Hi guys! It's been such a long time, I know! I've just been super busy with school. This year will be my first year of college so I'm both super excited and super nervous. Anyway, enough about me.
This story is my entry for alohamora080's Three Prompts comp. Check it out - it's awesome! Hope you like my story!
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Midnight was Remus Lupin's favorite hour … there was something beautifully mysterious about it. It was a time of endless possibility and haunting deliberation. It was silent in nature but loud in opportunity. And, it was lonely.
But Remus was used to that.
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Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was eerily silent at night, so Remus took care to avoid certain, obnoxious creaks on the windy staircase as he made his way towards the dimly lit kitchen. The house had emptied out for the evening, but for himself and Sirius – not that this was a particularly surprising phenomenon. Most of the Order members had their own homes and families to return to. No one really ever wanted to spend the night at Grimmauld Place …
Well, except Tonks.
Remus simply didn't understand why the girl enjoyed spending her free hours in Sirius's creepy, dilapidated excuse for a house. Sure, her family was somehow ancestrally connected to the building, but … well, nothing about Tonks – from her vibrant, bubblegum pink hair to her insistence on knocking over everything in reach – really quite matched the gloomy, motionless atmosphere of the Black family home.
He wasn't complaining, though. He rather enjoyed her company, even if it was far livelier and more energetically straining that anything Remus was used to.
But on this cold, wintery night, even Tonks had retired to her own flat, leaving Remus alone with his thoughts.
Coughing softly, Remus tiptoed down the last few stairs and padded stealthily down the hallway to the kitchen. Several half-empty Firewhiskey bottles littered the floor under the dining table and Remus frowned to himself as he stooped down to pick them. Making a mental note the clean the house of any more alcohol before Sirius got his hands on it, Remus sighed, plunking himself down onto one of the table's wooden chairs and trying to remember what had awoken him from his slumber, in the first place.
Ah – yes, of course.
The Dream.
Remus had been having the Dream for as long as he could remember. It had started a couple months after Greyback had bitten him. He was running through the forest, breathing sharp and shallow. The grass crunched sickeningly below his feet with every step he took. Sweat was dripping down his forehead, his palms were itching, his knees were shaking. And then all of a sudden, a horrible, bloodcurdling howl ripped through the expanse, forcing Remus to freeze in his tracks, unable to move a muscle.
Then, slowly revolving on the spot, like a ballerina in a Muggle music box, Remus found himself staring at a small, oval-shaped hollow in a tree. Only, a split-second later, it wasn't a hollow. It was a mirror. And, just like that, Remus was gazing at his own yellowy eyes, his pointed snout, and his snarling expression.
He was a monster.
Another, louder howl slashed through the atmosphere. And, as always, Remus awoke, with a start.
Shivering involuntarily at the vivid re-experience, Remus shook his head to clear the memory, glancing down at his watch.
Through the pale, guttering light from the gas lamps that lined the kitchen walls, Remus could just make out the two hands on the tiny panel, both pointed at twelve.
Midnight. A jolt of inexplicable excitement swept through Remus at the realization.
He'd always liked midnight. Midnight. It even had an enigmatic ring to it.
Remus absentmindedly twirled one of Sirius's dusty, leftover Firewhiskey bottles between his fingers. His mind wandered to a different time – in a warmer, happier place. He was lying down in the Hogwarts courtyard, a book propped up against his knees. Peter was loitering somewhere by his head, chattering mindlessly about the surprisingly good mark he'd received on a recent Charms practical. In the background, he could vaguely hear James's haughty tones, punctuated periodically by Sirius's familiar bark of unruly laughter.
Sirius's laugh … it sounded so distant, so unreal. It had been ages since Remus had seen Sirius smile, much less laugh. Perhaps it was the dreariness of the wintertime, or the mere fact that he wasn't going to be able to see his godson for another five months, but lately, Sirius had begun channeling an acute level of despair and darkness into his attitude that was very characteristic of his Azkaban days.
Remus couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Sirius without a bottle of Ogden's clutched in his hand.
Midnight.
The word crept back into Remus's mind like a cruel mantra.
Midnight.
Remus's stomach twisted nauseatingly.
Midnight.
He leaped to his feet with a mixture of fear and revulsion.
Midnight.
The Firewhiskey bottle flew out of Remus's hands and crashed into the opposite wall with an earsplitting clatter.
Midnight …
Remus stared at the glass pieces that littered the floor, his mouth slightly agape. Then, suddenly coming to his senses, he hastened across the room and knelt down beside the clutter, directing his wand at it.
"Reparo," he said hoarsely, and the pieces flew back into shape. He had just picked up the restructured bottle, when he heard a thundering of footsteps echoing down the nearby hallway.
Sirius Black flew into the room, illuminated wand-tip held aloft and chest heaving. Catching sight of Remus, his determined expression morphed into one of disbelief. He lowered his wand. "What the bloody hell are you doing down here?" he demanded.
"Nothing," Remus said quickly, straightening his shoulders and placing the repaired Firewhiskey bottle back on the dining table. "I just broke this bottle, that's all."
Sirius stared at him, looking incredulous. "You … broke … a bottle."
Remus frowned at him, somewhat affronted by Sirius's disparaging expression. He felt it was rather rich of Sirius to condemn him for breaking the bottle when it had been Sirius's recently acquired drinking habits that had caused the incident in the first place. "I don't think it was entirely my fault," he said, somewhat accusatorily.
Sirius's raised eyebrows knitted in a flash. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, crossing his arms.
Remus stared at him. It was only a moment – a very brief moment – but something in Sirius's insulted expression took Remus back to the faded memory, in the Hogwarts courtyard, once again. As James's and Sirius's voices grew nearer and nearer, the two boys joined Remus and Peter in the shade of the large tree under which the pair was seated.
James – very ironically, considering his own hair's untidy characteristics – was poking fun at Sirius's almost shoulder-length locks. And from where Remus was nestled comfortably against one of the tree's lower branches, he saw a flash of genuine offendedness cross Sirius's face. It was very fleeting; in fact, for a moment, Remus thought he might have imagined it – James certainly hadn't noticed anything.
But there Sirius was again, nearly twenty years later, sporting the very same expression.
Remus shook his head slowly.
"Nothing," he said finally, his voice trembling slightly. "I'm sorry I woke you," he added.
If Sirius was disconcerted by Remus's abrupt change in temperament, he was tactful enough not to question it.
Instead, he simply clapped his friend's shoulder bracingly and led him out of the dull kitchen and into the peaceful silence of the adjoining hallway.
Midnight.
The word didn't sound quiet so taunting anymore, Remus thought to himself, as he sidled back into his bedroom.
Midnight.
Vaguely, he could hear Sirius climbing up another flight of stairs to his own bedroom.
Midnight.
His eyes were shutting on their own accord. A myriad of disoriented memories flitted through his mind in quick succession: James's voice, Peter's chattering, Sirius's laugh …
Midnight.
And everything went black.
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Tell me what you thought! Reviews are lovely.
Anni