Young Once, and Beautiful
Author's Note: Another Secret Santa fic for Bohemian Storm. Didn't turn out quite how I expected and is a bit odd, but I still rather like it. Merry (belated) Christmas, darling!
* * *
They were young once, and beautiful. Little boys playing make-believe-war against the Dark Lord, laughing at Peter as he pretended to be a Death Eater while James the "Auror" sat on him and tickled his sides until he screamed "uncle." They were friends forever, practically brothers, and inseparable. They'd spat on their hands and shook, and that was an oath not easily broken, a promise more binding than any Mark the Dark Lord could give. Death Eaters were adults, after all, and adults never kept their promises.
But little boys grow up.
Eleven-year-olds become adults too, in time.
They changed, the lot of them, where they had once thought change impossible. James became a Quidditch champion, Remus became the smart one, Sirius grew interested in girls, and Peter became silent.
They were still the Marauders, torturing Slytherins (especially that slimy Snivellus), pulling pranks, and copying homework from Remus, but they no longer played war. Somewhere in time that game had become no game at all, but War and no plaything. Death Eaters would not be vanquished by tickling them, and each of them grew a bit more apprehensive of the future.
But they were still young then, still so innocent at fourteen. They became Animagi so Remus wouldn't be alone, adopted nicknames and seemed to nearly forget their given names. Sirius sometimes had to be called twice in class before he'd realize that his name was not actually Padfoot. The novelty of being able to turn skin wore off eventually, and they all returned to a state of normalcy, save for at the full moon when they safeguarded Moony at his violent turning.
Remus got a kiss from Missy Menderson at the Yule Ball and blushed for a week. Sirius didn't come back to the room after the Ball. rumour had it that he'd spent the night in the Astronomy Tower with Olivia Holdstrong.
Remus couldn't look him in the eye for another week after he'd stopped blushing.
James asked out the pretty redhead in their year, and she'd said no. He asked her again and received the same answer. They say that third time's the charm, but James never was one to go with tradition. By the sixth time, she's sighed and shook her pretty head, red hair flying about like strands of silken blood, and said she'd go out with him once.
James told Remus that he was going to marry her. Sirius had laughed and said that Moony stood a better chance of getting shagged than James did of marrying Lily Evans. Remus had grown uncomfortable under the gaze of his friend and hid behind his Potions book.
They shed their innocence like a cracking, cramped shell, outgrowing it for the darker, thicker skins coming in beneath.
And slowly, they forgot the promises they'd made when they were small, forgotten how to play war, for War seemed so imminent now. They were months from being released from their world of Hogwarts into the real world and spit-shake-promises seemed so silly. Peter sometimes shook with the fear that descended on him, spoke of drastic measures. James and Lily held hands wherever they went, seeming to need something to cling to. Remus drew into himself more than ever before, and even Sirius acted his age occasionally.
They were eighteen, after all, and nearly grown up, whether or not they wanted to be.
And James became an Auror and married the redheaded girl. Which meant, perhaps, that Remus stood a chance of finding his true love. He wanted to hold his breath until he turned blue, until someone gave him what he wanted.
And then someone did, and he knew. He knew like a paperback romance that this was what he'd been waiting for. It was no kiss from Missy Menderson and no night locked away in the Astronomy Tower. He'd never wanted that, like some might have. He'd wanted days spent laughing in bed, fingers entwined like rosebushes, and secret smiles. He'd wanted a best friend to share secrets to and drink in the scent of like champagne.
He felt eleven again, when they tickled each other between kisses. He remembered the days of playing make-believe, wrestling with Sirius in the Commons and thinking how good his friend had smelled. He remembered James attempting to calm down his hair every time that pretty redhead walked by. He remembered Peter before he grew sullen and detached.
It seemed, sometimes, that the others faded from his memory, that there was only him and Sirius. The mischievous boy had always been his best friend, no matter what they might claim of having no favourites among them. He was his polar opposite; strong where Remus was weak, brave where he was shy, dark where he was pale, and confident where he was uncertain. He had always relied on Black, always turned to him first before the others.
He smiled and Sirius asked why. He shook his head and kissed his cheek instead of answering. Sirius was no romantic and wouldn't care to hear what he was thinking. of how they were like in the movies, where everything happens at the end, after hours (or, in their case, years) of building up to that final moment that you knew all along had been coming.
Or perhaps they were only playing make-believe again, pretending at love when they didn't really know what It was at all. Maybe they were still so naïve, without realizing it. Because you never really understood how ignorant you were at the time. Only in retrospect did that revelation come.
He shook his head again, shaggy blonde hair flopping across his face. He really was quite ridiculous. But he couldn't help it. He felt eleven again, and wondered if Sirius felt the same.
But he didn't ask and curled against his best friend's naked body and closed his eyes.
They were not so young as they once were, and far less innocent. But they were still the Marauders, Remus remembered as Sirius took his hand.
END.
Author's Note: Another Secret Santa fic for Bohemian Storm. Didn't turn out quite how I expected and is a bit odd, but I still rather like it. Merry (belated) Christmas, darling!
* * *
They were young once, and beautiful. Little boys playing make-believe-war against the Dark Lord, laughing at Peter as he pretended to be a Death Eater while James the "Auror" sat on him and tickled his sides until he screamed "uncle." They were friends forever, practically brothers, and inseparable. They'd spat on their hands and shook, and that was an oath not easily broken, a promise more binding than any Mark the Dark Lord could give. Death Eaters were adults, after all, and adults never kept their promises.
But little boys grow up.
Eleven-year-olds become adults too, in time.
They changed, the lot of them, where they had once thought change impossible. James became a Quidditch champion, Remus became the smart one, Sirius grew interested in girls, and Peter became silent.
They were still the Marauders, torturing Slytherins (especially that slimy Snivellus), pulling pranks, and copying homework from Remus, but they no longer played war. Somewhere in time that game had become no game at all, but War and no plaything. Death Eaters would not be vanquished by tickling them, and each of them grew a bit more apprehensive of the future.
But they were still young then, still so innocent at fourteen. They became Animagi so Remus wouldn't be alone, adopted nicknames and seemed to nearly forget their given names. Sirius sometimes had to be called twice in class before he'd realize that his name was not actually Padfoot. The novelty of being able to turn skin wore off eventually, and they all returned to a state of normalcy, save for at the full moon when they safeguarded Moony at his violent turning.
Remus got a kiss from Missy Menderson at the Yule Ball and blushed for a week. Sirius didn't come back to the room after the Ball. rumour had it that he'd spent the night in the Astronomy Tower with Olivia Holdstrong.
Remus couldn't look him in the eye for another week after he'd stopped blushing.
James asked out the pretty redhead in their year, and she'd said no. He asked her again and received the same answer. They say that third time's the charm, but James never was one to go with tradition. By the sixth time, she's sighed and shook her pretty head, red hair flying about like strands of silken blood, and said she'd go out with him once.
James told Remus that he was going to marry her. Sirius had laughed and said that Moony stood a better chance of getting shagged than James did of marrying Lily Evans. Remus had grown uncomfortable under the gaze of his friend and hid behind his Potions book.
They shed their innocence like a cracking, cramped shell, outgrowing it for the darker, thicker skins coming in beneath.
And slowly, they forgot the promises they'd made when they were small, forgotten how to play war, for War seemed so imminent now. They were months from being released from their world of Hogwarts into the real world and spit-shake-promises seemed so silly. Peter sometimes shook with the fear that descended on him, spoke of drastic measures. James and Lily held hands wherever they went, seeming to need something to cling to. Remus drew into himself more than ever before, and even Sirius acted his age occasionally.
They were eighteen, after all, and nearly grown up, whether or not they wanted to be.
And James became an Auror and married the redheaded girl. Which meant, perhaps, that Remus stood a chance of finding his true love. He wanted to hold his breath until he turned blue, until someone gave him what he wanted.
And then someone did, and he knew. He knew like a paperback romance that this was what he'd been waiting for. It was no kiss from Missy Menderson and no night locked away in the Astronomy Tower. He'd never wanted that, like some might have. He'd wanted days spent laughing in bed, fingers entwined like rosebushes, and secret smiles. He'd wanted a best friend to share secrets to and drink in the scent of like champagne.
He felt eleven again, when they tickled each other between kisses. He remembered the days of playing make-believe, wrestling with Sirius in the Commons and thinking how good his friend had smelled. He remembered James attempting to calm down his hair every time that pretty redhead walked by. He remembered Peter before he grew sullen and detached.
It seemed, sometimes, that the others faded from his memory, that there was only him and Sirius. The mischievous boy had always been his best friend, no matter what they might claim of having no favourites among them. He was his polar opposite; strong where Remus was weak, brave where he was shy, dark where he was pale, and confident where he was uncertain. He had always relied on Black, always turned to him first before the others.
He smiled and Sirius asked why. He shook his head and kissed his cheek instead of answering. Sirius was no romantic and wouldn't care to hear what he was thinking. of how they were like in the movies, where everything happens at the end, after hours (or, in their case, years) of building up to that final moment that you knew all along had been coming.
Or perhaps they were only playing make-believe again, pretending at love when they didn't really know what It was at all. Maybe they were still so naïve, without realizing it. Because you never really understood how ignorant you were at the time. Only in retrospect did that revelation come.
He shook his head again, shaggy blonde hair flopping across his face. He really was quite ridiculous. But he couldn't help it. He felt eleven again, and wondered if Sirius felt the same.
But he didn't ask and curled against his best friend's naked body and closed his eyes.
They were not so young as they once were, and far less innocent. But they were still the Marauders, Remus remembered as Sirius took his hand.
END.