wasn’t alone, and never would be again.
*
They were the only ones left, really.
James was gone. Peter was gone. Lily and Frank and Alice and Dorcas and Gideon and Fabian…they were gone.
Sirius and Remus remained, but even they weren’t sure how much of them was still there.
Parts of them were lost. They weren’t the laughing schoolboys they had been, convinced they could take on the world and win. They’d been kicked by life, and weren’t sure they could stand yet, even if they knew they could kneel.
It was hard, sometimes, to figure out what they still had, when they didn’t have much and didn’t want to think about what they’d lost. Even one thing they knew now that they had…finding it out had cost Sirius some of his pride, creeping through Remus’s door in the night to be held and to have the nightmares soothed away, and Sirius needed his pride.
Though it was a comfort, knowing that they had at least this left…even if it should turn out that it was all that remained.
Last week, the temperate was in the eighties and nineties. Or if not last week, at least the week before.
Today? Forty-five degrees fahrenheit.
Why isn't this year over so I can move away?
Anyway, the
queerditch_pub drabbles! A blanket G rating, aside from the third, which I would count a PG-13/R. Theme today was song lyrics.*
Remus had to work at being mysterious. Sirius just was.
Remus weaved a cloak of mystery around himself, one that only the determined would be able to pierce, and maybe if they were that determined then they wouldn’t care what Remus was hiding.
But Sirius…Sirius waved off questions with a laugh and a joke, and soon had everyone around him laughing too, and never even noticing that he didn’t answer the question. Sirius talked about everyone else, until they basked under the glow of him, and didn’t even notice that he didn’t talk about himself.
Remus noticed, of course. He did the same thing that Sirius did, only with less skill—dissembling didn’t come as easily to him now as he would have liked, but looking at Sirius, one would think that he’d been doing it his entire life. But having been trying to hide himself so hard, he was able to recognize it in others, and Sirius was a classic example of one obscuring himself.
Sirius, whenever asked about it, would always distract, though. And lately they were very distracting—soft kisses stolen in the night, caresses fit to drive memory of being out of one’s mind…Sirius was very skillful. Remus refused to be distracted, though, and eventually, he knew, he would get behind Sirius’s barriers, find the emotions swirling behind those dark eyes, and Sirius wouldn’t have to hide anymore.
*
Sirius always thought he was free.
He wasn’t, of course. Not now, not in the future, and never in the past. But he thought he was, and that was what counted.
He thought he was free to buy a motorbike and enchant it to fly, never mind laws otherwise. The motorbike just contributed to his freedom, and didn’t hurt anything, so why not?
Sirius thought he was free to say anything he liked, because if you couldn’t speak your mind, what could you do? If you couldn’t share your thoughts, then what could you share? Yes, Sirius was definitely free to say whatever he liked.
And Sirius knew he was free to love Remus, whatever stupid Muggle laws and enforcers said, because they didn’t know his Remus and never would, and would never understand how impossible it was to not love him. And whatever anyone said, Sirius knew that he was free to love whoever he liked, because it was his heart, and no one but Remus had ever had that kind of control over it.
Sirius was free. So free that he felt he could fly, even without the aid of motorbike or broom. He was free to soar, free to dive…and free to pretend that there were no walls around him and Dementors did not guard his doors, and that he was flying with Remus amongst the stars. He was always free to pretend.
*
Bellatrix was a thief, and a good one. She stole the minds of the Longbottoms, the hearts of the Lestranges, and the lives of so many that she didn’t care to remember their names, if she ever knew them.
But Bellatrix never thought that she would be the one defending herself from a thief, or perhaps not even trying to defend. And Ginny Weasley was a better thief than Bellatrix, to have taken Tom Riddle’s soul when she was eleven and still have part of it in her keeping, and that was why Bellatrix was no allowed to kill her.
But her Lord never said anything about torture, and there were so many ways. Bellatrix’s favorite was pleasure so intense it was painful, because then the victims would keep coming back for more of their own accords, and writhe beneath her naked body and love it. Ginny Weasley was no different.
Bellatrix was the better thief after all, she knew. How could Ginny best her when Ginny was gasping and moaning beneath her?
But Ginny knew she had stolen the key to something Bellatrix had never thought about, and so never noticed. The Black family’s black widow never thought about her heart, of course…
*
Of course it was Tom. It was always Tom. Tom, whispering in his heart and his mind and his soul, bringing out the shadows.
Hello, Darkness, Harry said, as if greeting it would make it embrace him.
My old friend, Tom said fondly, and he smiled at Harry.
Inside a dream, they danced with Darkness and each other, Tom holding Harry close, and Harry could see shadows reflected in Tom’s eyes.
It’s more than a dream, now, Tom said.
I’m glad, Harry replied. Tom was holding him and Darkness was embracing him and the shadows were surrounding him, and it felt like home. Tom had always been there with him, with that everpresent connection with a lightningtouched scar, and Tom was there for him still.
With Darkness and shadows and Tom…always with Tom…he wasn’t alone, and never would be again.
*
They were the only ones left, really.
James was gone. Peter was gone. Lily and Frank and Alice and Dorcas and Gideon and Fabian…they were gone.
Sirius and Remus remained, but even they weren’t sure how much of them was still there.
Parts of them were lost. They weren’t the laughing schoolboys they had been, convinced they could take on the world and win. They’d been kicked by life, and weren’t sure they could stand yet, even if they knew they could kneel.
It was hard, sometimes, to figure out what they still had, when they didn’t have much and didn’t want to think about what they’d lost. Even one thing they knew now that they had…finding it out had cost Sirius some of his pride, creeping through Remus’s door in the night to be held and to have the nightmares soothed away, and Sirius needed his pride.
Though it was a comfort, knowing that they had at least this left…even if it should turn out that it was all that remained.
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no subject
Date: 2004-09-19 10:14 pm (UTC)Wow.
Have nothing to offer except applause and chocolate. So...*claps and bakes you cookies* <3!
no subject
Date: 2004-09-20 03:58 am (UTC)The others are great as well. I'm in love with stories of freedom, flying and Sirius, and yours is a very good one!
And Harry/Tom is so strangely fascinating, and sounds chillingly true...