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The Great Comeback: a Poem and a Request

After a very long break—which I spent mostly working, and in any case cut off from civilisation, that is the Net—here I am, finally back, and very glad about it.

I am planning to slowly catch up on all the personal journals on my f-list, as well as go through the August nest_of_spiders posts. I won’t, however, even try to browse through the numerous Remus, Sirius, and Remus/Sirius communities—I realise it’s a lost battle. And thus I have a big request: if there are any fics which appeared within these last two months and which you think are really worth recommending, please let me know, I’d be most grateful for the links.


For the new beginning I am posting one of my recent poems, from the 24th of August. As always, comments of any kind are most appreciated.


HIS LOVE HURTS
                                  to W.

His love hurts like touching
relics with sinful hands
but I bask in this
newfound pain, finally
mine. And perhaps
this is what makes me
worthy.

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FIC: Can You Fix It

Can you imagine? Not a drabble. It was supposed to be a drabble, but I soon realised that there was nothing unimportant for me in this text, nothing I was ready to edit out. And who said I can’t write fics between 100 and 300 words? So. I must admit, however, that I kept working until I got a round number …
More positive fics ahead, also some for the rainy collection.


Title: Can You Fix It
Characters: Remus/Sirius
Era: OotP
Rating: PG
Word count: 160 (!)
Disclaimer: I disclaim.
A/N: All feedback will be treasured. Con-crit is received with love and gratefulness.


Can You Fix It

The room is dark and Remus’s eyes need a while to get used to it.

“Sirius?” he calls quietly as he steps in. A slight movement catches his attention: Sirius is sitting on the floor in the corner, squeezed between the wall and his mother’s dressing table. When Remus comes closer, he can see a silver mirror with the Black family crest in Sirius’s hand. The other hand is hiding his face.

“Sirius.” Remus crouches next to him and lightly touches his knee.

Crash! and the mirror is smashed against the wall. Remus starts, but before he can say anything:

“Can you fix it, Moony?” Sirius uncovers his face and stares at him with burning eyes.

When Remus reaches for the wand, Sirius shakes his head.

“Me. Can you fix me, Moony?”

Oh.

“Sirius, you don’t—”

Sirius picks up a shard and squeezes it in his hand, then watches intently as a thin red trickle runs down his wrist.

27th of June 2007

FIC: Touch

First of all, as I’ve been thinking about this for the last couple of days, I would like to THANK MY WONDERFUL F-LIST for being a wonderful F-list: for the mind-blowing praise and the thoughtful criticism, for opening my eyes to new interpretations and inspiring me to write new things. For all your amazing support. Thank you ♥

And here goes a drabble:


Title: Touch
Characters: Remus/Sirius
Era: Hogwarts, after The Prank
Rating: PG
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: I disclaim.


Touch

stripped of your hands
I’m naked
I’m cold
and without a trace of pride
I’ll beg you for a touch
be it a kiss or a blow



“Remus.” A plea.

But Remus doesn’t stop, even when Sirius reaches out for him. He wrenches his hand out, without looking up, and walks on.

“Remus, please.” A whisper as Sirius slowly touches his fingers to his lips.


“Lupin.” A snarl through gritted teeth.

But Lupin doesn’t stop, so Sirius punches him on the arm, hard. Remus stumbles and for a moment, yes, he will react now, he must!

No blow falls, though. Nothing. His face studiously blank, Remus turns and disappears around the corner.

“Lupin!” A wild scream. “Lupin, you—” Sirius chokes on the words.

“Moony.” A plea.

26th of June 2007

--- home

For a change (new drabbles are being prepared), here is a poem written three days ago.


--- HOME

‘the’ means this, that, specific:
the home of my first days and second
the home surrounded by birches and pines
the home with a cat on the window sill
looking out curiously at the lake
the home that faded in the third days

‘a’ means some, whichever, any:
a home, just with a little silence
a home where the weary feet will lead
a home to welcome defeated returns
without asking wrong questions
a home for a hopeful ever

between the two, there’s an articleless dream

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FIC: Minutes and Seconds

Here goes another drabble, this time not rainy. It was inspired by a poem by Philip Larkin I quote below and a wonderful review on “Leave-taking” by paulamcg. Comments are most appreciated.


Title: Minutes and Seconds
Characters: Remus(/Sirius)
Era: post-OotP
Rating: G
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: I disclaim.


Minutes and Seconds


What are days for?
Days are where we live.
(…)
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?


Philip Larkin, Days


After Sirius’s fall, Remus left the days and moved to live in minutes and seconds.

He concentrated on little things, like the book in his hands or the dishes to wash, or the question to answer. Voices of friends grew unfamiliar, their tones changing too fast within the limited space he occupied. But he didn’t miss them.

The new dwelling proved safer: the shorter perspective didn’t overwhelm so much, didn’t threaten to drown him in the sight of broad fields and narrow streets which awaited his feet, all equally empty. It didn’t promise anything, either, just the following second, minute.

23rd of June 2007

FIC: Soaked

The notes that follow are not necessary to receive this drabble and can impose certain interpretation, so feel free to skip them if you’d rather avoid this. The fic can of course stand on its own, and is another take on the rain prompt at sirius_remus100.

I wrote this piece for paulamcg (at least in as much as I could ever write anything for anyone), whose particular interpretation of the previous two rainy drabbles inspired me to add another one and let Remus show he has not given up. In paulamcg’s interpretation, “Just a Drizzle” presents the actual outcome of Sirius and Remus’s fight, while “Through the Rain” is Remus’s dream of how it should have been. (If anyone’s interested, our discussion on this extrapolation starts here.)
I suppose it’s the first time I have so consciously decided to write something specific, which is a very new experience. Thank you, paulamcg, for the inspiration and for teaching me about hope!

All comments are most welcome!


Title: Soaked
Characters: Remus/Sirius
Era: post-Hogwarts
Rating: G
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: I disclaim.


Soaked

When Sirius opens the door, it’s Remus. Remus whom he hasn’t seen for two months now. Remus, his light green sweater soaked from the rain, droplets of water dripping from his hair.

“You were wrong,” he says, and Sirius involuntarily ducks his head, only to notice Remus’s shoes which are clearly falling apart. This makes him move aside to let Remus enter.

“Come in.”

“You were wrong.”

Sirius meets the steady bright gaze framed by wet eyelashes. “I know,” he answers simply. “We both were.”

“Yes.”

And this solemnity is enough. Without looking away, Sirius steps out into the rain.

24th of June 2007

My Ever

Instead of any of yesterday’s angry poems, I’m posting one written over two weeks ago. It is dedicated to my beautiful friend, who hasn’t ceased to amaze me during this magical, intense year — and probably never will.


MY EVER
                  to Eija

I’ll remember your frail figure
sitting on the window sill
at the end of the corridor where
my life pulses pulses pulses
with purposes and reasons
I’ll remember your gentle smile
hovering so close so real
as close to real as—
The air has changed
in a second for a second for ever
for my ever

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FIC: Just a Drizzle

A proper writer’s flood is really enjoyable when it comes in a good moment. Brief explanations about the two recent drabbles here, in the “Through the Rain” entry.

Title: Just a Drizzle
Characters: Remus/Sirius
Era: post-Hogwarts
Rating: G
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: I disclaim.


Just a Drizzle

As if it weren’t bad enough already, it starts to rain. But no, it’s not even a proper downpour, which would match their tempers and perhaps water them down. Just a thin, irritating drizzle.

They walk faster, hands in their pockets, tense shoulders, eyes fixed on the ground. For a second — perhaps out of habit — Remus feels like trying again, and even saying sorry first, because of course neither of them wanted to— But no, he’s too tired for this.

“I’m leaving,” he says instead.

Sirius just nods and strides on, the keys to their flat ringing in his pocket.

23rd of June 2007

FIC: Through the Rain

This drabble, together with the one to be posted next, was inspired by a rain photo prompt over at sirius_remus100, unfortunately too late to take part in the challenge. Although the two pieces deal with the same prompt and can be interpreted as picturing two different outcomes of the same situation, I’m posting them separately — for order’s sake.
Comments are, as always, loved dearly, constructive criticism in particular. (I’m somewhat uncertain about the repetitions …)

Title: Through the Rain
Characters: Remus/Sirius
Era: post-Hogwarts
Rating: G
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: I disclaim.


Through the Rain

What happens next is rain: light, silvery curtains that close around them with soft patter. They don’t move for a while yet, staring at each other with their fists clenched and the harsh words burning their throats.

Finally the rain puts these out with a hiss, and Remus closes his eyes and lifts his face and hands to accept it. He exhales slowly, then shakes his head, sending droplets of water flying.

He can hear Sirius smile through the rain and he opens his eyes to see him lift his face, too.

“Let’s go home,” Sirius says into the sky.

22nd of June 2007

FIC: When Remus Opens the Door and Smiles

Oh, I can’t resist posting. It’s one of the two drabbles I wrote today … or have written, as today’s not over. Criticism is most welcome. Rather predictably, so is praise.

Title: When Remus Opens the Door and Smiles
Characters: Remus/Sirius
Era: GoF (Lying Low at Lupin’s)
Rating: G
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: I disclaim.


When Remus Opens the Door and Smiles

When Remus opens the door and smiles, he’s all greying hair and hunched shoulders, and the wrinkles around his eyes are new and not from smiling.

Sirius’s been imagining this: himself knocking on this door, and Remus opening, and smiling, and saying “Hello, Padfoot,” as if it’s been a week and not a life. He’s been imagining stepping over the threshold and feeling warmth seep through his skin again, and filling all the empty places.

When Remus opens the door and smiles, Sirius knows it’s been too long and too wrong, and he feels like crying. Instead, he smiles back.

22nd of June 2007