Like A Veil
By: Fala young and foolhardy Tzipori
Written: February, 2004
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Genre: General/Romance
Pairing(s): Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Warnings: Post-Order of the Phoenix, Order of the Phoenix spoilers, vague references to Order of the Phoenix, mild slash, symbolism and implications galore.
Plot: A snowy day, a walk outside, an unfortunate accident for our favourite werewolf . . . or is it so unfortunate?
Spoilers: Yes. Order of the Phoenix spoiler.
Dedications/Thanks: This is a small tribute to Shini no Miko, who loves these two, and her wonderful fic Howl.
Disclaimers: It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing except my penchant for slashery.
Other comments/schtuff: This was a bit of a challenge, really. I don't know if this idea has been done before in this fandom, but I sincerely hope not as I'm trying to elude the pit of cliches . . . ::hopehope::
Like A Veil
Remus Lupin knew he was done for the moment he heard the crisp, delicate sound of splintering ice beneath his heavy boots. His blood ran cold as much as the water that surely lay in wait below him like a beast, eager to swallow him into its depths and kept at bay by little more than a frozen platform.
He swore quietly, cursing the snow that had hidden this trap from his sights. He did not know how deep the water was, but he rather wished not to find out. He gingerly lifted his left foot from the snow and felt the underlying ice creak menacingly beneath his right. Slowly, tentatively, he took a step forward, steeling himself for the next ominous sound from below. The snow crunched dully, innocently, beneath his boot as his put his wieght on that foot, his heart a frantic hammer within his chest.
Silence.
Warm relief washed over his heart, calming his nerves. Remus lifted his other foot and took another step. The snow made a muffled sound of protest, and the ice beneath it creaked, but the noise was small enough to be trivial.
He took another step. And another. And another after that. His heartbeat slowed to match his footfalls as calm flushed the cold from his nerves. Remus looked up from his feet at what he now knew to be the opposite bank. He was close enough now that he could see the jagged outline of the leafless trees' outernost branches, their tiny twigs like insects' legs against the mirthless grey sky . . .
His only warning was a sharp cracking sound like the snap of a broken bone before the ice gave way. Remus's startled cry lodged itself like a lump of ice in his throat has he plunged down into the dark, frigid water.
Remus gasped against the raw, strangling embrace of the icy water and it took advantage of this instinct, flooding down his throat, invading his lungs whilst it penetrated his clothing. The cold seized him, slithering over every inch of his person, murderously icy fingers caressing him, violating him.
Silvery sheafs of his hair ghosted in and out of his line of sight, shimmering coldly. Glassy bubbles rose from his mouth, clamouring upward toward a vague patch of light that swam into view.
With tremendous effort, Remus wrenched his body from the paralysing grip of the cold and propelled himself upward. The water flooded his ears with an oppressive hush and stung his eyes as he made the slow, agonising journey upward, his body a tremendous weight as he pulled himself toward that pallid glow overhead.
When he broke the surface, he grasped the jagged edge of ice with shaking hands as he coughed and heaved, expelling water from his lungs. Finally able to draw breath, he gasped against the piercing cold of the air which drove itself through his sopping clothes like a blade, seeming to peirce his very flesh.
Summoning his strength to his arms, Remus heaved himself onto the ice, but it cracked beneath his weight, rendering the effort useless. He tried again, but the ice would not hold him. His mind raced. He had to get out of the water. The chill in the air could kill him, yes, but staying in the water surely would.
Ignoring the stinging numbness in his fingers, Remus clawed at the ice and pulled himself onto it, only to fall through once more. He tried again. And again. The only thought that furthered him in his efforts was the fact that the bank seemed closer than ever, those twigs and tree branches were so clear and sharply defined against the sky.
He lunged upward, onto the ice, which creaked ominously, but held true. At this point, Remus was panting in earnest, his windpipe raw and stinging from the sharp gusts of air. He was shaking violently against the cold and noticed how very red and raw his hands were. The sleeve of his coat had been pulled back a bit, baring his wrist where scars of old lay white and prominent against the flushed skin.
Wheezing and stretching his stiff, aching limbs, Remus dragged himself like a mortally wounded animal across the ice to the gently sloping bank where he collapsed upon the snow.
When he opened his eyes, the world swam into view, blurry, white and vague. Knarled tree branches were looming round borders of his vision, dark against the winter sky . . .
He blinked when he heard his name and his vision shuddered into clarity. He was not looking up into the bleak, winter sky, but upon a pale face, framed by tangled black hair that he'd mistaken for tree branches. He found himself staring into a pair of familiar grey-blue eyes.
he heard his name leave lips that were but a finger's breadth from his own. The word, his name, echoed thunderously in his ears, though it was whispered softly, tenderly.
Remus smiled gently. S- Si . . .
Shush now, Moony. There's no need for words. The command was coloured with obvious affection and Remus obediently fell silent, though his smile did not fade. He vaguely noticed that he no longer felt cold and that the pain had gone.
Strong, sure hands grasped his own, lifting him languidly to his feet. Remus then noticed that the strikingly powder-blue gaze was directed at something behind him. He turned round.
A magnificent and quite familiar motorcycle was stood a few paces away, the severity of its black enamel contrasting sharply with the white surroundings such that the snow appeared to glow ethereally. The pair mounted the vehicle in silence, Remus sitting at the back. As the engine was kicked to purring life, memories flooded over him in a warm cascade of rides to Hogsmeade, dungbomb air-raids punctuated by youthful laughter and secret flights beneath starry skies. Nostalgia was warm within him as surely as if he'd downed a tankard of butterbeer when the motorcycle rose from the ground and was borne into the heavens.
As the white world shrank away beneath them, Remus slid his arms round the figure in front of him and let his head rest against one of the shoulders. He smiled peacefully to himself as they, together, were enveloped by a pale, shimmering mass of clouds, light, cool, translucent. Like a veil.
~ end.