Title: It Would Have Been Like
Author: Dwight4Studly
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry is desperate to know what it would have been like to live with Sirius if he had not fallen behind the veil. He just finds out more than what he knew.
AN/ Thank you all who have reviewed and thank you for your sympathies. I really have enjoyed writing this story so far, and I hope to finish it all the way through (but only with your support!). As you all know, hopefully now, that this is slash (you have me all paranoid) and that I own none of these characters.
I suspect that I won't be writing much for a bit, for exams are upon me. If you are in school, you should be concentrating too. (CONSTANT VIGILANCE!) So, before you head for the textbooks and analysis sheets (as you should), review! Good luck everybody with those damned exams.
Chapter 5: Library of Books and a Forbidden Room
Harry walked out of his room toward the laundry room, toweling his hair dry when something stopped him. A door he had guessed to be Remus and Sirius' room was opened ajar.
"It will be okay, Remus. He's always safe during the moon."
"But what if either you or I drop our guard, or if the potion doesn't work … I wouldn't be able to live-"
Sirius grabbed Remus into a bone-crushing hug, forcing his head into the nape of the slightly taller wizard.
"You always worry about this; it's never going to change, just trust yourself for once, Moony. The potion is going to work, even if the slimy git made it. He had to do it correctly, or Dumbledore would do something about it. So just stop worrying … I'd never let something like that ever happen." Sirius said quite clearly.
Remus reached up to wrap his arms around Sirius's back, placing his hands on his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Padfoot. I can't help it … ." His voice was muffled from being buried in Sirius's shoulder, but neither seemed to mind. Harry just continued to walk on and opened the door into his bedroom.
Harry toured the small house for the rest of the day while Professor Lupin and Sirius got the supplies for the night ahead. He had ventured into every room except the couple's bedchamber. That, he couldn't handle just yet.
He couldn't place in his own mind what he pictured their room to be like. He imagined laced bed sheets and posters of very muscular men in tight, tight undergarments and shuddered. Would they really have something like that? Just the thought of them in the same bed, doing things that required two people would send a jolt down his spine. That would definitely have to come for another day …
They did have a fantastic library, though. Every book over the Defense Against the Dark Arts imaginable sat upon the dusty books shelves beside the antique desk. Harry even saw one completely over werewolves and he noted to himself to look through it later. He did know a bit over werewolves, but only that could be provided in his text; and this book was rather large.
Darkness fell and Sirius knocked on his door. Harry answered, setting down a picture album that he had been looking through.
"You know the drill. Just stay in the house and don't open the door. Whatever you might hear, don't venture out. We should be back in by dawn. Are you okay, Harry?" Sirius asked, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.
Harry nodded. "Will Professor Lupin be all right?" he had to ask.
Sirius chuckled. "You know he'd rather you call him Remus. I thought we were through with that stage," he smiled sadly, "But, yes. He will be fine. He just needs some time." He taking his hand off of the boy and strained another weak smile.
They stood in silence for a moment, and Harry had no idea what to say, except, "Good luck."
"Thank you, Harry. One day you will be able to see the wolf for what it truly is …"
Harry didn't really understand what he meant, but he nodded anyway. With that, Sirius left him to his own entertainment.
It wasn't till around midnight that he stepped into the dark study. He set his candle on the oak desk and walked over to the bookcase. He ran his fingers over the spines, thick and thin, until he came across the one he was searching for. As he pulled the heavy book out, he felt a surge of magic in his palm and he knew instantly that this was a very old book.
And indeed it was very old. The leather bound cover was worn and soft after many years of use. The chipped, loopy gold calligraphy that encrypted it contained symbols that Harry did not recognize. The curling yellow parchment crinkled in his hand as he turned the pages open.
He could not understand most of the letters that filled the pages either, but the pictures were clear enough.
A drawing of a man with hair covering his body gripped at his chest, a look of pure anguish etched on his flat features.
A wolf crouched down low, curling its sharp claws around a small thing that could only be seen as a child, a ravenous glint in its eye and mouth salivating.
A wolf sat upon a black hillside, face upturned to the moon, a howl torn through its throat. This particular one was entitled in Latin. Mother Moon. Werewolves were trapped by the moon's presence, never being able to live without her. Harry shuddered, flipping through the pages carefully when he saw a wizard picture instead of a drawing. The picture was that of a mass of bodies, strewn about a bloodied ground and limbs across the way.
Looking through the text, Harry found various notes beside the columns of script translated into English. Curious, he held the book closer to the flame, shining as much light upon it as he could.
"Werewolf packs are of the most dangerous kind. Hunting in such great numbers (as seen in the results to the Massacre of Annecy, 15 May 1645), werewolf pacts are known to devour or maim hundreds of innocents. Tearing out the jugular vein and snapping the spinal cord (pictured on page 274), the werewolf..."
"… sharp senses of smell and sound waves. These are especially strong before and after the waxing of the moon. Also, the colour of the eyes of a werewolf is often the telling attribute. The colour itself ranges from intense, forest green to amber. Small, fine tufts of hair gather on the palm but is barely noticeable unless not attended to."
"When a werewolf's mate dies …"The grandfather clock outside the door chimed half past five and startled Harry out of his sleep. He must have dozed off in the middle of the book, because the candle beside him was diminished and his face hurt from the edge of the pages digging into his cheek. His head snapped up as he heard the sound of the door open. He hurried and placed the book in its rightful place.
Slowly, he headed out of the room and was going towards his bedroom when something caught his eye. He stopped, frozen, when he registered that it was Sirius, holding Remus up in his arms, moving gradually through the kitchen. Remus was completely out cold and wrapped up in a cloak, his face paler than the moonlight that had passed not long ago.
Harry moved into the shadows of the hall and watched as Sirius walked pass him. He could see the whitish skin littered with bruises and scratches beneath the rim of the collar of Remus's cloak. Sirius toed the door to their room open and Harry watched as he placed Remus down on the bed tenderly. When the door closed quietly behind them, Harry stepped into his own room.