A/N: So, I am having this Harry Potter movie marathon with myself, right? And I'm watching the Prisoner of Azkaban, wishing Remus was real so I could marry him (just kidding. Or am I?) and then Sirius popped in all dog like and I thought to myself, "I want to write a Sirius/Remus epic. Like, now and stuff." Seriously, that was the exact thought. And so. I am. I know, I have a ton of other stories in the works and I'm a nasty, nasty girl for just creating more and more fanfiction work for myself. Whatever. It's summer. And I'm bored as fuck.
So, this is The Unconventional Lady going against everything that my story, "The Art of Taming" stands for (Yeah, it's a LupinTonks thing. Yeah, I ship both. Yeah, I know, I'm strange.) and telling a love story that totally ignores the existence of Nymphadora Tonks. I've got plans for her though (and they don't involve death or anything. I've got another sexy wizard lined up for her. Well, in my head he's sort of sexy. In an old-ish, awesome way. And no, you pervs, it's not Dumbledore. Yeah, I know how your minds work.)
HERE ARE SOME WARNINGS THAT YOU MIGHT WANT TO CONSIDER THAT WILL, I REPEAT THAT, WILL APPLY IN THE FUTURE OF THIS STORY: There will be Slash, lots and lots of slash. And some violence. And some NCS…sort of, courtesy of (coughhackitmayormaynotstartwithansanditmayormaynothappentosomeonewhostartswithanr) you will see. And angst. Loads of angst. And my pathetic attempts at comedy. Among other things that have yet to be determined. Yeah. I just wanted to make sure that this was the type of story you'd want to read. And there you have it. The warnings. (applause)
OH! And, post-Ootp time frame there is going to be a little AU. Or a lot. Depending on how you look at it. Yeah. And stuff.
One more thing. I do not own Harry Potter. Nor do I own the Sylvia Plath poem "Converstations Among the Ruins", from which the title was plucked. (I friggin love that word).
So, here we go.
Prologue
Picture this, ladies and gentlemen. An old man telling a strange and tragic and romantic and all around larger than life sort of story to two boys. One is the son of a war hero, the most famous wizard alive. The other is the son of the hero's former rival. Strangely, yet not entirely unexpectedly, they are good friends. Best friends. And, as the old man can see in the way their almost sixteen year old bodies interact, they want to be more. But they are young and foolish and they think they're going to live forever and don't realize that they don't have all the time in the world. And he fears for them. And their happiness. And their innocence.
They ask for a story about war. The old man thinks and realizes this scenario, sort of, has played out before. In different context, though, and under vastly different circumstances. But still, the bones of the tale are the same.
And so he tells them this story, to warn them, and to prompt them into action.
When I was your father's age, I knew these two people. They were a little younger than me in body, but much older in spirit, as they had seen more, done more, suffered more than I had at the time. And they showed me what sacrifice was, not through words, but through who they had once been, and who they had become.
Kids, this isn't a love story, but I've already warned you of that. Sure, they were in love, but it wasn't romantic, or sweet, or even remotely nice, especially around the time I knew them. There was bitterness and anger and sadness and lust and borderline hatred dancing between them when they weren't looking at each other like they wanted to die.
You said you wanted a story about war. This is the perfect one for you.
Their names were Padfoot and Moony.
And this is how it happened.
A/N: So, I just realized right now, upon the prologue's completion because I'm just that smart, that there are sort of two stories going on. One, being obvious, is the Sirius/Remus-ness that I wanted when I went to my laptop twenty one minutes ago and began to type. The other, surprisingly, is Albus (Severus) Potter/Scorpius Malfoy. I surprised myself with that one. I know, I clearly have no control over my train of thought or writing. And really, I'm sort of okay with that. Because it provides all sorts of new juiciness for my idea. Yesssssss.
Anyways, if you guys think that…it's good and stuff…or at least a good idea…then, um review. Thanks.