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So instead of WRITING ALL THE WORDS for my Mpreg fest fic I decided to spit out 1800 words in twenty minutes or so on this. *bangs head against the wall* Stupid Gif of Remus reaching for Tonks, why'd you make me cry and plot bunny so hard!
R-ish mostly PG-13 no sex but a kiss and death of course.
Mayhem consumed the corridor. Shrieks sprang from helplessness, fear, and also from terroristic laughter. Maniacal and deranged laughter, a sound so terrible that it seemed to drown any hope that might arise. A shiver ran, cold and unhelpful, down her spine. Her breasts were heavy, damp at the nipples, and leaked as the children’s cries echoed in her ears. She should be home. Safe in the comfort of a protected space, with the warmth that only cradling her son can bring. Yet, she’d come here. This place bright with curses and defensive spells.
There were many halls, littered with both the wounded and the dead. If she’d been less caught up in her desperation to find one man she’d have stopped. Helped, cried, something, but she did none of those things.
Around a charred corner she found him, a Death Eater ran as another fell, and she found him more breathtaking than he had any right being. Scarred, shabby, pale like death, but he was a dark creature that walked forward intent to set the world on the path of light.
“Remus,” she cried out, and he turned. Warm eyes glowed nearly golden in the light from spells that flashed around them. His smile was the wizened smile of an elderly man. She could not smile back, tears filled her eyes and she clutched her wand tighter as she ran. His warm palm was sticky from a cut, but she didn’t care when he cupped her face.
“Dora,” he whispered. She expected him to chastise her, demand why she hadn’t stayed home with her mother as he’d said, but he didn’t do either of those. He just hugged her, and she could feel his shoulders shake. Even as the sounds of chaotic battle closed in, she never once thought of unhooking her arms from around Remus’ waist. “There was a girl,” he said as he breathed in the fragrance of her hair, “She had a face just like yours...” Even as he trailed off she understood the implication.
“I’m not dead.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” his arms held her with an unyielding strength, but she knew if she pushed him away his hold would splinter easily like rotting wood. “This is where I am meant to die, now go back to Teddy.”
“But I need you,” she shouted, and she wondered somewhere why she needed him. What exactly made Remus special? Why should she be with him rather than their son? He was nothing special, and yet to her the world was beautiful with the first birth of Remus’ smile. Her hand cupped his bearded cheek, the tip of her thumb brushed the thin scars of his cheek, and she whispered, “I won’t let you leave me again.”
The kiss was unexpected, because in all their short time together Remus had never kissed her first. His hands tangled in the short cut of her hair, and she stood slack for only a moment. Together they conveyed everything he couldn’t say and all the fears she had through their mouths. It was silent and wet, but it promised a future neither knew existed.
“Let’s go finish this fight,” Remus said, her own terror reflected in his eyes. He started down the hall, toward the sounds of turmoil she was a step behind. Remus stopped, and looked to her as he reached out his arm. She was proud she didn’t tremble, sorrow, horror, and worry, masked her face as she reached back a whispered, ‘I love you,’ fell from her lips. He couldn’t hear her over the noise they walked closer to, but he could read it on the shapes her lips made.
It wasn’t long, three or four Death Eaters later, and they came upon Dolohov. Waxy skinned, mad, and lusting for blood Dolohov moved with a grace that didn’t fit his image. It was like a dance, the way they sidestepped lights shot off from wand tips, and Remus was by far the most graceful. He was so close, an arm or two away, and Dolohov shot him with a stunner that only served to knock him out of the way.
She stopped, then ran toward Remus just as he looked up. There was a shout, and as she turned to see what Dolohov was doing Remus leapt into the line of light. It was odd, the expression he wore was surprised as if he hadn’t expected what had come. Blood was warm as it oozed against her through the front of his robes and she heard the sob that escaped her mouth. Yet the sound was foreign and seemed to come from a stranger. It wasn’t Dora, this wasn’t Remus, they were home in the warmth and safe with Teddy.
“Remus!” The shout was not her, no not her!
“I,” he coughed and blood gurgled out, dribbled down his lip, “I love you.”
She sobbed and watched his face, his hand clutched once again in hers. His grip slackened but hers remained tight. Even if she wanted to move away, look away, she couldn’t. If this was Remus’ last moment then she would not run. Though he rasped that word, run, over and over again.
“It will be okay,” she promised, he was leaning against her, his tall form hunched against her body. Her tone was shrill, “Don’t go Remus, stay here with me!”
“D-dora,” his eyes were wide again, and she tried to remember something about healing spells, “Be, behind yo-,” she didn’t hear the rest of his words. When the beam of green hit her in the back she too wore a surprised look as darkness immediately filled her eyes. The last thing she felt and heard was Remus.
“I love you,” he whispered again, on a ragged and shakey sob, his slackening lips barely touched hers as they fell together against the dirty stone of a corridor floor.
Twenty Years Later
A sob escaped thin lips as tattooed hands assaulted violent turquoise hair. The grass was damp beneath thin knees, and the smell of freshly fallen rain was heavy on the air. Flowers bloomed beautifully and this place would have been magical with splendour if it weren’t for the tombstones that were lined before him.
“It might be hard for you to believe this, but,” he swallowed down the second wave of sobs that threatened to take over his body, “I miss you guys.”
A warm hand closed over his shoulder, and he didn’t have to turn to know that it was Uncle Harry.
“I can’t believe it’s been twenty years,” Harry’s voice was deep and thick, remorse evident in his tone. At some central place in him Harry still believed all the deaths of the war to be his fault.
“Can I ask you something,” tears were wet as they moved over his cheeks and fell off the edge of his jaw. He tried to wipe them all away, but it was in vain for they never stopped when he was here.
“Certainly,” Harry sat beside him, and muttered about getting old and having a bad knee. Teddy didn’t have it in him then to laugh. Harry just smiled sombrely as if he understood that, and Teddy supposed in a way Harry did know the depth of Teddy’s loss. If he hadn’t a clue about how Teddy felt he wouldn’t ask questions that Harry couldn’t answer.
“How do you ever learn to live with it?” He didn’t have to glance at their headstones as he did so, because Harry would have known without indication what Teddy wanted to know. But when Teddy was in this cemetery he had to always look at his parents’ finally resting place. It was a force he’d never understood.
“You learn to accept what fate decided and you move on,” he patted Teddy on the back again, “And sometimes you are lucky enough to find a person who loves you about as deeply as parents do, and on a rare occasion you find someone who knows exactly how you feel. They know where your hurt and that there is no bandage for the wound. And they understand that even if you didn’t know those people, can’t remember their voice, smell, or face, that doesn’t mean that you miss them any less.” There was a smile, it was a little strained because of where they were, but it was a small promise of hope nonetheless. Teddy smiled lightly back and moved forward.
“Will I be a giant pussy if I hug you now?”
“No son, it won’t affect your masculinity.”
Harry held him the way he imagined his father would if he were still alive, and patted his back as Harry had when he was still a small boy. He didn’t mourn the fact that Harry had been his paternal replacement. In his mind there was no one better for the job.
“Were my parents together when they died?” He knew Harry didn’t know for sure, Molly had been the one to find them. According to her they must have been, but Harry made it sound nicer, sweeter, as if their death hadn’t been tragic but a wonderful and welcome utopia.
“Yes, they were in each other’s arms, the way they wanted to be when they went. In battle and in love.” Short, simple, and a lie Teddy savoured more than any other. He was almost certain they didn’t want to die like that, but it always made the loss much better when he believed Harry’s words.
“Good,” Teddy whispered and stood; he held out a hand and helped old Harry to his feet. “Let’s go grab a pint, yeah?”
“Yeah, I feel like getting pissed.”
“Me too,” Teddy laughed, his eyes still puffy. Harry left the area first. Teddy turned back to the headstones. His hands were shoved in his beaten denim pockets and he looked down at the tips of his trainers, “You know I used to be angry, it seemed rather selfish for both of you to die...” he sniffed again then cleared his throat “But I suppose it’s better that you went together than one of you sticking round and looking at me, remembering the one you lost.” With a deep breath he released the weight of his heart, or at least a small piece of the weight, and he gave the final say, “Well see you both next year, ‘m off to the pub with Uncle Harry. If you see Gran round give her my love.”
A gentle breeze tickled the leaves of the trees, and if he would have looked it would have seemed as if the branches made hands that waved him off with love.
FIN
R-ish mostly PG-13 no sex but a kiss and death of course.
Mayhem consumed the corridor. Shrieks sprang from helplessness, fear, and also from terroristic laughter. Maniacal and deranged laughter, a sound so terrible that it seemed to drown any hope that might arise. A shiver ran, cold and unhelpful, down her spine. Her breasts were heavy, damp at the nipples, and leaked as the children’s cries echoed in her ears. She should be home. Safe in the comfort of a protected space, with the warmth that only cradling her son can bring. Yet, she’d come here. This place bright with curses and defensive spells.
There were many halls, littered with both the wounded and the dead. If she’d been less caught up in her desperation to find one man she’d have stopped. Helped, cried, something, but she did none of those things.
Around a charred corner she found him, a Death Eater ran as another fell, and she found him more breathtaking than he had any right being. Scarred, shabby, pale like death, but he was a dark creature that walked forward intent to set the world on the path of light.
“Remus,” she cried out, and he turned. Warm eyes glowed nearly golden in the light from spells that flashed around them. His smile was the wizened smile of an elderly man. She could not smile back, tears filled her eyes and she clutched her wand tighter as she ran. His warm palm was sticky from a cut, but she didn’t care when he cupped her face.
“Dora,” he whispered. She expected him to chastise her, demand why she hadn’t stayed home with her mother as he’d said, but he didn’t do either of those. He just hugged her, and she could feel his shoulders shake. Even as the sounds of chaotic battle closed in, she never once thought of unhooking her arms from around Remus’ waist. “There was a girl,” he said as he breathed in the fragrance of her hair, “She had a face just like yours...” Even as he trailed off she understood the implication.
“I’m not dead.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” his arms held her with an unyielding strength, but she knew if she pushed him away his hold would splinter easily like rotting wood. “This is where I am meant to die, now go back to Teddy.”
“But I need you,” she shouted, and she wondered somewhere why she needed him. What exactly made Remus special? Why should she be with him rather than their son? He was nothing special, and yet to her the world was beautiful with the first birth of Remus’ smile. Her hand cupped his bearded cheek, the tip of her thumb brushed the thin scars of his cheek, and she whispered, “I won’t let you leave me again.”
The kiss was unexpected, because in all their short time together Remus had never kissed her first. His hands tangled in the short cut of her hair, and she stood slack for only a moment. Together they conveyed everything he couldn’t say and all the fears she had through their mouths. It was silent and wet, but it promised a future neither knew existed.
“Let’s go finish this fight,” Remus said, her own terror reflected in his eyes. He started down the hall, toward the sounds of turmoil she was a step behind. Remus stopped, and looked to her as he reached out his arm. She was proud she didn’t tremble, sorrow, horror, and worry, masked her face as she reached back a whispered, ‘I love you,’ fell from her lips. He couldn’t hear her over the noise they walked closer to, but he could read it on the shapes her lips made.
It wasn’t long, three or four Death Eaters later, and they came upon Dolohov. Waxy skinned, mad, and lusting for blood Dolohov moved with a grace that didn’t fit his image. It was like a dance, the way they sidestepped lights shot off from wand tips, and Remus was by far the most graceful. He was so close, an arm or two away, and Dolohov shot him with a stunner that only served to knock him out of the way.
She stopped, then ran toward Remus just as he looked up. There was a shout, and as she turned to see what Dolohov was doing Remus leapt into the line of light. It was odd, the expression he wore was surprised as if he hadn’t expected what had come. Blood was warm as it oozed against her through the front of his robes and she heard the sob that escaped her mouth. Yet the sound was foreign and seemed to come from a stranger. It wasn’t Dora, this wasn’t Remus, they were home in the warmth and safe with Teddy.
“Remus!” The shout was not her, no not her!
“I,” he coughed and blood gurgled out, dribbled down his lip, “I love you.”
She sobbed and watched his face, his hand clutched once again in hers. His grip slackened but hers remained tight. Even if she wanted to move away, look away, she couldn’t. If this was Remus’ last moment then she would not run. Though he rasped that word, run, over and over again.
“It will be okay,” she promised, he was leaning against her, his tall form hunched against her body. Her tone was shrill, “Don’t go Remus, stay here with me!”
“D-dora,” his eyes were wide again, and she tried to remember something about healing spells, “Be, behind yo-,” she didn’t hear the rest of his words. When the beam of green hit her in the back she too wore a surprised look as darkness immediately filled her eyes. The last thing she felt and heard was Remus.
“I love you,” he whispered again, on a ragged and shakey sob, his slackening lips barely touched hers as they fell together against the dirty stone of a corridor floor.
Twenty Years Later
A sob escaped thin lips as tattooed hands assaulted violent turquoise hair. The grass was damp beneath thin knees, and the smell of freshly fallen rain was heavy on the air. Flowers bloomed beautifully and this place would have been magical with splendour if it weren’t for the tombstones that were lined before him.
“It might be hard for you to believe this, but,” he swallowed down the second wave of sobs that threatened to take over his body, “I miss you guys.”
A warm hand closed over his shoulder, and he didn’t have to turn to know that it was Uncle Harry.
“I can’t believe it’s been twenty years,” Harry’s voice was deep and thick, remorse evident in his tone. At some central place in him Harry still believed all the deaths of the war to be his fault.
“Can I ask you something,” tears were wet as they moved over his cheeks and fell off the edge of his jaw. He tried to wipe them all away, but it was in vain for they never stopped when he was here.
“Certainly,” Harry sat beside him, and muttered about getting old and having a bad knee. Teddy didn’t have it in him then to laugh. Harry just smiled sombrely as if he understood that, and Teddy supposed in a way Harry did know the depth of Teddy’s loss. If he hadn’t a clue about how Teddy felt he wouldn’t ask questions that Harry couldn’t answer.
“How do you ever learn to live with it?” He didn’t have to glance at their headstones as he did so, because Harry would have known without indication what Teddy wanted to know. But when Teddy was in this cemetery he had to always look at his parents’ finally resting place. It was a force he’d never understood.
“You learn to accept what fate decided and you move on,” he patted Teddy on the back again, “And sometimes you are lucky enough to find a person who loves you about as deeply as parents do, and on a rare occasion you find someone who knows exactly how you feel. They know where your hurt and that there is no bandage for the wound. And they understand that even if you didn’t know those people, can’t remember their voice, smell, or face, that doesn’t mean that you miss them any less.” There was a smile, it was a little strained because of where they were, but it was a small promise of hope nonetheless. Teddy smiled lightly back and moved forward.
“Will I be a giant pussy if I hug you now?”
“No son, it won’t affect your masculinity.”
Harry held him the way he imagined his father would if he were still alive, and patted his back as Harry had when he was still a small boy. He didn’t mourn the fact that Harry had been his paternal replacement. In his mind there was no one better for the job.
“Were my parents together when they died?” He knew Harry didn’t know for sure, Molly had been the one to find them. According to her they must have been, but Harry made it sound nicer, sweeter, as if their death hadn’t been tragic but a wonderful and welcome utopia.
“Yes, they were in each other’s arms, the way they wanted to be when they went. In battle and in love.” Short, simple, and a lie Teddy savoured more than any other. He was almost certain they didn’t want to die like that, but it always made the loss much better when he believed Harry’s words.
“Good,” Teddy whispered and stood; he held out a hand and helped old Harry to his feet. “Let’s go grab a pint, yeah?”
“Yeah, I feel like getting pissed.”
“Me too,” Teddy laughed, his eyes still puffy. Harry left the area first. Teddy turned back to the headstones. His hands were shoved in his beaten denim pockets and he looked down at the tips of his trainers, “You know I used to be angry, it seemed rather selfish for both of you to die...” he sniffed again then cleared his throat “But I suppose it’s better that you went together than one of you sticking round and looking at me, remembering the one you lost.” With a deep breath he released the weight of his heart, or at least a small piece of the weight, and he gave the final say, “Well see you both next year, ‘m off to the pub with Uncle Harry. If you see Gran round give her my love.”
A gentle breeze tickled the leaves of the trees, and if he would have looked it would have seemed as if the branches made hands that waved him off with love.
FIN
