Summary: Remus visits the Whomping Willow
Rating: G
Characters: Remus
Pairings: Remus/Sirius implied
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and characters belong entirely to JK Rowling
A little drabble of reminiscing and remembering. One shot and entirely not making any sense! J hope you like it.
*~*~*~*
I run my hands slowly over the once familiar knots and notches, the rough bark wearied with years of wear.
The tree looks smaller now, and I remember how huge it was when I first caught a glimpse of it. It has grown of course, but so have I.
At the base of the tree, where its knarled roots twist haphazardly outwards like an old man's fingers, there is a partially hidden knot.
I close my eyes and a memory returns.
*~*~*~*
It is the middle of the night and the stars glow fiercely from between the rhythmic waving of the willow branches.
Mercifully, the moon is waning, and I smile wryly up at him, winking at me from behind the meagre cover of a wispy cloud.
The four of us are sat, plotting as usual, in front of a small campfire made the muggle way on Sirius' insistence. He is grinning proudly at 'his' fire and is feeding it regularly with sticks. He has named it Michael.
I sigh. Shadows are flitting between the trees, hiding and resurfacing, but always in synchrony with the red-gold flames of the fire as if dancing to an unheard rhythm.
It is against the rules, of course, what we are doing, but we never had much regard for rules. 'Rules' proclaimed James, quoting one who has long since faded into insignificance 'are made to be broken'. So we did.
We sit, petrified into stony silence by what materialises eventually as a lone tawny owl, and each secretly wonder if the rumours of the deep, dark depths of the forest are true.
*~*~*~*
I smile to myself and blink up at the tree, who has brought me back to reality with an impatient rustle of leaves. I understand. Placing my hand on the lowest branch, I twist upwards, each move coming almost as an instinct, a skill I have not forgotten. I have not needed to touch the knot.
I reach my secret hiding place. No-one but myself and Sirius have ever been up here, and as I sit in the evening sunlight, I feel oddly at peace.
The sky is flaming. A dark red-gold has spread itself over the heavens and the sun paints its presence with fiery strokes of violent orange. The world is alight, I think to myself.
The moon is full tonight. But I am not afraid of him. For the first time in my life, I welcome the rising of the silvery orb that binds me. I no longer belong to him.
A star has claimed my heart.