Title: Fairen Fall (4/?)
Author: Mithara
Summary: We discover Lupin's mistake. The story finally earns its PG-13 rating, visual and auditory thinkers beware.
Author's Note: AU Fic, see part 1 for explanation. For anyone who hasn't gotten this yet, Ryn's a... *whispers* vampire.
Disclaimer: None of these characters, save Ryn, are mine. I am making no money and will whine if sued. Your winnings will be as so: Blood. Turnip. You do the math.
// denotes thoughts
~*~*~*~*~
The heavy mahogany door creaked as Lupin pushed open his classroom door, nostrils flaring. In the few brief seconds that it took him to scan the room, his sharp blue eyes - not nearly as dreamy as they seemed - noted a number of disturbances. Spots of blood made an uneven trail that disappeared behind his desk. The room reeked of blood and panic.
Lupin took a deep breath as he rocked to the balls of his feet, every muscle tense. He closed his eyes, listening for all he was worth. A muffled sob, almost too quiet for even him to hear, followed by an echo of a retch.
Letting out a soft sigh, Lupin opened his eyes, consciously relaxing the muscles that had been so recently tightened. Then his eyes swept the walls. A few more moments would not add any more to the trauma, but this had to be taken care of. The almost festive wreaths of what might almost have been tissue paper, if not for the heavy scent of garlic, and, arguably worse, the crosses all along the wall behind his podium, across from the desk where painful retching and moaning could be heard.
With a muttered incantation and a contemptuous flick of his wand, the decorations ceased to be, and with the spell that followed it, an abrupt wind began to clear the air of the somewhat musty room.
His brows set in a pained grimace, he almost had to force himself toward the desk, where the stench of blood - and death - grew perceptibly stronger. /I am so stupid/, he thought, shaking his head as he knelt down to peer into the shadows beneath his desk, knowing all too well what awaited him.
Even so, Lupin had to consciously quell the bile he felt rising in his throat, stilling his hands to prevent them from covering his nose in self- defense. Varyn was hardly recognizable, face waxy and grey-green, wide eyes unseeing; pupils completely contracted, and irises a startling shade of livid green. Constant, almost silent heaves wracked his fragile-seeming frame, his face a contorted mask, fist stuffed firmly into his mouth, two sets of cruel looking fangs sunk deep between the bones and tendons of his hand, covered with the blood that similarly covered most of his front, and made heavy trails down his face from his eyes and nose.
Lupin took a deep breath, mentally steeling himself as he reached under the desk, tense arms hauling out the almost weightless body. Ryn shivered weakly, eyes sliding closed and something almost resembling a moan made it around his clenched fist, colorless between the runnels of crusted, almost black blood.
Lupin hefted the boy up, breath hitching as the icy cold of the boy's forehead came to rest against his neck. Almost abruptly, the retching stopped, leaving him ominously still. With an angry oath, Lupin stormed out of his room, the only one no one had thought to check. /I am SO stupid/.
Thankfully, there was no one in the hall between his room and Madame Pomfrey's, which wasn't more than one hundred and fifty meters down the hall and to the left.
~*~*~*~
Lupin thundered into the blessedly empty Infirmary, looking almost as pale as the boy in his arms - who looked quite well and thoroughly dead, as well he might under the circumstances - fist finally freed and jaws slack, fangs still extended and his hand a bloody mockery of that appendage. "POMFREY!" Lupin thundered, carrying Ryn through the alternating sun and shadow cast by the large windows along the length of the room without fear. The house elves were known for their thoroughness, at least when allowed into rooms. This, sadly, did not include the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, after the last time one of them accidentally triggered an immobilization trap set on Lupin's desk lamp.
The plump nurse swooped into the room just as Lupin reached the end farthest from the door, clutching his precious, lifeless burden close to his chest. The nurse let out a curse that Lupin wasn't sure he had ever heard before, and ushered Lupin impatiently into a back room. "Here, here... Bring the poor boy in. No one thought to check your room, did they?"
Lupin's cheeks colored as he padded in behind the capable woman, following her directions until the motionless - body? - was settled as comfortably as possible onto the cot against the back wall. He then moved as far away from the motionless figure as possible, folding his hands at his waist to quiet their shaking.
Pomfrey quickly bustled closer, lifting an eyelid and touching a wrist gingerly - even she was not immune to that disquieting stillness - before turning back to Lupin, normally placid brown eyes blazing. "What did you do to him? He might as well be weeks, no, months dead!" With a sniff of disdain at the quietly humming box in the corner - a Muggle 'refrigerator', made to keep things cold, and necessary to keep Ryn's blood - she returned her glare to Lupin, as if it were all his fault which, admittedly, it was.
Shifting his gaze to the tips of his shoes, just visible at the hem of his robes, Lupin cleared his throat. "He... There was garlic, and crosses." He felt like a little boy caught playing with knives, which he might well be. "He made it under my desk... Found him there. They're gone now."
Pomfrey nodded impatiently, then cast a despairing look at the husk of a boy lying on the cot. "We can't give him that, that, *stuff*, to start." Distaste wreathed her features, but she swiftly grabbed a pair of medical shears, and used them to part the skin on the pad of her thumb. She waited a moment for the blood to well up, then delicately swiped it across his lower lip, pulling her hand away quickly, as if the boy were an adder whom might or not bite.
The effect was dramatic, his eyes flew open and his body lurched upright on the cot, only to struggle with weakened limbs towards Pomfrey, who had staunched her thumb with a bit of cotton wadding. He might have made it, too, if she hadn't thrust one of the bags of blood, cold but still viscous, at him instead. He latched onto it, fangs easily piercing the plastic, spidery ruin of a hand clutching at it like a baby with a bottle.
Lupin was not sure whether to be disgusted or amazed as the smell of blood permeated the air, and the boy - he was a boy again - gained more life to him with every moment. The flesh of his hand knitted before his eyes, even as the boy's skin grew more and more life-like, his stance more steady, as if strength were flowing into him with every draught. "My god..." Lupin trailed off, eyes unable to stop tracing the features of the boy's face, eyes closed and muscles relaxed. "That's..."
Pomfrey almost jumped, for her attention had also been trained on the boy. She turned then to Lupin, though he noted that her thumb was pressed to her breast, and she kept the boy in her vision. "You should probably go now, Professor Lupin. He will be alright, with a little time, and I do believe you have a class soon...?" She trailed off, one brow raised significantly.
Lupin jumped. He did. And he had forgotten. /Oh, Hell/ "Oh Hell. Thank you so much, Pomfrey." He glanced at the... Varyn. He glanced at Varyn, who was patently oblivious to everything. "Please tell him I am more sorry than I can ever express, Pom."
Pomfrey must have read the pain in his eyes, for she nodded, and motioned calmly, shooing him out with a wave of her hand, then returned to her vigil, another bag of blood in hand.
Author: Mithara
Summary: We discover Lupin's mistake. The story finally earns its PG-13 rating, visual and auditory thinkers beware.
Author's Note: AU Fic, see part 1 for explanation. For anyone who hasn't gotten this yet, Ryn's a... *whispers* vampire.
Disclaimer: None of these characters, save Ryn, are mine. I am making no money and will whine if sued. Your winnings will be as so: Blood. Turnip. You do the math.
// denotes thoughts
~*~*~*~*~
The heavy mahogany door creaked as Lupin pushed open his classroom door, nostrils flaring. In the few brief seconds that it took him to scan the room, his sharp blue eyes - not nearly as dreamy as they seemed - noted a number of disturbances. Spots of blood made an uneven trail that disappeared behind his desk. The room reeked of blood and panic.
Lupin took a deep breath as he rocked to the balls of his feet, every muscle tense. He closed his eyes, listening for all he was worth. A muffled sob, almost too quiet for even him to hear, followed by an echo of a retch.
Letting out a soft sigh, Lupin opened his eyes, consciously relaxing the muscles that had been so recently tightened. Then his eyes swept the walls. A few more moments would not add any more to the trauma, but this had to be taken care of. The almost festive wreaths of what might almost have been tissue paper, if not for the heavy scent of garlic, and, arguably worse, the crosses all along the wall behind his podium, across from the desk where painful retching and moaning could be heard.
With a muttered incantation and a contemptuous flick of his wand, the decorations ceased to be, and with the spell that followed it, an abrupt wind began to clear the air of the somewhat musty room.
His brows set in a pained grimace, he almost had to force himself toward the desk, where the stench of blood - and death - grew perceptibly stronger. /I am so stupid/, he thought, shaking his head as he knelt down to peer into the shadows beneath his desk, knowing all too well what awaited him.
Even so, Lupin had to consciously quell the bile he felt rising in his throat, stilling his hands to prevent them from covering his nose in self- defense. Varyn was hardly recognizable, face waxy and grey-green, wide eyes unseeing; pupils completely contracted, and irises a startling shade of livid green. Constant, almost silent heaves wracked his fragile-seeming frame, his face a contorted mask, fist stuffed firmly into his mouth, two sets of cruel looking fangs sunk deep between the bones and tendons of his hand, covered with the blood that similarly covered most of his front, and made heavy trails down his face from his eyes and nose.
Lupin took a deep breath, mentally steeling himself as he reached under the desk, tense arms hauling out the almost weightless body. Ryn shivered weakly, eyes sliding closed and something almost resembling a moan made it around his clenched fist, colorless between the runnels of crusted, almost black blood.
Lupin hefted the boy up, breath hitching as the icy cold of the boy's forehead came to rest against his neck. Almost abruptly, the retching stopped, leaving him ominously still. With an angry oath, Lupin stormed out of his room, the only one no one had thought to check. /I am SO stupid/.
Thankfully, there was no one in the hall between his room and Madame Pomfrey's, which wasn't more than one hundred and fifty meters down the hall and to the left.
~*~*~*~
Lupin thundered into the blessedly empty Infirmary, looking almost as pale as the boy in his arms - who looked quite well and thoroughly dead, as well he might under the circumstances - fist finally freed and jaws slack, fangs still extended and his hand a bloody mockery of that appendage. "POMFREY!" Lupin thundered, carrying Ryn through the alternating sun and shadow cast by the large windows along the length of the room without fear. The house elves were known for their thoroughness, at least when allowed into rooms. This, sadly, did not include the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, after the last time one of them accidentally triggered an immobilization trap set on Lupin's desk lamp.
The plump nurse swooped into the room just as Lupin reached the end farthest from the door, clutching his precious, lifeless burden close to his chest. The nurse let out a curse that Lupin wasn't sure he had ever heard before, and ushered Lupin impatiently into a back room. "Here, here... Bring the poor boy in. No one thought to check your room, did they?"
Lupin's cheeks colored as he padded in behind the capable woman, following her directions until the motionless - body? - was settled as comfortably as possible onto the cot against the back wall. He then moved as far away from the motionless figure as possible, folding his hands at his waist to quiet their shaking.
Pomfrey quickly bustled closer, lifting an eyelid and touching a wrist gingerly - even she was not immune to that disquieting stillness - before turning back to Lupin, normally placid brown eyes blazing. "What did you do to him? He might as well be weeks, no, months dead!" With a sniff of disdain at the quietly humming box in the corner - a Muggle 'refrigerator', made to keep things cold, and necessary to keep Ryn's blood - she returned her glare to Lupin, as if it were all his fault which, admittedly, it was.
Shifting his gaze to the tips of his shoes, just visible at the hem of his robes, Lupin cleared his throat. "He... There was garlic, and crosses." He felt like a little boy caught playing with knives, which he might well be. "He made it under my desk... Found him there. They're gone now."
Pomfrey nodded impatiently, then cast a despairing look at the husk of a boy lying on the cot. "We can't give him that, that, *stuff*, to start." Distaste wreathed her features, but she swiftly grabbed a pair of medical shears, and used them to part the skin on the pad of her thumb. She waited a moment for the blood to well up, then delicately swiped it across his lower lip, pulling her hand away quickly, as if the boy were an adder whom might or not bite.
The effect was dramatic, his eyes flew open and his body lurched upright on the cot, only to struggle with weakened limbs towards Pomfrey, who had staunched her thumb with a bit of cotton wadding. He might have made it, too, if she hadn't thrust one of the bags of blood, cold but still viscous, at him instead. He latched onto it, fangs easily piercing the plastic, spidery ruin of a hand clutching at it like a baby with a bottle.
Lupin was not sure whether to be disgusted or amazed as the smell of blood permeated the air, and the boy - he was a boy again - gained more life to him with every moment. The flesh of his hand knitted before his eyes, even as the boy's skin grew more and more life-like, his stance more steady, as if strength were flowing into him with every draught. "My god..." Lupin trailed off, eyes unable to stop tracing the features of the boy's face, eyes closed and muscles relaxed. "That's..."
Pomfrey almost jumped, for her attention had also been trained on the boy. She turned then to Lupin, though he noted that her thumb was pressed to her breast, and she kept the boy in her vision. "You should probably go now, Professor Lupin. He will be alright, with a little time, and I do believe you have a class soon...?" She trailed off, one brow raised significantly.
Lupin jumped. He did. And he had forgotten. /Oh, Hell/ "Oh Hell. Thank you so much, Pomfrey." He glanced at the... Varyn. He glanced at Varyn, who was patently oblivious to everything. "Please tell him I am more sorry than I can ever express, Pom."
Pomfrey must have read the pain in his eyes, for she nodded, and motioned calmly, shooing him out with a wave of her hand, then returned to her vigil, another bag of blood in hand.