The literary whore inside me screams and screams to get out. So here's another piece, a literary one, filled with abstract comparisons and the fragments of broken metaphors to see you through your days.
Disclaimer: If I had owned Harry Potter, I would'nt be sitting here writing FANfiction.
Summary/Synopsis: - Remus, Tonks and Sirius, in Grimmauld place, clinging to the last vestiges of sanity each of them have. Remus/Tonks.
Insanity and Insomnia
"Fuck the halls with dancing whores, falalalala, lalalala... Tis' the season to jack off to... the SOUND OF MUUUSIC..."
Drunken, tuneless rasps came dancing out of the mouth of one Sirius Black, coating the walls and floors of the kitchen with the syllables that broke upon being uttered. Kreacher pretended to clean the vase, slyly rubbing dirt from a cloth onto the gnarled thing, his grating breathing filling the room with the noxious sound.
"MOONY!"
He was sitting on the bed, clinging to his bedsheets, and staring up at the fly on the ceiling, one which refused to move no matter how many half hearted spells he flung at it, it weaved waspishly with the integrity of a drunk, namely the drunk Sirius Black. He didn't care what the fucker was up to, Remus decided, as he watched the sun trail back out of the window, its grubby golden digits pulling away.
Two more flies joined the predecessor, maybe knowing that the insane Mr Lupin lying below didn't have the energy or the skill to swat them down anyway.
"Fuck off..." he groaned, sleepily. "Go fuck around with the women flies...lay eggs..."
Oh my God. He was talking to a fly. He was reduced to this. He, Remus Lupin, werewolf extravaganza, proud brunette and Prefect was reduced to talking to the flies on the ceiling, for want of better company.
"I'm mad." and with that astonishingly true statement, he jumped off the slick, sweaty bed and grabbed a small blade from the nightstand, hovering it over his wrist. It shone silver, the silver that was only polished brass, and a hint of the contempt of the worker in the Chinese blade-making factory. It shone dully as Remus lowered it as the door creaked open, and there stood a Sirius Black, his eyebrows raised.
When he saw the blade in Remus's hand, he smiled sardonically, Sirius-like and waspish, and plucked the blade out of Lupin's slack, girly hands.
"Hi. Good evening to you too." He noted, Vanishing the blade and stretching. "Nothing like a suicide attempt to just calm our nerves, eh?"
Oh, he was sarcastic, that Sirius Black.
"I'm mad, aren't I? I'm insane."
Remus Lupin had attempted suicide approximately eighteen times, sixteen he was caught by the increasingly humoured Sirius, and the other two times his chivalrous Gryffindor heart had ran out of him, screaming, leaving trails of blood and veins. He had differing reasons each time, from there being too many people in the world, to him being an absolute asshole, and him being unlucky in love. This one, him being mad, was new.
"That's actually original. Good for you, Moony." he helped up the lighter man as he heard womanly footsteps on the stairs as the third resident of Grimmauld Place made her winding way up the stairs.
Remus's soul, which was intact and firmly intent on dying a couple of minutes ago, at the sound of the woman's singing, left his body through his anus, preferably dancing a jig and waving a rhetorical goodbye at the body it hated posessing. Tonks was here.
"Hello!" she said brightly, grinning, her smile only serving to increase the manic tension in the room. "How's things?"
"Oh just dandy." claimed Sirius, "I had a bottle of Firewhisky, Kreacher cleaned, Remus attempted suicide, and we're having pizza for dinner."
Oh great, thought Remus, smiling nervously. Now she knows he's mad too.
"What pizza?"
Oh God.
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Insomnia parched Remus as he wandered the halls like a spectre, albeit drunk and slightly retarded at the hour. He reached the kitchen where the cutlery sparked original silver, daring him to come touch it. He almost did, but another suicide attempt so soon after the last one would be depressing for the record.
He took a glass of water, the hydrogen and oxygen slopping over at the sides, dripping on the carpet. His hand shook, and he spilt most of the water on the floor, where it sank gracefully into the carpet, screaming final goodbyes. He would swear tomorrow that it was Kreacher's urine, that would earn him a laugh or two.
God, he was desperate.
He set the glass down and walked to the fridge as Nymphadora came down the stairs, lilac lace gown floating above her knees.
"Hello."
"Hello."
That was enough, between them, as he gathered her to his chest and kissed her, hard on the lips. Kissing at night, away from the prying eyes of a Sirius Black drunk on whisky and madness, was the perfect antidote to insomnia, mused Remus, as his tongue probed. Maybe sex in front of Sirius would be the cure for lycanthrophy. But he'd rather stay a werewolf, if that was the case.
He was mad.
He pulled himself away, and grinned wolfishly at her. She laughed manically, the high notes tearing from her throat and ripping them from Remus's as they both revelled in laughter, hysterical, screaming laughter, that swirled around and around the kitchen, up into all the balconies, and even down to the basement where Kreacher grumbled.
"How dare they disturb Kreacher..."
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"Muggle celebrities are shitloads cooler aren't they?" asked Tonks, perusing a Muggle magazing.
"Oh yes!" cried Sirius, smoke curling from the joint of marijuana. "I fucking adored the Beatles!"
"Oh wow, my mom loved them." Tonks took a drag, inhaling deeply. "I actually see myself as Bonnie Tyler, you know? That raspy voice and all?"
"I'm John Lennon, obviously." Sirius boasted. "Handsome, caring, and died young and tragically."
"Oh of course. What about Remus?" she asked about her midnight lover. "Is he Paul McCartney? Ringo Starr?"
"Oh hell no." Sirius cried, offended.
"Then who?"
"He's Kurt fucking Cobain, that's who! He's Kurt Cobain!"
"I actually see the similarities..." observed Tonks. For hells sake, they looked alike.
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"What happens when we die, Remus?"
"We go to hell." was his prompt reply to the question posed by the drunken playboy, Mr Sirius Black.
"Why hell?"
"You're a sinner, and I'm as mad as they come. We belong there."
"Is James in hell?" queried Sirius, a question on his chapped lips.
"Of course he is. He's having fun there, cheeking all those demon fuckers."
"Will...that rat...go to hell?"
"Oh, no. He belongs in heaven. He deserves being apart from us."
"Good. How are you so sure I'll go to hell?" asked Sirius.
"All Dogs Go To Hell."
"Of course."
They clinked glasses, two mad men, one mad house, and one woman somewhere around. And of course, a mad house elf hidden away, probably in coitus with his Mistress's socks. They laughed, a low rumbling sound, as the house breathed above, hating them for existing.
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Sirius Black was in hell. He was literally in hell, Remus knew as he sipped a coffee. He fell through the archway where demons and a James grinning devilishly awaited him. This would be a perfect moment to attempt suicide, he mused, but what was the use? It was no fun if there was nobody there to stop him, and his heart, this time, wasn't there to run away screaming.
So he sat there, and waited, whist Kreacher cleaned and cleaned, approaching the room where Lupin sat, gripping his coffee with white fingers and a note of hysteria in his calm eyes.
"So Master Black is no more..." Kreacher sneered as he moved a mop down the ever dirty tiles.
"No." said Lupin lightly. He almost smiled a pleasant smile as usual, but felt it wouldn't befit the occasion. His best friend was dead, and here he was, smiling lightly. He was mad, indeed.
"Good."
It only took a moment whilst they stood staring blankly, house elf and werewolf, zeroed stares as if in a therapy room at an asylum.
"FILTH AND WEREWOLVES! TAINTING THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK!"
Remus sat, examining a bit of grit on his fingernail.
"MUDBLOODS! BESMIRCHING THE NOBILITY OF THE ESTEEMED FAMILY!"
He yawned quietly, his fingers cracking.
"GOOD THAT THE PRODIGAL HEIR IS DEAD! HE ONLY BROUGHT SHAME-"
His ears were hurting. Remus should seriously go see the portrait now, and draw the curtains on the damned thing. He got up, and lazily walked toward the hallway, his eyebrows raising as he passed Kreacher kissing an elf head with a disturbing passion. Perverted elf. The portrait spotted the werewolf and started screaming afresh. Remus looked for his wand, but he had left it on the dinner table. How inconvenient.
As he looked at the screaming portrait, all the insanity and hysteria left over in him came bubbling through the surface as he walked over to the portrait and ran a long finger down it, the fingernail tearing the painting, as Mrs Black wailed in apparent agony.
Remus raised his other hand, his eyes flashing yellow with the madness he didn't bother to conceal. He raked his fingernails through the portrait, making it bleed red paint, and splinters digging into his pianist's hands. He grinned again, smiling like Sirius used to, wide and annoying. He laughed quietly, almost a decent chuckle as the portrait screamed and screamed.
Tonks watched him, tears mingling on her face with the leftover blood, as she hugged him from behind, tightly, so as to not let anything congealed in him like dried blood escape. She hugged him hard and crushing and he stopped running his nails down the ruined portrait as he wept hollowly, briefly for the other man who had inhabited the halls.
No matter how tightly Tonks hugged him, something else escaped him along with the briny tears, because when he pulled away, he didn't have that panicked look in his eyes any longer. He wished her well with a polite "I'll see you soon then, Nymphadora."
And a wave of the hand, a nod of the head and he was gone.
That's when she knew what he had lost. He had become sane with the loss of Sirius, lost his insanity, hysteria and passion for suicide. He had become Professor Lupin, that calm collected man others saw. She could actually see the madness leaving him now, laughing and running away, a quiet, creeper grin on it's countenance, stalking away from the werewolf as he completed his last act of insanity.
Thanks to bloody fucking Sirius Black, Remus had lost his insanity.
He was sane.
The word tasted bitter in her mouth.
"Fuck the halls with dancing whores, falalalala, lalalala... Tis' the season to jack off to... the SOUND OF MUUUSIC..."
The ghost of Sirius Black's drunken song actually fucking dared to linger.
IM DONE OMG.
This is such a crazy pointless piece gahh.
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