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builtofsorrow) wrote2007-02-03 01:55 pm
builtofsorrow) wrote2007-02-03 01:55 pm
Entry tags:
fic: and we drown (hp; remus lupin, lupin/tonks)
title: And We Drown
pairing: Lupin/Tonks
rating: G
words: <400
notes: A short foray into the thoughts of Lupin as he returns to the werewolf colony. Originally posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rt_challenge for the January ficathon; inspired by prompt 2 -- The Clash's London Calling. Overly angsty.
The air has always been different here in a way that is immediately noticeable upon the first breath Remus takes after Apparating into Greyback’s colony. Cold, smothering, depressing, bitter, hopeless: a string of negative adjectives fill his head with each step, each lungful of oxygen, as this Something seeps through even his skin, filling his muscles, tendons, and bones with a strange awareness of every bit of movement. This oppressive feeling seems to emanate from the makeshift shelters, winding in tendrils, reaching out to curl around every bit of him, to enter, to take control of first his body and then his mind, pulling him into the sense of tribal belonging and bitterness that he has always resisted. He steps into the colony and he is submerged, forced into a different kind of transformation that is not-at-all physical and a thousand times more painful than the other.
Lately, however, the change is less and less noticeable, whether because he has become somehow immune, or because this cloying air has seeped into him so fully that he carries it with him everywhere, or because the oppression has simply seeped out into every corner of his world and everything is now drowning in it: Remus is not entirely certain. Neither is he certain he actually wants to know, because each of these scenarios carries its own unwanted implications and consequences. But he worries about it, as it is sometimes the only thing he can actively do; and when he can no longer distract himself with books, he sorts through the various implications, weighing which ones would harm more people, which ones could, perhaps, be borne by him alone.
“You haven’t got to do everything alone, Remus,” Tonks had once told him, and he knows she was mostly wrong. He has been told this all through his life – not often, but enough times to count for something – and although maybe he doesn’t have to be alone, do things alone, Remus thinks that maybe he prefers it. Aloneness doesn’t hurt so much as loss, and he will not bring her down to this.
And so he inhales deeply as he walks on, further in toward everything he has always fought against becoming. Perhaps I will drown here, he thinks (per- haps; per- haps, his footsteps echo). But she will not drown with him.
pairing: Lupin/Tonks
rating: G
words: <400
notes: A short foray into the thoughts of Lupin as he returns to the werewolf colony. Originally posted to
rt_challenge for the January ficathon; inspired by prompt 2 -- The Clash's London Calling. Overly angsty.The air has always been different here in a way that is immediately noticeable upon the first breath Remus takes after Apparating into Greyback’s colony. Cold, smothering, depressing, bitter, hopeless: a string of negative adjectives fill his head with each step, each lungful of oxygen, as this Something seeps through even his skin, filling his muscles, tendons, and bones with a strange awareness of every bit of movement. This oppressive feeling seems to emanate from the makeshift shelters, winding in tendrils, reaching out to curl around every bit of him, to enter, to take control of first his body and then his mind, pulling him into the sense of tribal belonging and bitterness that he has always resisted. He steps into the colony and he is submerged, forced into a different kind of transformation that is not-at-all physical and a thousand times more painful than the other.
Lately, however, the change is less and less noticeable, whether because he has become somehow immune, or because this cloying air has seeped into him so fully that he carries it with him everywhere, or because the oppression has simply seeped out into every corner of his world and everything is now drowning in it: Remus is not entirely certain. Neither is he certain he actually wants to know, because each of these scenarios carries its own unwanted implications and consequences. But he worries about it, as it is sometimes the only thing he can actively do; and when he can no longer distract himself with books, he sorts through the various implications, weighing which ones would harm more people, which ones could, perhaps, be borne by him alone.
“You haven’t got to do everything alone, Remus,” Tonks had once told him, and he knows she was mostly wrong. He has been told this all through his life – not often, but enough times to count for something – and although maybe he doesn’t have to be alone, do things alone, Remus thinks that maybe he prefers it. Aloneness doesn’t hurt so much as loss, and he will not bring her down to this.
And so he inhales deeply as he walks on, further in toward everything he has always fought against becoming. Perhaps I will drown here, he thinks (per- haps; per- haps, his footsteps echo). But she will not drown with him.