Blood Red Perfection
One-Shot written for challenge on FictionNET (link in my profile)
His fingertips traced over the door, carved with details so fine that he was scared to feel them with his bare hands. Did he really need this curious little room? Even Nymphodora Tonks passed by this corridor without seeing it appear. But for him, right when his antique shoes touched the dusty floor, the door emancipated before him. As if pitying himself, he chuckled.
It wouldn't hurt, right?
He pushed that finely-decorated door, expecting to find a way to relax, to end all the terror, a weapon to defeat Voldemort, perhaps.
Before he could see anything, a strong scent of crisp midnight air hit his nose. His shoulders relaxed, and he lifted his head just to smell it once again. It was an aroma from twenty years ago, before the Muggle world could further pollute his haven, Hogwarts.
The room was, not surprisingly, dark. Dark burgundy velvet curtains draped from the ceiling down to the carpeted floor. He felt as if he could take off his dirty shoes and his toes would curl as he felt one step closer to home-sweet-home.
Black paint covered the walls, not leaving a single white spot and not like in the old Grimmauld place, where a single touch would make the paint peel off the walls like a dried-up orange would just shed its skin willingly. Against his palm, the wall felt like there was no texture. The paint had dried off perfectly smooth, without a single flaw.
The curtains flew up suddenly. The door slammed behind his back and he jumped in surprise. A sudden flash of the half-full moon blinded him. His arms shot up instinctively, as if blocking the harmless light. As his eyes adjusted to a slight ray of light that peered through the curtains, he could see a simple but heavy wooden table. Two identical chairs made from the same heavy wood were set beside it, in a perfect fashion that almost scared him.
Someone sat on the right seat with their hands carefully placed on their lap.
He knew who it was but refused to admit it.
Curiously, he took the seat beside the person quietly. The chair squeaked softly as his weight fell on it. He looked down to the floor, not wanting to look in the person's white orbs. The carpet was engraved by the heavy furniture. Holes were imprinted, like scars. His fingers stretched out as his fully opened hand lay on the wooden table. He felt the rough and forced texture of the perfect wood.
The mysterious curtains moved again, now completely hiding the illumination. But he could read the inscriptions with his hands as if he was blind. He could feel the person's rage as they slashed a knife across the vulnerable table again and again. They scarred the expensive wood without care, without a true reason. "Why, why, why, why?" they asked over and over. But he had no answer for them.
He stared intently at the person across from him, squinting curiously. Her petite body sat rigidly in the seat. Her posture was straight and her hands in her lap remained immobile. He could imagine her hair, mostly tied up in a half-ponytail while the rest flowed down to her shoulders. She didn't speak.
"Did you carve all this?" he asked, his voice sounding strangely unfamiliar.
Silence.
"Do you need an answer?" he paused, imagining the female nodding in the darkness. "There is no reason for any of this."
He imagined her looking at him, pouting, disappointed. Immediately, he smiled back.
"You had to leave just like we'll all leave eventually…," his voice trailed off. "But we'll be back for you when all of this is over. A-an-and maybe I'll even bring Snivellus with me when I reach your heaven. I know that you hated us for picking on him but…."
Shuffling his feet quietly, he placed his elbows on the rough table nervously.
"—But that was what made us happy. You see, now, nothing makes us happy anymore," he swallowed deep, feeling his Adam's apple rise and fall as he tried to croak out some whispers, "We're all separated now. Wormtail changed all his morals; we've lost him completely. Padfoot is… gone, defeated when he was the most-wanted man. We're never going to get him b-back. Harry, yes Harry, has tried to find Padfoot floating as a wandering ghost but we all know that Padfoot would never want to suffer like that, without having a reason to live for. And… and James," he choked.
Why did he call himself 'we'? Him and her? But he was the only one left. Maybe it secretly comforted him. He withdrew his arm from the table and turned his back to the young woman.
She would remain as an eighteen-year old, merely ripe woman to his eyes. She would always have her books in her laps. Her skirt would always be straightened and her knee-high white socks would reach the bottom of her black skirt, hiding all flesh. Her robes would always be a little too big for her but her smile would cast all that away.
"James and you would always be gone."
He spun around, his hair flying in the now sultry air. It smelled of dead rats and he suffocated under the pressure … from his heart?
Her red hair magically shone and her delicate and pale cheeks have lost their rosy colors that she bore before. He rose on his heels and his arm swiftly reached for her slumping shoulders.
"Lily Evans, why won't you talk to me?"
He shook her blindly. Her hair followed the motion of her head back and forth, waving in the air like silk. Her smile seemed to have turned upside down. With a last thrust, he gave up.
"You're never coming back, are you? Like the rest of them."
He opened his eyes and took a step back. Blood rushed out of her neck… disconnected from her head. The veins, nerves, flesh, skin were all cut off. No, they were ripped. He wanted to scream in horror. He felt something touch his feet through his old shoes and refused to look back down because he knew what he was going to see: a head of blood red hair, tainted with her blood, guiltily shed because of him.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't h-have…."
He knew that she was staring back at him, with her emerald eyes filled with an aura of pity.
The walls turned bright silver. Rough and poisoned.
He felt adrenaline rush through his veins as he ran away from the horror.
The blood red curtains disappeared. An almost-full moon glared back at him. He ducked in fear. With his hand clamped over his ears and his eyes shut firmly, he stormed out.
He reached for the innocent doorknob, the one that had struck him with curiosity only minutes ago. In horror, he backed up as he felt the liquid and smelt the metallic odor. Blood dripped down from his guilty hands to the carpet.
But he felt no pain, not anymore. He flung it open without any regrets and was greeted with a warm light.
A loud thud echoed throughout the empty hallways and he collapsed on the floor, his back sliding down against the door. Finally, his bottom touched the ground and he knocked his head against wood.
He stared at his hands, clean and bloodless, and sighed. Tilting his head, he glanced at the door of the Room of Requirement again but found nothing. Nothing. He didn't need it anymore.
Heels clicked against the floor. He heard her pant as she ran towards him in worry.
"Are- are you okay, Remus?"
He looked back at her head and saw her hair flash blood red. His eyes shot in another direction, petrified.
"Remus?"
Reluctantly, he peered back again.
Her bubblegum pink hair, her smile, her stretched arm.
"Why are you sweating? Why are you leaning against that dirty wall and—" she breathed between her questions. "Are you all right?"
He thinned his lips and managed to give a smile that matched hers. "Never better." He took her hand and stood up.
They walked away, never looking back. And Remus Lupin knew that he'd never see that door ever again.
Okay. Here are the rules that I had to follow:
Taking ONE HP character (your choice; no OC's), write what they find when they enter the Room of Requirement. There are certain limitations for this challenge, which are:
- Only ONE character must feature in the fic. They can allude to other characters, but only your chosen character can appear
- NO SHIPS. Room of Requirement fics can descend into smut or fluff fests; which is a shame, when you think of all the possibilities the room can offer
- Although you may have a few brief paragraphs at the beginning/end of your fic outside the room/in another location, the majority of the fic MUST take place in the room
- NO OC's
- All entries must be a minimum of 1000 words
I don't think that this one-shot really had a ship. It was just implied.
A review would be really appreciated!