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mclachlandwill the future blame us?, by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mclachlan
hp, mwpp era
sbrl
prompt: end of 7th year, sunset, a muggle park, and remus carrying an old tennis ball.
There were children below at the foot of the gentle swell of earth, old swings creaking as they were forced back and forth, laughter ringing in the air with the subtlety of a bludger to the back of the head, but to Remus, they sounded like bells at Christmas, when the great hall would be filled with food and thanks, soft chimes of carols -- both Muggle and Wizard -- drifting lazily over all of them.
He gripped the old tennis ball tightly in his hand, feeling the green covering, softened out of toughness by saliva and afternoons of playing fetch by the lake, give beneath his fingers. Barking had joined the laughter, and Remus watched as a great black dog bounded around little legs, graciously allowing his coat to be stroked and patted, giving wet kisses to the shy or scared ones. A boy with mousy brown hair had found a stick and threw it, hoping it would be brought back to him. It was, and much praise was bestowed upon the dog.
"Good boy," Remus murmured, taking a seat upon the grass at the top of the hill, wincing at the pull in his leg, a reminder of last month's particularly difficult transformation. He blamed it on the stress of James losing both of his parents.
The world was cast in an orange glow, setting fire to the trees and the grass, spreading until the children and the dog were ablaze with dying sunlight. Silhouettes began shuffling into the park, taking the children away, quelling their complaints with promises of sweets after dinner, board games, and bedtime stories before the lights went out. Chubby and dirty hands all waved goodbye to the large dog that, for just a little while, had become one of them.
Muggle children, he supposed silently as the dog trotted up the hill, possessed a special magic of their own.
"Bloody brilliant," gasped Sirius, throwing himself onto his back, lying next to Remus with careless grace, all long legs and joy. Remus was glad to see it; Sirius had very little to be happy about. There was a rumor that his younger brother Regulus was in talks to follow a darker path, a little nugget slipped from Severus Snape's oily tongue.
"You looked like you were having fun," Remus murmured, eyes caught by the fading flames in the sky, the sun free-falling slowly into the horizon. "Although it's not hard for you to relate to them, being eight-years old yourself, and all."
Squinting up, Sirius grinned. "You wound me. Really. I'm crying on the inside."
The old tennis ball, Padfoot's favorite, rolled in Remus's palm expertly, its movements followed by Sirius's intense gaze.
"Moony, put that down. You're distracting me."
Remus smiled. "And if I threw it...?"
"I'd hate you forever," Sirius whined, unable to tear his eyes away from it as it tumbled in that pale hand. "Well, not forever. But for at least an hour."
"What cruel and unusual punishment," was the light reply, and Remus drew his hand back in preparation for a toss. Sirius tensed, muscles coiling beneath his ripped Muggle black jeans and leather jacket. He relaxed when the hand dropped back to the ground, grumbling under his breath all the while, settling back into the grass.
"Moony, come lie with me." Sirius covered Remus's hand, fingers curling over those that held the ball. It won him a smile, gentle and sad, the mourning song of a whale trapped upon the sand. "And stop thinking. Bad things happen when you think. Unless you're thinking about shagging right here... because that would be a good thing."
Rolling his eyes, Remus gazed down at the other boy. "You, Mister Black, have a one-track mind."
"And the train is derailed," Sirius said cheerfully, tugging until Remus lay along his side, comfortable and cool from the coming night wind, smelling like old tomes and the sharp smell of moonlight, which smelled a lot like snow. "What's going on in that head?"
"Just thinking about what happens after this year." Remus tilted his chin to look up. "We'll be adults, Sirius." He paused and amended his statement. "Well, most of us, at any rate."
"Rude," muttered the dark-haired boy, tipping his head back to inhale the dusk, the world languid and sluggish. Somewhere, a cricket began to chirp. "It'll be great, Moony. Prongs 'n me are going to be aurors, and Wormtail's going to work for the minister. And you --"
"Won't," Remus finished softly, barely audible, the words taken by the wind to far off places.
"Stop that. Any place would be lucky to have you." The frown that had taken up residence on Sirius's face melted away as he lost himself to his musings, tucking Remus closer. "We'll get a flat in the magical part of London, you and me. And we'll drop in on Prongs and Evans at the most inopportune times, if only to see their faces. James said he'd name me godfather of his first kid."
Remus smiled at the thought of a miniature James Potter running around. The populace would no longer be safe. And a place with Sirius... He tried to push down the nausea that rose at the thought of living off Sirius's wealth. As much as he was told that it wouldn't matter, that Sirius's money was his money, he knew that it would become a resentment that would eventually drive them apart. But for a moment, he allowed himself to entertain the notion of living together, nights drenched in Shakespeare read aloud and the sounds of love-making, being deliriously happy and free.
"And after the second sprog comes," Sirius continued, his voice a sleepy, gravelly murmur, "and you're named godfather of it, we'll teach 'em both how to be the best Marauders they can be."
"Vehemently proclaiming their innocence as something important burns down," Remus said, chuckling.
"The darkness will leave and never come back." The words were soft, but there was an underlying note of steel there. A promise. "James and I will fight and win every time. The world will be safe again. No more death."
"Sounds nice."
"It will be nice," Sirius vowed. "And before you know it, people will be going 'You-Know-Who who'? We're going to make it happen, Moony, I promise."
Remus closed his eyes. "I love you, Sirius."
"We're going to live forever, Moony. You and me." The chest underneath Remus's cheek strained up, and a kiss was placed upon his ear. There was a pause, the hum of breathing, inhale and exhale, and then, "Moony, look. A shooting star."
He opened his eyes and turned, barely catching it as it disappeared, following the sun into the line that separated earth and sky.
Please, he wished silently, holding onto Sirius and the fantasy that had been painted for them. Please, let it be so. Just like he said. Please.
The star was too far away to hear him.
mclachlanhp, mwpp era
sbrl
prompt: end of 7th year, sunset, a muggle park, and remus carrying an old tennis ball.
There were children below at the foot of the gentle swell of earth, old swings creaking as they were forced back and forth, laughter ringing in the air with the subtlety of a bludger to the back of the head, but to Remus, they sounded like bells at Christmas, when the great hall would be filled with food and thanks, soft chimes of carols -- both Muggle and Wizard -- drifting lazily over all of them.
He gripped the old tennis ball tightly in his hand, feeling the green covering, softened out of toughness by saliva and afternoons of playing fetch by the lake, give beneath his fingers. Barking had joined the laughter, and Remus watched as a great black dog bounded around little legs, graciously allowing his coat to be stroked and patted, giving wet kisses to the shy or scared ones. A boy with mousy brown hair had found a stick and threw it, hoping it would be brought back to him. It was, and much praise was bestowed upon the dog.
"Good boy," Remus murmured, taking a seat upon the grass at the top of the hill, wincing at the pull in his leg, a reminder of last month's particularly difficult transformation. He blamed it on the stress of James losing both of his parents.
The world was cast in an orange glow, setting fire to the trees and the grass, spreading until the children and the dog were ablaze with dying sunlight. Silhouettes began shuffling into the park, taking the children away, quelling their complaints with promises of sweets after dinner, board games, and bedtime stories before the lights went out. Chubby and dirty hands all waved goodbye to the large dog that, for just a little while, had become one of them.
Muggle children, he supposed silently as the dog trotted up the hill, possessed a special magic of their own.
"Bloody brilliant," gasped Sirius, throwing himself onto his back, lying next to Remus with careless grace, all long legs and joy. Remus was glad to see it; Sirius had very little to be happy about. There was a rumor that his younger brother Regulus was in talks to follow a darker path, a little nugget slipped from Severus Snape's oily tongue.
"You looked like you were having fun," Remus murmured, eyes caught by the fading flames in the sky, the sun free-falling slowly into the horizon. "Although it's not hard for you to relate to them, being eight-years old yourself, and all."
Squinting up, Sirius grinned. "You wound me. Really. I'm crying on the inside."
The old tennis ball, Padfoot's favorite, rolled in Remus's palm expertly, its movements followed by Sirius's intense gaze.
"Moony, put that down. You're distracting me."
Remus smiled. "And if I threw it...?"
"I'd hate you forever," Sirius whined, unable to tear his eyes away from it as it tumbled in that pale hand. "Well, not forever. But for at least an hour."
"What cruel and unusual punishment," was the light reply, and Remus drew his hand back in preparation for a toss. Sirius tensed, muscles coiling beneath his ripped Muggle black jeans and leather jacket. He relaxed when the hand dropped back to the ground, grumbling under his breath all the while, settling back into the grass.
"Moony, come lie with me." Sirius covered Remus's hand, fingers curling over those that held the ball. It won him a smile, gentle and sad, the mourning song of a whale trapped upon the sand. "And stop thinking. Bad things happen when you think. Unless you're thinking about shagging right here... because that would be a good thing."
Rolling his eyes, Remus gazed down at the other boy. "You, Mister Black, have a one-track mind."
"And the train is derailed," Sirius said cheerfully, tugging until Remus lay along his side, comfortable and cool from the coming night wind, smelling like old tomes and the sharp smell of moonlight, which smelled a lot like snow. "What's going on in that head?"
"Just thinking about what happens after this year." Remus tilted his chin to look up. "We'll be adults, Sirius." He paused and amended his statement. "Well, most of us, at any rate."
"Rude," muttered the dark-haired boy, tipping his head back to inhale the dusk, the world languid and sluggish. Somewhere, a cricket began to chirp. "It'll be great, Moony. Prongs 'n me are going to be aurors, and Wormtail's going to work for the minister. And you --"
"Won't," Remus finished softly, barely audible, the words taken by the wind to far off places.
"Stop that. Any place would be lucky to have you." The frown that had taken up residence on Sirius's face melted away as he lost himself to his musings, tucking Remus closer. "We'll get a flat in the magical part of London, you and me. And we'll drop in on Prongs and Evans at the most inopportune times, if only to see their faces. James said he'd name me godfather of his first kid."
Remus smiled at the thought of a miniature James Potter running around. The populace would no longer be safe. And a place with Sirius... He tried to push down the nausea that rose at the thought of living off Sirius's wealth. As much as he was told that it wouldn't matter, that Sirius's money was his money, he knew that it would become a resentment that would eventually drive them apart. But for a moment, he allowed himself to entertain the notion of living together, nights drenched in Shakespeare read aloud and the sounds of love-making, being deliriously happy and free.
"And after the second sprog comes," Sirius continued, his voice a sleepy, gravelly murmur, "and you're named godfather of it, we'll teach 'em both how to be the best Marauders they can be."
"Vehemently proclaiming their innocence as something important burns down," Remus said, chuckling.
"The darkness will leave and never come back." The words were soft, but there was an underlying note of steel there. A promise. "James and I will fight and win every time. The world will be safe again. No more death."
"Sounds nice."
"It will be nice," Sirius vowed. "And before you know it, people will be going 'You-Know-Who who'? We're going to make it happen, Moony, I promise."
Remus closed his eyes. "I love you, Sirius."
"We're going to live forever, Moony. You and me." The chest underneath Remus's cheek strained up, and a kiss was placed upon his ear. There was a pause, the hum of breathing, inhale and exhale, and then, "Moony, look. A shooting star."
He opened his eyes and turned, barely catching it as it disappeared, following the sun into the line that separated earth and sky.
Please, he wished silently, holding onto Sirius and the fantasy that had been painted for them. Please, let it be so. Just like he said. Please.
The star was too far away to hear him.
