Title: For Fear Of Dreams
Author: Marlene (Newkirk's Heroes at ff.net)
Feedback: PLEASE! Marlenelupinblack85@y...
Archive: Just here…will upload it to ff.net whenever the site decides to work ^_^
Rating: PG-13, I suppose
Pairing: Walden Macnair/Remus Lupin (musing only)
Summary: Walden Macnair delivers Remus Lupin's Wolfsbane potion…and he has some disquieting thoughts about his feelings for the werewolf.
Notes: I took some liberties here, I hope no one minds. I put Macnair and Malfoy a year ahead of Lupin and his group, which isn't exactly canon. Sorry ^_^. There are some other OC things in here…forgive me again…*hehe*. Also, the title has little to do with the actual story, I just couldn't think of anything else.
Disclaimer: Ah…as usual…this does not belong to me. The characters are JK Rowling's.
Back at school, there had been two types of people, Walden Macnair realized as he Apparated in front of the shabby, run-down house just beyond the town limits, those who followed James Potter, and those who followed Lucius Malfoy. Now, of course, Lucius had been a year ahead of James, but they had spent enough shared time at Hogwarts to form their two groups. James was a Gryffindor. Lucius a Slytherin. James grew up only to die at the hands of the Dark Lord. Lucius grew up to serve Voldemort.
It made absolutely no difference whatsoever, Macnair told himself with a vague hint of ferocity that arose whenever his mind wandered in a rogue direction. They had all graduated from Hogwarts long ago…they, the generation forced to make the Choice, the crucial Choice, the Lucius Malfoy-or-James Potter choice.
Macnair had made that choice. And he had chosen Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy and Lord Voldemort and everything that went along with it. In the beginning, there had only been that smallest whisper of doubt in the back of his mind. But now, especially now…here…that doubt came back…
But what did it matter!? Macnair was sneering now, dangerously angry with himself, and he had been standing there for too long? What if he was watching? How would that look? Macnair set his face angrily (he usually looked angry, and he usually was…though almost no one knew most of the animosity was directed towards himself), thinking not of bridges burnt nor hearts broken, and he stormed up the cracked and weed-covered walkway, trying only to look determined. Macnair balled up his fists and pounded, hard, on the weather beaten door.
~*~
This was not his job, or, under normal circumstances, would not be. No, Macnair worked for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, which was quite an appropriate job for a wizard with one hell of a lot of built up anger. Macnair liked nothing better than killing…
Well, perhaps, one thing better…
"NO!" Macnair suddenly cried out, snapping himself back into his present reality. No, he would *not* allow himself to think of that, no! It had been years since school, and he had only taken this job because the wizard who usually did was ill…
The door opened before Macnair's frantic thoughts could sort themselves out into some semblance of his normal dark anger, and there he was.
There he was.
And he looked a bit startled because, as Macnair had come to realize and come to appreciate and come to despise, he was quite an intimidating figure. He was taller than Lucius Malfoy…in fact he had always been the tallest of the Death Eaters' Inner Circle, he was strappingly built, and with his trademark vicious expression, he always came across as frightening and dangerous. Even when he had been younger, back in Hogwarts, he had frightened people.
Especially Gryffindors who were *already* frightened…
"C-can I help you?" He stammered, still standing in the door-frame, still wide-eyed with anxiety.
Macnair cleared his throat. Then he did it again because he didn't trust his voice. He had forgotten…forgotten that no matter how inhuman you mad yourself, some things could still take your breath away. Some things could still break your heart.
"Yes, Lupin." He muttered softly, hoping the damned werewolf would take the softness of his voice as only another facet of Macnair's dangerous aura. But he could not stop the thoughts that ricocheted through his whirlwind mind:
*You can help me with so much, Remus Lupin…so much more than you know*
~*~
Walden Macnair had first met (seen…actually. Seen would be a more appropriate word) Remus Lupin his second year at Hogwarts. Lupin has been among the other frightened first years (which included Sirius Black and James Potter, who were two of the only un-frightened ones about). Macnair had, for a reason far beyond his twelve-year-old comprehension abilities, hoped that the shaking, pale first-year would be a Slytherin. Of course, Remus Lupin was Sorted into Gryffindor, and Macnair had felt a fairly confusing stab of disappointment.
It had not lasted of course. Macnair was lucky enough to be a close friend of Lucius Malfoy, and Macnair highly doubted that Lucius would be pleased to hear of Macnair's hope or disappointment.
But whenever Remus Lupin passed Macnair in the hallway, his breath would catch somewhere in his throat, and he would stop being Walden Macnair—the dangerous, intimidating friend of Lucius Malfoy. He would simply be Someone, watching Remus Lupin. Someone, feeling something that he could not explain and…did not want to.
~*~
When Lord Voldemort had risen and Lucius Malfoy had joined the Dark Lord's ranks, Walden Macnair had followed. They all had, really…Macnair, Avery, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Evan Rosier, Travers, Mulciber…even Severus Snape, who was a year behind the rest of them. All those who had made the "Lucius Malfoy' choice…all of them had become Death Eaters.
And those who had made the "James Potter" choice…well, the only one of them that mattered to Macnair was Remus Lupin. He had been the kind of boy that everyone fell in love with and grew up to be the same kind of man. And when the war broke out, when Potter and his followers had tried to take down Malfoy and his followers (because that was how it had really been…the Dark Lord had merely sparked the hatred and distance between the two schools of Wizarding thought), Macnair had found himself set squarely against Remus Lupin. That beautiful young man who kept his child-sad eyes, who's hair went gray early...
But best not to think of those days. No. Not now, because it was not safe, not even to think. Lord Voldemort was faded to nothing, Lucius Malfoy was on the School Governor's Committee for Hogwarts, and Walden Macnair worked for the Ministry, "disposing" of dangerous creatures.
He had not seen Remus Lupin in years. And all the better, Macnair tried to tell himself. All for the goddamned better.
But now, he was there. Facing the boy…the man…the werewolf that he had tried not to love all those long years.
~*~
Remus Lupin was still regarding Walden Macnair nervously. The Wizarding world had yet to shed the scars of the Voldemort years, and the "James Potter" crowd still distrusted the "Lucius Malfoy" crowd.
"Sorry Lupin, to, ah…disturb you, but Cassius Newby is ill, and I have come, ah…to take his place this month." Macnair explained gruffly, and some of the tense lines smoothed out across Lupin's forehead. He even offered Macnair a half-smile. Macnair pretended that his heart was not beating quickly, thudding as if it wanted to speak the words to Lupin that Macnair himself could not say.
"Oh, I see. Well…will you come in?" Lupin invited with a casual sweep of his hand. Macnair watched the easy interaction of Lupin's muscles, his arm and body, the slight twist of his shoulders. Macnair blinked, looked stern. Looked dangerous. He thought of the Dark Mark on his forearm suddenly, how ugly it would look if Lupin saw it. How disgusting it would seem to Lupin's eyes.
"No…thank you…I have many other engagements. I simply came to drop off your Wolfsbane Potion, then I must go." Macnair replied in that same rough voice, knowing that if he were to enter Remus Lupin's house, he would not be able to stop his dreams.
"Ah, I see." Lupin nodded.
Macnair paused. The air was taught with late-summer, insects croaking melodies in the fields around the shabby cottage, a scent of heather riding the slight breeze, and Lupin's hair was slightly ruffled. Walden Macnair would have given any amount of power to stay there, in that breeze-tousled moment with Remus Lupin for an eternity. It would be worth it. Even if they never touched, just watching Lupin was enough. Lord, it was more than enough.
But Macnair realized he was taking too much time, looking too concerned, too unlike his usual dangerous and angry self, so he magicked up a goblet of the smoking potion and handed it to Lupin, their hands meeting for the briefest of seconds as Macnair passed the cup.
He set his face.
"Well, I shall be off." Macnair nodded curtly
"Thank you." Lupin whispered, and Macnair caught the words before he Disapparated, knowing that he would not sleep that night
for fear of dreams.
Author: Marlene (Newkirk's Heroes at ff.net)
Feedback: PLEASE! Marlenelupinblack85@y...
Archive: Just here…will upload it to ff.net whenever the site decides to work ^_^
Rating: PG-13, I suppose
Pairing: Walden Macnair/Remus Lupin (musing only)
Summary: Walden Macnair delivers Remus Lupin's Wolfsbane potion…and he has some disquieting thoughts about his feelings for the werewolf.
Notes: I took some liberties here, I hope no one minds. I put Macnair and Malfoy a year ahead of Lupin and his group, which isn't exactly canon. Sorry ^_^. There are some other OC things in here…forgive me again…*hehe*. Also, the title has little to do with the actual story, I just couldn't think of anything else.
Disclaimer: Ah…as usual…this does not belong to me. The characters are JK Rowling's.
Back at school, there had been two types of people, Walden Macnair realized as he Apparated in front of the shabby, run-down house just beyond the town limits, those who followed James Potter, and those who followed Lucius Malfoy. Now, of course, Lucius had been a year ahead of James, but they had spent enough shared time at Hogwarts to form their two groups. James was a Gryffindor. Lucius a Slytherin. James grew up only to die at the hands of the Dark Lord. Lucius grew up to serve Voldemort.
It made absolutely no difference whatsoever, Macnair told himself with a vague hint of ferocity that arose whenever his mind wandered in a rogue direction. They had all graduated from Hogwarts long ago…they, the generation forced to make the Choice, the crucial Choice, the Lucius Malfoy-or-James Potter choice.
Macnair had made that choice. And he had chosen Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy and Lord Voldemort and everything that went along with it. In the beginning, there had only been that smallest whisper of doubt in the back of his mind. But now, especially now…here…that doubt came back…
But what did it matter!? Macnair was sneering now, dangerously angry with himself, and he had been standing there for too long? What if he was watching? How would that look? Macnair set his face angrily (he usually looked angry, and he usually was…though almost no one knew most of the animosity was directed towards himself), thinking not of bridges burnt nor hearts broken, and he stormed up the cracked and weed-covered walkway, trying only to look determined. Macnair balled up his fists and pounded, hard, on the weather beaten door.
~*~
This was not his job, or, under normal circumstances, would not be. No, Macnair worked for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, which was quite an appropriate job for a wizard with one hell of a lot of built up anger. Macnair liked nothing better than killing…
Well, perhaps, one thing better…
"NO!" Macnair suddenly cried out, snapping himself back into his present reality. No, he would *not* allow himself to think of that, no! It had been years since school, and he had only taken this job because the wizard who usually did was ill…
The door opened before Macnair's frantic thoughts could sort themselves out into some semblance of his normal dark anger, and there he was.
There he was.
And he looked a bit startled because, as Macnair had come to realize and come to appreciate and come to despise, he was quite an intimidating figure. He was taller than Lucius Malfoy…in fact he had always been the tallest of the Death Eaters' Inner Circle, he was strappingly built, and with his trademark vicious expression, he always came across as frightening and dangerous. Even when he had been younger, back in Hogwarts, he had frightened people.
Especially Gryffindors who were *already* frightened…
"C-can I help you?" He stammered, still standing in the door-frame, still wide-eyed with anxiety.
Macnair cleared his throat. Then he did it again because he didn't trust his voice. He had forgotten…forgotten that no matter how inhuman you mad yourself, some things could still take your breath away. Some things could still break your heart.
"Yes, Lupin." He muttered softly, hoping the damned werewolf would take the softness of his voice as only another facet of Macnair's dangerous aura. But he could not stop the thoughts that ricocheted through his whirlwind mind:
*You can help me with so much, Remus Lupin…so much more than you know*
~*~
Walden Macnair had first met (seen…actually. Seen would be a more appropriate word) Remus Lupin his second year at Hogwarts. Lupin has been among the other frightened first years (which included Sirius Black and James Potter, who were two of the only un-frightened ones about). Macnair had, for a reason far beyond his twelve-year-old comprehension abilities, hoped that the shaking, pale first-year would be a Slytherin. Of course, Remus Lupin was Sorted into Gryffindor, and Macnair had felt a fairly confusing stab of disappointment.
It had not lasted of course. Macnair was lucky enough to be a close friend of Lucius Malfoy, and Macnair highly doubted that Lucius would be pleased to hear of Macnair's hope or disappointment.
But whenever Remus Lupin passed Macnair in the hallway, his breath would catch somewhere in his throat, and he would stop being Walden Macnair—the dangerous, intimidating friend of Lucius Malfoy. He would simply be Someone, watching Remus Lupin. Someone, feeling something that he could not explain and…did not want to.
~*~
When Lord Voldemort had risen and Lucius Malfoy had joined the Dark Lord's ranks, Walden Macnair had followed. They all had, really…Macnair, Avery, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Evan Rosier, Travers, Mulciber…even Severus Snape, who was a year behind the rest of them. All those who had made the "Lucius Malfoy' choice…all of them had become Death Eaters.
And those who had made the "James Potter" choice…well, the only one of them that mattered to Macnair was Remus Lupin. He had been the kind of boy that everyone fell in love with and grew up to be the same kind of man. And when the war broke out, when Potter and his followers had tried to take down Malfoy and his followers (because that was how it had really been…the Dark Lord had merely sparked the hatred and distance between the two schools of Wizarding thought), Macnair had found himself set squarely against Remus Lupin. That beautiful young man who kept his child-sad eyes, who's hair went gray early...
But best not to think of those days. No. Not now, because it was not safe, not even to think. Lord Voldemort was faded to nothing, Lucius Malfoy was on the School Governor's Committee for Hogwarts, and Walden Macnair worked for the Ministry, "disposing" of dangerous creatures.
He had not seen Remus Lupin in years. And all the better, Macnair tried to tell himself. All for the goddamned better.
But now, he was there. Facing the boy…the man…the werewolf that he had tried not to love all those long years.
~*~
Remus Lupin was still regarding Walden Macnair nervously. The Wizarding world had yet to shed the scars of the Voldemort years, and the "James Potter" crowd still distrusted the "Lucius Malfoy" crowd.
"Sorry Lupin, to, ah…disturb you, but Cassius Newby is ill, and I have come, ah…to take his place this month." Macnair explained gruffly, and some of the tense lines smoothed out across Lupin's forehead. He even offered Macnair a half-smile. Macnair pretended that his heart was not beating quickly, thudding as if it wanted to speak the words to Lupin that Macnair himself could not say.
"Oh, I see. Well…will you come in?" Lupin invited with a casual sweep of his hand. Macnair watched the easy interaction of Lupin's muscles, his arm and body, the slight twist of his shoulders. Macnair blinked, looked stern. Looked dangerous. He thought of the Dark Mark on his forearm suddenly, how ugly it would look if Lupin saw it. How disgusting it would seem to Lupin's eyes.
"No…thank you…I have many other engagements. I simply came to drop off your Wolfsbane Potion, then I must go." Macnair replied in that same rough voice, knowing that if he were to enter Remus Lupin's house, he would not be able to stop his dreams.
"Ah, I see." Lupin nodded.
Macnair paused. The air was taught with late-summer, insects croaking melodies in the fields around the shabby cottage, a scent of heather riding the slight breeze, and Lupin's hair was slightly ruffled. Walden Macnair would have given any amount of power to stay there, in that breeze-tousled moment with Remus Lupin for an eternity. It would be worth it. Even if they never touched, just watching Lupin was enough. Lord, it was more than enough.
But Macnair realized he was taking too much time, looking too concerned, too unlike his usual dangerous and angry self, so he magicked up a goblet of the smoking potion and handed it to Lupin, their hands meeting for the briefest of seconds as Macnair passed the cup.
He set his face.
"Well, I shall be off." Macnair nodded curtly
"Thank you." Lupin whispered, and Macnair caught the words before he Disapparated, knowing that he would not sleep that night
for fear of dreams.
