Fic a Week 20 - A poor example
Aug. 3rd, 2009 01:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pauraque_bkAfter the HBP movie, we wanted Remus/Arthur. There kind of isn't any, so I rolled my own. I may have played fast and loose with canon details; my memory has faded a bit.
++
A poor example
Back then, Arthur didn't know why he noticed him. He wasn't anybody in particular, just a shy first-year who followed unrulier boys. Arthur wasn't even certain of his name then, but it seemed he saw him everywhere that year, that they would pass in corridors and he'd meet the boy's eyes, and they'd both linger...
It wasn't attraction -- not then. It was *recognition* of some shared secret, one that made Arthur ache and worry, and try his best not to think about it.
~
"And I don't think you've met Remus Lupin; he is new to our cause..."
Arthur remembers grasping Remus's skinny hand, and when he looked into his face they both startled a little.
"Perhaps not quite met." Remus smiled crookedly, still holding Arthur's hand. "But I think you were in seventh year when I was in first."
"You look familiar," Arthur agreed, his face growing warm.
Arthur was more worldly then, and knew what difference it was that drew him to meet the gaze of certain men -- what it was that he noticed in their step or in their glance. But he could never have explained it; it was like child-magic he couldn't control.
Of course there was Molly by that time, and he knew she was for the best... But this was no time to respect certainties or future plans. The sky yawned blackly open and people fell, and Arthur found that the nearness of death was a fine excuse for any sin you could name.
It was raining hard, that first night Remus brought Arthur to the paint-peeling house in Grape Street. As they hurried along the footpath, Muggle cars roared and hissed in the wet, and it was a little frightening, a little exciting, these shining monsters passing so near them in the dark.
Arthur tried not to show his amazement at them, and he tried not to tremble when Remus kissed him as they sat in his small and dingy bedroom. They had the polite, timid sex of people who don't know each other very well, neither wanting to offend. Arthur remembers the light sliding through the curtains as the cars went by, across the bed, illuminating Remus's shoulder, his hip.
They slept together just a few times in that rainy autumn before the Potters died, and Arthur thinks they probably would have stopped anyway. Remus was odd and secretive, and when he came, he never smiled.
"Is it worth it to you," Remus asked one night, his forehead against Arthur's shoulder, "keeping it secret?"
It was hard to answer; Arthur's chest was tight. "I don't think I could hurt Molly," he said.
"You didn't have to marry her in the first place."
"Maybe I didn't know then," Arthur said defensively, knowing his dishonesty. But Remus didn't answer again. Just let the lie hang.
~
It's dripping the end of a rainy night when Remus and Tonks arrive at the Burrow. Remus finds Arthur in the workshop, and they shake hands kindly though there is no one there to see. It's been so long since those nights that when Arthur looks at him, he doesn't always even think of it. There are other layers of memory there now.
"I'm not certain why he brought Harry here," Arthur is saying, leaning against the bench. "I suppose I'm not in a position to question it."
"Perhaps not," says Remus. He is toying absently with a circuit that once belonged to the headlight of the Anglia.
The silence becomes awkward. "There's something else?" Arthur says.
Remus looks up at him, tired circles below his eyes. "There is. I want to apologise."
Arthur smiles a bit, but he is tense. "What for?"
"I used to think you were a weak man," Remus says, his voice dry and hoarse. "A coward. I thought you should have told Molly the truth."
Arthur breathes in as though to answer, but just looks away, shaking his head.
"I was wrong," Remus says. "I shouldn't have looked down on you for it. I didn't understand then how hard it is. Getting older. Seeing your friends with their families."
"Please stop." Arthur holds up his hands, still not meeting his eyes.
The circuit is still held in Remus's spiderlike fingers. He places it down on the bench. "All right." A touch that is barely there on Arthur's shoulder as Remus walks away. The workshop door clicks shut.
Arthur sits down hard on the step-stool, and rubs his mouth with his palm. Picks up the circuit, holds it hard. He snaps off an old wire with his thumb, but it doesn't matter, does it -- he'll never need it again anyway.
.
++
A poor example
Back then, Arthur didn't know why he noticed him. He wasn't anybody in particular, just a shy first-year who followed unrulier boys. Arthur wasn't even certain of his name then, but it seemed he saw him everywhere that year, that they would pass in corridors and he'd meet the boy's eyes, and they'd both linger...
It wasn't attraction -- not then. It was *recognition* of some shared secret, one that made Arthur ache and worry, and try his best not to think about it.
~
"And I don't think you've met Remus Lupin; he is new to our cause..."
Arthur remembers grasping Remus's skinny hand, and when he looked into his face they both startled a little.
"Perhaps not quite met." Remus smiled crookedly, still holding Arthur's hand. "But I think you were in seventh year when I was in first."
"You look familiar," Arthur agreed, his face growing warm.
Arthur was more worldly then, and knew what difference it was that drew him to meet the gaze of certain men -- what it was that he noticed in their step or in their glance. But he could never have explained it; it was like child-magic he couldn't control.
Of course there was Molly by that time, and he knew she was for the best... But this was no time to respect certainties or future plans. The sky yawned blackly open and people fell, and Arthur found that the nearness of death was a fine excuse for any sin you could name.
It was raining hard, that first night Remus brought Arthur to the paint-peeling house in Grape Street. As they hurried along the footpath, Muggle cars roared and hissed in the wet, and it was a little frightening, a little exciting, these shining monsters passing so near them in the dark.
Arthur tried not to show his amazement at them, and he tried not to tremble when Remus kissed him as they sat in his small and dingy bedroom. They had the polite, timid sex of people who don't know each other very well, neither wanting to offend. Arthur remembers the light sliding through the curtains as the cars went by, across the bed, illuminating Remus's shoulder, his hip.
They slept together just a few times in that rainy autumn before the Potters died, and Arthur thinks they probably would have stopped anyway. Remus was odd and secretive, and when he came, he never smiled.
"Is it worth it to you," Remus asked one night, his forehead against Arthur's shoulder, "keeping it secret?"
It was hard to answer; Arthur's chest was tight. "I don't think I could hurt Molly," he said.
"You didn't have to marry her in the first place."
"Maybe I didn't know then," Arthur said defensively, knowing his dishonesty. But Remus didn't answer again. Just let the lie hang.
~
It's dripping the end of a rainy night when Remus and Tonks arrive at the Burrow. Remus finds Arthur in the workshop, and they shake hands kindly though there is no one there to see. It's been so long since those nights that when Arthur looks at him, he doesn't always even think of it. There are other layers of memory there now.
"I'm not certain why he brought Harry here," Arthur is saying, leaning against the bench. "I suppose I'm not in a position to question it."
"Perhaps not," says Remus. He is toying absently with a circuit that once belonged to the headlight of the Anglia.
The silence becomes awkward. "There's something else?" Arthur says.
Remus looks up at him, tired circles below his eyes. "There is. I want to apologise."
Arthur smiles a bit, but he is tense. "What for?"
"I used to think you were a weak man," Remus says, his voice dry and hoarse. "A coward. I thought you should have told Molly the truth."
Arthur breathes in as though to answer, but just looks away, shaking his head.
"I was wrong," Remus says. "I shouldn't have looked down on you for it. I didn't understand then how hard it is. Getting older. Seeing your friends with their families."
"Please stop." Arthur holds up his hands, still not meeting his eyes.
The circuit is still held in Remus's spiderlike fingers. He places it down on the bench. "All right." A touch that is barely there on Arthur's shoulder as Remus walks away. The workshop door clicks shut.
Arthur sits down hard on the step-stool, and rubs his mouth with his palm. Picks up the circuit, holds it hard. He snaps off an old wire with his thumb, but it doesn't matter, does it -- he'll never need it again anyway.
.
