Title: Moonlight and Tattoos
Rating: PG
Series: Harry Potter
Genre: Supernatural/Ficlet
Pairings: SB/RL
Series Spoilers: Eh, a bit for PoA.
By Moon Faery
Archived: (eventually at) Moon Faery's Garden );
Disclaimer: Not mine. I use a few song lines, but not enough to bother with disclaimer.
Author Notes: Written for FictionAlley dot Org's "Be Timely" challenge — 600 words or less. I hit it exactly.
Summary: Remus feels the call of the moon even when she's not full, but what form does her voice take?
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Moonlight falls on the floor of the dark dorm. She has a voice. Several voices. They whisper, when the moon waxes and wanes, candy-sweet until she becomes full and angry and her coaxes become demands that turn me into a monster. People would say I'm insane for hearing her, but I think Sirius understands. We'll be sitting at a window watching her, and I can look in his eyes and know that he hears, and is tempted, too.
Things are still strewn about from the frenzy of earlier. No one could wait to show what they'd picked up over the summer holiday. In Sirius's case it was a tattoo. He said we'd see later. James hadn't snickered, so it must be a good one.
Tattoos. Seventh year. Terrifying thoughts, those. Graduation. Adulthood.
Dark Creature Registry tattoo.
And still those voices are calling from far away, promising breezes and soft grass and the freedom that only comes late at night under a clear sky. Slipping out from under my comforter, I sit up and watch the light play. Her voices are a tune that pulses in time with my heartbeat.
She's waning. I suppose it's safe. Just this once. My bare feet touch the stone floor, but I can't feel the chill through their thick callouses. It's no great feat to find my way to the courtyard, where the moonlight floods, making a fairie grotto. It is a song, one so clear it tickles the back of my throat. I'm swaying with it, caught by her spell.
There are words, but they're not of any language I've ever heard. Barely even words. Whispers. Sighs. A hum deep in my throat. They sound old, like mountains touching time. I sing anyway. But there's a magic in this, and the dance is there too. It's part of it as surely as the words. I can't help but move, feeling my blood quicken. Some dance to remember, some dance to forget. I dance because she's beautiful, thick in my veins and on the back of my tongue. It would be a sin not to. I'd be horrified to be so exposed any other time, but now there's nothing I can do but dance and sing and breathe.
It's awkward. Incomplete until a wiry-strong body catches me up from behind and joins, whispering with me. Musk and moonlight and heady jasmine, that's Sirius, and the warmth behind me can't be anyone else's.
I don't know how long it's been, but she's setting behind the castle walls. We've danced until it's written in the moonlight, painted on the stars that she's claimed us both. When Sirius loops me around to finish it, he's calm. Relaxed. Bespelled.
His eyes look just like her, shining silver as she fades. We're so close I can smell the cotton of his pajama pants and the sweat on his bare chest and him. It's natural, so natural and easy to just lean in and kiss him. Soft lips and sweet summer sweat. I can still taste the song in my throat, but I wonder if it isn't Sirius too. The courtyard darkens as she leaves us to kiss alone, her light lingering in his hair and eyes.
I saw his tattoo while we were dancing. It's right between his shoulder blades. A wolf and a dog, under the moon while a rat and a stag watch from her shadows. And that's a part of it too. The song, Sirius, the moon, the dance, me. In this moment of lips touching lips, we're complete. That's all that matters.