[ficlet] A Rat's Life
Jul. 3rd, 2004 05:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rynneShort ficlet I wrote. Not R/S, though for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
louve_mae anyway, if she likes it. Happy belated birthday ^_^. Also somewhat dedicated to the pet rat I had several years ago, may she rest in peace.
Title: A Rat's Life
Rating: G
Pairings: none. Finally, some gen! Dude, is there a genfic community?
Summary: Peter...isn't all that enthusiastic that his Animagus form is a rat, of all things. So Remus tells him a story...
A rat…
Peter sat on his bed, twirling his hands and trying not to think about a lot of things. James and Sirius were still drinking butterbeer, celebrating. They’d offered him a bottle and, still crowing over their recent accomplishment, hadn’t seemed to notice when he refused. Every once in a while, James would pop into a young stag, or Sirius into that Grim of his, and then they’d pop back and laugh. They loved their Animagus forms.
Peter did not want to be a rat.
“You know,” a voice above him suddenly said, and Remus sat down beside him on his bed, pulling his legs up and crossing them under him, “I had a pet rat once.”
Peter blinked, wondering where this was going. Remus had had a pet rat, so what? Rats were pets…unconsciously, Peter wrinkled his nose, but Remus didn’t seem to notice.
“It was before I came here, of course,” Remus continued, as Peter mentally shrugged and decided to just listen to the story, since Remus was obviously intent on telling it. “It was a year or so after I was bitten, and my parents thought that maybe having a small animal to take care of might take my mind off things. And it wasn’t like I’d be able to hurt it, not when I was out in the shed and the rat was inside the house, so they weren’t worried about that. Not that I would have hurt it anyway, I don’t think. I’ve never really had the urge to hurt mice that have found their way to me somehow.”
Peter smiled slightly, at that. It was the whole reason they’d done it, of course, that werewolves didn’t hurt other animals.
“Back then, I didn’t have much contact with anyone else,” Remus went on, shifting his position slightly. “My parents always seemed to be afraid that someone would figure out what I was, so the rat served doubly, to take my mind off being a werewolf by caring for it, and by being my friend.”
“Why’d your parents choose a rat?” Peter asked. Rats were…not generally beloved animals, after all. More likely to be associated with sewers and things like that than bright cheerful boys like Remus. “Why not a dog, or a cat, or something like that?”
Remus smiled. “They gave me a book on rats too,” he said, “and told me that it would be my responsibility and mine alone. I don’t know that I’d have been able to take care of a dog or a cat all by myself, and the ones in the village we lived near never really seemed to like me very much, and I’m sure my parents saw that.”
“But still,” Peter said, “why a rat, of all things?”
Remus shrugged. “It didn’t matter to me that much, so I never asked,” he replied. “But after awhile, I think I’d have chosen that rat over any other pet. They’re really clever, you know. We kept him in a cage most of the time at first, though I’d take him out to play with him and clean the cage, of course, and I’d open and close the door to feed him. It wasn’t long before he figured out how to open it himself. Not a very complicated latch, really, but it sure surprised me when I was reading one time and he climbed up my robes to sit on my lap when I hadn’t let him out.”
Peter put his elbow on his knee and propped his chin on his fist to listen. He still didn’t know where this story was going, quite, but it was interesting all the same. James and Sirius still didn’t seem to notice what their two friends were doing, but it didn’t really matter that much.
“And after that,” Remus continued, smiling slightly in remembrance, “he’d followed me all over the house. Loyal little thing. Sometimes he seemed to take care of me as much as I took care of him, especially after full moons when just having something there that was warm and not going to flinch away from me was a good thing. We taught him to do some tricks—I don’t remember what they were right now, but he was smart, and learned them rather quickly. Used to make me laugh, doing them all the time once he could. Really, very smart. When he died, a year and a half, two years after we got him, I was devastated. My parents told me that nonmagical rats don’t tend to live very long, and offered to get another one for me, but I said no, I just wanted to remember the one I had.”
Now that Remus seemed to be done, Peter sat back against the headboard of his bed. But Remus had one more thing to say.
“And that was just a regular rat, Peter,” he said, and grinned. “He was just a normal rat, and he was brilliant. You’re an Animagus, just think what you can do!”
Peter smiled, briefly. “Yeah,” he said, then, “yeah,” again, stronger. I guess being a rat isn’t all that bad after all…
louve_mae anyway, if she likes it. Happy belated birthday ^_^. Also somewhat dedicated to the pet rat I had several years ago, may she rest in peace.Title: A Rat's Life
Rating: G
Pairings: none. Finally, some gen! Dude, is there a genfic community?
Summary: Peter...isn't all that enthusiastic that his Animagus form is a rat, of all things. So Remus tells him a story...
A rat…
Peter sat on his bed, twirling his hands and trying not to think about a lot of things. James and Sirius were still drinking butterbeer, celebrating. They’d offered him a bottle and, still crowing over their recent accomplishment, hadn’t seemed to notice when he refused. Every once in a while, James would pop into a young stag, or Sirius into that Grim of his, and then they’d pop back and laugh. They loved their Animagus forms.
Peter did not want to be a rat.
“You know,” a voice above him suddenly said, and Remus sat down beside him on his bed, pulling his legs up and crossing them under him, “I had a pet rat once.”
Peter blinked, wondering where this was going. Remus had had a pet rat, so what? Rats were pets…unconsciously, Peter wrinkled his nose, but Remus didn’t seem to notice.
“It was before I came here, of course,” Remus continued, as Peter mentally shrugged and decided to just listen to the story, since Remus was obviously intent on telling it. “It was a year or so after I was bitten, and my parents thought that maybe having a small animal to take care of might take my mind off things. And it wasn’t like I’d be able to hurt it, not when I was out in the shed and the rat was inside the house, so they weren’t worried about that. Not that I would have hurt it anyway, I don’t think. I’ve never really had the urge to hurt mice that have found their way to me somehow.”
Peter smiled slightly, at that. It was the whole reason they’d done it, of course, that werewolves didn’t hurt other animals.
“Back then, I didn’t have much contact with anyone else,” Remus went on, shifting his position slightly. “My parents always seemed to be afraid that someone would figure out what I was, so the rat served doubly, to take my mind off being a werewolf by caring for it, and by being my friend.”
“Why’d your parents choose a rat?” Peter asked. Rats were…not generally beloved animals, after all. More likely to be associated with sewers and things like that than bright cheerful boys like Remus. “Why not a dog, or a cat, or something like that?”
Remus smiled. “They gave me a book on rats too,” he said, “and told me that it would be my responsibility and mine alone. I don’t know that I’d have been able to take care of a dog or a cat all by myself, and the ones in the village we lived near never really seemed to like me very much, and I’m sure my parents saw that.”
“But still,” Peter said, “why a rat, of all things?”
Remus shrugged. “It didn’t matter to me that much, so I never asked,” he replied. “But after awhile, I think I’d have chosen that rat over any other pet. They’re really clever, you know. We kept him in a cage most of the time at first, though I’d take him out to play with him and clean the cage, of course, and I’d open and close the door to feed him. It wasn’t long before he figured out how to open it himself. Not a very complicated latch, really, but it sure surprised me when I was reading one time and he climbed up my robes to sit on my lap when I hadn’t let him out.”
Peter put his elbow on his knee and propped his chin on his fist to listen. He still didn’t know where this story was going, quite, but it was interesting all the same. James and Sirius still didn’t seem to notice what their two friends were doing, but it didn’t really matter that much.
“And after that,” Remus continued, smiling slightly in remembrance, “he’d followed me all over the house. Loyal little thing. Sometimes he seemed to take care of me as much as I took care of him, especially after full moons when just having something there that was warm and not going to flinch away from me was a good thing. We taught him to do some tricks—I don’t remember what they were right now, but he was smart, and learned them rather quickly. Used to make me laugh, doing them all the time once he could. Really, very smart. When he died, a year and a half, two years after we got him, I was devastated. My parents told me that nonmagical rats don’t tend to live very long, and offered to get another one for me, but I said no, I just wanted to remember the one I had.”
Now that Remus seemed to be done, Peter sat back against the headboard of his bed. But Remus had one more thing to say.
“And that was just a regular rat, Peter,” he said, and grinned. “He was just a normal rat, and he was brilliant. You’re an Animagus, just think what you can do!”
Peter smiled, briefly. “Yeah,” he said, then, “yeah,” again, stronger. I guess being a rat isn’t all that bad after all…
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