Two very short fics: A Line in the Dirt [RL]/A Free Man [SS]

[valis2]

---

Character: Remus Lupin
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: A bit of violence. Angsty tones.
Het, Slash or Gen: Gen
Description: Sometimes Remus is human. Sometimes Remus is an animal.

A Line in the Dirt

The wood is full of shining eyes
The wood is full of creeping feet
The wood is full of tiny cries
You must not go to the wood at night
- The Magic Wood, Henry Treece

Sometimes he can feel the fur, itching, crawling, as if a knife could reveal it underneath his skin. He forces himself not to scratch.

As a child he would wake in the forest, twigs poking his ribs. Crushed shells of birds' eggs on his fingers, yolk sticky and glutinous on his face, his fingers aching, hot and swollen.

Every moon shatters him in a new and heartless manner. Every moon he must resign himself: sometimes his heart is the heart of an animal. Sometimes his lungs expel brutish, grunting air.

Hermione is busy, more often than not, and cannot always brew the Wolfsbane for him. Few others will. He chains himself, and each time entertains thin glass hopes that it will be different.

He tries not to think. Tries to keep moving forward. He visits the Burrow, accepts invitations to Weasley events, though he winces each time he remembers he nearly killed one of them. The beast nearly killed one of them. The beast, lurking sulkily in his own blood, cracking bones and splitting skin once each moon, his body letting the wolf take him, betraying him. The blankness of those nights is like frosted glass; he can recall nothing but the cold, its opaque white frustrating him. Hours flash by in a heartbeat, and he wakes without feeling rested, knowing that the last thought before this one was the thought of an animal.

He is afraid to ask Severus. Hidden under moon after moon is the memory of blood on his hands that wasn't his own.

When he keeps his mind he is careful not to move. Not to betray himself by learning the usurper's body. He will not submit. He will not howl. There must be a line that he can draw, a line for preservation, a line for lucidity and reason.

The moon stretches him. Pulls him so thin he breaks, each and every time.

He dreams of teeth, his father shouting, the cold, implacable witnessing forest.

Another wedding, Tonks sparing him a single glance before the ring is set upon her finger. Charlie does not turn into an animal. Charlie cages animals. Charlie can love her completely because he is always himself.

The Burrow is a lively place, celebrations linger in the air, he drinks too much. Liquor is a rush, pulling him into the now with unsteady hands. He likes now. It isn't empty. He remembers dancing wildly about the room before everything gathered into a miasma of color and sound and swirled into nothingness.

He dreams of the rush of the wilderness, all scent and liquid and sharp. More dreams he will deny. More dreams he must forget.

Molly serves eggs at breakfast, and he cannot stop the bile which swamps him, the sudden flash of eggshells crunching in his teeth. "They're birds," he thinks, "not--"

He is sick all the same.

It cannot last forever. His father taught him that with the snap of bone. The line is dancing closer and closer, he can feel it looping in upon him, implacable and sharp.

---

Character: Severus Snape
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angsty tones
Het, Slash or Gen: Gen
Description: Severus is wary of traps.



A Free Man

Pull out his eyes,
Apologize,
Apologize,
Pull out his eyes.
-A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce

I have all the dreams that matter, now, spilling from my fingers, slippery and pale. No green flashes.

I taste nothing. The neutralizer that saves my life also makes every meal the same. It tastes of dust. Scourgify. Powdered glass.

This hated house is my home now, and none can take it from me. It's not a comfort.

A few of the old families still purchase my potions. I am nothing if not discreet, now. They know I have no one to tell; the Galleons are cursed as many times as they are not. They scorn my name in public, turn a cold shoulder, but in the dark, at my doorstep, they shiver and beg for Amortentia.

I brew when I'm able, when the sharp taste of whiskey fails me. I brew, and if they're used for sleeping, for forcing, or for killing, I don't want to know. Let them find their own way.

I wanted a name once. I listened to a song of power once. I owe nothing now. Not to Potter. Freedom had its price, paid with Potter's testimony, paid with a messy, twisting betrayal.

When we were both too young and clever Regulus told me that betrayal is either cowardice, or bravery, never both. I remember how he died, puffed up, lips blue, eyes swollen shut. His last word to me was coward. Lucius laughed at that. After all, it was my brave poison, suffocating him.

Sometimes I dream of drowning. The water is cold. The Dark Lord and the Headmaster both offer me their hands, and I let myself slip to the depths.

I would tell Regulus the truth now, were he around to hear it, that betrayal is both cowardice and bravery, madness and sanity, armor and bare skin, that it takes root in the hand, itching underneath the knuckles. A creeping vine, never flowering, only blackening.

Knockturn Alley, purchasing ingredients. Lupin taps me on the shoulder. I try not to wince. I can see the fur seeping through the skin, even if everyone else pretends not to. His expression is ridiculous, of course, though he looks better on the surface than he has in a long time. Perhaps Potter is siphoning him money from his vast storehouse of wealth. I remind myself that I don't care.

He babbles about Weasleys and a wedding and...then he is staring at my robes. Staring at the filthy hem, the patched up tears, the hole I hadn't noticed before. When he looks up again his eyes dare to offer his careless pity. I, who have hoarded so carefully my vials of wrath. His pity is acid in my mouth, and though it's different than dust, it's just as unwelcome.

He asks me to brew Wolfsbane for him, naming a price that is more than fair. It is...tempting. But I will not tolerate another master. I don't care for his fairness. Let the roof rot. I know his charity, a new prank, the same old hurt, slipping between the ribs to squeeze my stomach. I spit and sneer.

His look is sadness, pity, intermingled, and I want to lash out, only I already have.

"Think about it," he says. "Please."

That word pricks me, draws blood. "I don't have the ingredients." My face grows horribly hot. I want nothing more than to Apparate. Even the sickly emptiness of the drawing room would be preferable to this.

He steps closer, but I refuse to back away. I will not flinch. He murmurs, "There's still time, Severus," putting warm coins into my unresisting hand, his fingers calloused and rough. "The full moon is a week away." He looks up into my eyes again, and I see hope, as fragile as an eggshell.

---

This is definitely an experiment for me in terms of style. Most of you know I love to write poetry, but it doesn't seem to have much of an audience in fandom. Plus, I have to admit that many of my poems are simply prose in poem's clothing. So I just decided to write a couple poems, and then...er...convert them to prose.

Also, I've never included quotes from other works before, because I've always been leery of it looking pretentious, but lately I've been remembering Joan Baez's Baptism album, and the lyrics of two of the songs (which were based on other works) just jumped out at me and would not let go.

I would love to hear your thoughts. I'm still trying to work my way through these ideas and I'm hoping that I succeeded in my aims here.

Comments

[sylvadin.livejournal.com]

Don't know about lupin_snape but...

Both pieces were short, intense, dovetailed nicely, and left me hoping that you continue this as a series.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank you so much, sweetie. Your opinion means a lot to me. :)

[acerbicwit.livejournal.com]

Of eggshells and dust.

Lupin: Love the intro. Love the pull of the moon and the agony it causes. I've not read much Lupin but this one will stay with me for awhile. He always seems so weak to me, but maybe he's just saving his strength for those days.

Severus: Finally, without a master. I *hate* that after doing the noble thing we find him in poverty and despair. Living in loneliness and liquor in that dreadful dusty house. That Lupin recognizes his dire straits and that Severus will remain too full of pride and hate to feel a kinship, however minor. I love this line: The water is cold. The Dark Lord and the Headmaster both offer me their hands, and I let myself slip to the depths. Make the hair raise on my arms.

I have no idea if they would stand at lupin_snape. But I went away content.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank you so much!

At first I liked the Lupin one a lot more. Then I revised them, and now I like the Snape one more. Crazy, huh? :)

The line about slipping to the depths was one of the first lines I came up with, and I like it too.

Glad you liked!

[florence-craye.livejournal.com]

It also made the hair raise on my arms. I love how you've found new ways of expressing ideas that we've run over so many times. Yay, more short fics please! :)

[valis2.livejournal.com]

Oh, I'm glad you liked it! They both gave me some trouble before I figured out where to go, honestly. :)

[lunafish.livejournal.com]

These are gorgeous--so intense and full of anguish. Thanks for sharing!

[valis2.livejournal.com]

Oh, thanks! I'm so glad you liked them. :)

[http://users.livejournal.com/_lore/]

Yes, they would stand well at Lupin_Snape. Please do post them there. I loved them!

love, lore

[valis2.livejournal.com]

Oh, yay! Thank you so very much. Will do tonight.

[rickfan37.livejournal.com]

Those are haunting, and very lovely.
I especially love the idea of the fur beneath Lupin's skin, referred to in both the pieces. I've never thought of it that way before, and it works so amazingly well.
Well done, you.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

I once read an account of a man who (during the Middle Ages) was convinced he was a werewolf. When they asked him where his fur was, he told them that it was under his skin. He kept insisting, so they performed "surgery" on him repeatedly, and he eventually died from his wounds.

That story has always stuck in my mind...

Thanks so much! I'm glad you like it.

[catsintheattic.livejournal.com]

I liked them both a lot, they are wonderful mirror images of the two men, as if they are looking at each other from their respective lives.

Sorry, that I cannot express this in more detail right now, it's too late and I should go to bed instead of trying to catch up with my f-list.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for the comment, sweetie! And get some rest. ;)

[musigneus.livejournal.com]

These are lovely - so much intensity, packed into two short vignettes! That first line of the Lupin ficlet is great, for grabbing the interest and setting the tone both, and the way it's picked up in Severus's piece with him seeing the fur is very clever (the recurring eggshell image, too).

[valis2.livejournal.com]

Oh, wow, thank you so very much for reading and commenting! I'm so glad you liked them, your opinion means a lot to me.

I really worked hard on these pieces, and I'm really happy that people seemed to like them. It definitely was an interesting journey to write them!

[gypsyjolie.livejournal.com]

Wow. I'm blown away. These are incredibly well written. Not that I am saying that you aren't normally a talented writer, but wow, these have such depth, and such prettily written woe. I doubt that I will ever ship Snupin, but I love Lupin above all other Potter characters and he is wonderful here. I am honestly sorry that I skipped over this when you wrote it originally.

There is something of a Hans Christian Anderson of these, and in my mind, always of Lupin. You nailed it here. I'm all melancholy now.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

Oh, I'm so glad you enjoyed reading these! They really are my favorite pieces as of late. I just reread them the other day, and I am very happy I was able to capture the feeling I wanted to capture.

And wow, to be compared to HCA! Wow! I'm feeling really wonderful.

I wish you weren't feeling melancholy because of it, though! Now I'm bummed. *hugs* Thank you so much for reading them and sharing your thoughts.