On a Windswept Cliff (3/9)
Aug. 4th, 2014 04:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starfishstarON A WINDSWEPT CLIFF
Summary:
On the cliff top where the fearsome Lord Black once stalked, an outcast man meets a big black dog, and things are not as they seem.
Or: The Remus/Sirius gothic romance AU.
CHAPTER THREE
Approaching the museum building the next morning, Remus blinked at an unexpected sight: The big black dog, the one he’d seen down on the beach his first morning, was romping through the grass, barking happily as several of Molly’s children chased after him, shrieking and calling out to one another, the sunlight glinting from their bright hair.
Remus looked towards the museum, and Molly emerged from the doorway, surveying the scene and smiling.
“I swear to you, I’ve never seen that dog up here before, only on the beach below the cliffs,” she said. “He must have come up here looking for you, Remus.”
“That would be quite a clever dog, to have figured out where I live,” Remus objected. But then he thought of how the dog had seemed almost to nod in understanding when Remus left the beach that first day, and he wondered.
The black dog made a galloping pass close by the museum door, shaggy dark ears streaming back from his head and an unmistakeable canine grin of joy on his face. Little Ginny, the youngest of the children, came toddling after him. Near her mother’s feet she took a tumble, but got right up again, calling after the dog, “Blackie! Blackie!” Remus could have sworn the dog slowed just enough to allow her to catch up again.
The twins – Fred and George, Remus recalled – and the youngest boy, Ron, came racing up too, shouting, “Blackie Dog! Hey, Blackie!” Percy, the next in age above the twins, who was sitting in a small chair in the sunlight near the museum door and scribbling away at something that looked suspiciously like homework, glanced up in annoyance at his brothers’ shouting.
“The dog’s acquired a name, I see,” Remus said.
Molly sighed. “Don’t expect creativity when you allow a three-year-old to name anything. It’s the reason we’ve got a Cat called Cat.”
Remus chuckled. He could almost picture what the Weasley family’s home must look like, red-headed children tumbling in and out of the door and a Cat called Cat winding around everyone’s ankles. It made for a very cosy image.
Molly smiled fondly after the children a few moments longer, then turned to Remus. “What’s your plan for the day?”
“I do want to be walking the grounds and keeping an eye on things every day, but it’s really not enough work to keep me occupied day in and day out. I was thinking I could spend the mornings helping you with records and things here, and the afternoons doing my rounds. What do you think?”
Molly looked as if she could have flung her arms around Remus in thanks, and only barely restrained herself. There really were a lot of unsorted documents everywhere Remus looked around the place.
Again they sat in the sunlight, sorting and discussing, until a couple of tourists wandered up and Molly broke off her other work so she could show them around.
In the afternoon, Remus did his rounds of the abbey, checking spellwork in every nook and cranny, starting to establish a routine to follow each day so there could be no possibility of missing anything.
In the evening, Molly having already packed up her children and headed down the hill to the village, Remus walked to the edge of the bluff. He glanced back at the abbey, the setting sun going blood red in the western sky behind it, then found the steps that zigzagged down the cliff to the small beach.
The beach was already in shadow, the setting sun obscured by the cliff behind it, and there was a chill in the air. This time, Remus had thought to bring a cloak, and now he wrapped it more tightly around himself.
He’d vaguely thought he might see the black dog again, which had wandered off after a couple hours of playing with the children, but the beach was deserted.
Remus walked for a bit, feeling his shoes sink into the sand, to the end of the beach where he saw that another path wound its way up the bluffs, then back to the point where he’d started. He sat down at the edge of the water, toes just above the tideline, and gazed out into the darkening sky. He imagined the sun behind him, hidden behind the tall crag of the cliff, sinking in last increments beyond the horizon – going, going, gone.
The sky ripened into deepest blue, the moon still low in the east. Stars began to prick the sky.
Remus heard a sound beside him, and turned to see Sirius sitting down on the sand a couple feet away.
“Hello,” Remus said, surprised. He’d thought he’d scared the man off the night before. Had tried to tell himself, in fact, that he hoped he had done, hoped this man would not try to pursue whatever odd friendship might otherwise have grown between them.
But the swooping in his stomach when he turned and saw Sirius told Remus that he hadn’t quite managed to hope that.
“You asked where I live,” Sirius said, without the least word of greeting.
“Yes…?”
“My family are from around here. Were from around here. They’re all dead now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. They were terrible people.”
Remus glanced at Sirius in surprise, but he seemed deadly earnest.
“Anyway,” Sirius said, “my family have all been from here, and I grew up here. I keep a cottage nearby. Over the hills a bit.”
Remus nodded. He had the sense it had cost the man to share even that much.
“My family are all gone, too,” Remus said. He couldn’t believe he was telling this to a near stranger.
“I’m sorry.” Sirius’ voice had gone gentle, utterly opposite to just moments ago, when he’d declared himself glad his own family were dead.
“Thank you,” Remus said. After nearly two decades as an orphan, he still never knew quite what to say in response to people’s sympathy. “My parents died in an – accident. When I was a kid.”
“I’m sorry,” Sirius repeated. Remus looked down and saw that their hands – his left and Sirius’ right – were just inches apart on the pale sand.
At length, Sirius said, “I went to Durmstrang. You probably wondered why you never saw me at good old Hogwarts. Well, that’s why.”
Now Remus glanced at Sirius, but he was staring out at the sea.
“I mean, I know that’s nothing like what you just told me,” Sirius said. “I’m not saying that at all. I’m just saying – everyone has a past, you know? Everybody’s got their dark secrets.”
Remus glanced down again at their hands, which seemed to be even closer somehow, without either of them having moved.
“Attending Durmstrang doesn’t seem like a dark secret,” he said. “I imagine plenty of families choose to send their children there.”
Sirius snorted. “Yeah, and they tend to have very specific reasons for making that choice. You know Lord Black? The reason behind all that?” He jerked his head angrily back towards the abbey on the cliff behind them. “My parents… They sure thought he had the right idea.”
Had Sirius’ parents been Death Eaters? No wonder he hadn’t wanted to tell Remus his family name.
They were quiet, both looking at the sea.
“Who’d you live with?” Sirius asked, after a while.
“What?”
“Who’d you live with, then? After your parents died?”
“I was sent to some distant relatives until it was time to start Hogwarts. After I started school, I used to go home in the summers with my best friend James,” Remus said. Impulsively, he added, “You would have liked James.”
How could he possibly know that, about one man he’d only known three days and another who had been dead for three years? And yet somehow, he felt sure.
“‘Would have’?” Sirius repeated.
“Yeah. He’s, er – he’s dead, too. He and his wife Lily, who was my other closest friend.”
Merlin, but he made his life sound like the most preposterous melodrama, when he listed it out like that. He should have kept his mouth shut.
“I’m so sorry,” Sirius said, very quietly. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”
Remus looked down at the sand in front of him, watched for a while as each successive wave left a lip of white foam at the edge of the beach as it rushed up towards them, then slipped back away.
“Remus,” Sirius said. The sound of it rolled in his mouth like a wonderful secret.
“There are – there are things you don’t know about me, things you don’t understand,” Remus said.
“Believe me, the same is true about me.”
“It’s not safe to be around me. I’ve harmed everyone I’ve cared about. I won’t – I can’t – allow myself to do it again.”
“Remus.”
The force of the word made Remus turn and look at Sirius. Those deep grey eyes. They seemed to bore into Remus even in the dark.
Sirius’ hand shifted on the sand, came and covered Remus’ so lightly it almost wasn’t there. Remus turned his palm up to meet Sirius’, gripped it hard. “I can’t,” he said.
“Can’t you?” Sirius’ voice was a whisper, but it carried clearly over the lapping of the waves.
“No. I really can’t.” Remus closed his eyes. He was not mistaking this. He was not mistaking what was being offered. And even if he couldn’t have that, maybe he could, just once…
He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and leaned over and kissed Sirius. Sirius’ lips were so warm. Remus could have lost himself there, and gladly.
He pulled away, and released the hand in his.
“Good night, Sirius.”
He stood, brushing sand from his trousers, and Sirius just stared up at him, not moving, not speaking.
“I’m sorry,” Remus said.
Still Sirius didn’t speak, just gazed at him with those eyes that seemed to cut right through everything else and get into his soul.
Remus made his way back to the steps that climbed the steep slope of the cliff. As his feet found purchase in the dark, Sirius’ voice drifted up to him together with the rolling waves.
“Good night, Remus.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(continue to Chapter Four)
Summary:
On the cliff top where the fearsome Lord Black once stalked, an outcast man meets a big black dog, and things are not as they seem.
Or: The Remus/Sirius gothic romance AU.
CHAPTER THREE
Approaching the museum building the next morning, Remus blinked at an unexpected sight: The big black dog, the one he’d seen down on the beach his first morning, was romping through the grass, barking happily as several of Molly’s children chased after him, shrieking and calling out to one another, the sunlight glinting from their bright hair.
Remus looked towards the museum, and Molly emerged from the doorway, surveying the scene and smiling.
“I swear to you, I’ve never seen that dog up here before, only on the beach below the cliffs,” she said. “He must have come up here looking for you, Remus.”
“That would be quite a clever dog, to have figured out where I live,” Remus objected. But then he thought of how the dog had seemed almost to nod in understanding when Remus left the beach that first day, and he wondered.
The black dog made a galloping pass close by the museum door, shaggy dark ears streaming back from his head and an unmistakeable canine grin of joy on his face. Little Ginny, the youngest of the children, came toddling after him. Near her mother’s feet she took a tumble, but got right up again, calling after the dog, “Blackie! Blackie!” Remus could have sworn the dog slowed just enough to allow her to catch up again.
The twins – Fred and George, Remus recalled – and the youngest boy, Ron, came racing up too, shouting, “Blackie Dog! Hey, Blackie!” Percy, the next in age above the twins, who was sitting in a small chair in the sunlight near the museum door and scribbling away at something that looked suspiciously like homework, glanced up in annoyance at his brothers’ shouting.
“The dog’s acquired a name, I see,” Remus said.
Molly sighed. “Don’t expect creativity when you allow a three-year-old to name anything. It’s the reason we’ve got a Cat called Cat.”
Remus chuckled. He could almost picture what the Weasley family’s home must look like, red-headed children tumbling in and out of the door and a Cat called Cat winding around everyone’s ankles. It made for a very cosy image.
Molly smiled fondly after the children a few moments longer, then turned to Remus. “What’s your plan for the day?”
“I do want to be walking the grounds and keeping an eye on things every day, but it’s really not enough work to keep me occupied day in and day out. I was thinking I could spend the mornings helping you with records and things here, and the afternoons doing my rounds. What do you think?”
Molly looked as if she could have flung her arms around Remus in thanks, and only barely restrained herself. There really were a lot of unsorted documents everywhere Remus looked around the place.
Again they sat in the sunlight, sorting and discussing, until a couple of tourists wandered up and Molly broke off her other work so she could show them around.
In the afternoon, Remus did his rounds of the abbey, checking spellwork in every nook and cranny, starting to establish a routine to follow each day so there could be no possibility of missing anything.
In the evening, Molly having already packed up her children and headed down the hill to the village, Remus walked to the edge of the bluff. He glanced back at the abbey, the setting sun going blood red in the western sky behind it, then found the steps that zigzagged down the cliff to the small beach.
The beach was already in shadow, the setting sun obscured by the cliff behind it, and there was a chill in the air. This time, Remus had thought to bring a cloak, and now he wrapped it more tightly around himself.
He’d vaguely thought he might see the black dog again, which had wandered off after a couple hours of playing with the children, but the beach was deserted.
Remus walked for a bit, feeling his shoes sink into the sand, to the end of the beach where he saw that another path wound its way up the bluffs, then back to the point where he’d started. He sat down at the edge of the water, toes just above the tideline, and gazed out into the darkening sky. He imagined the sun behind him, hidden behind the tall crag of the cliff, sinking in last increments beyond the horizon – going, going, gone.
The sky ripened into deepest blue, the moon still low in the east. Stars began to prick the sky.
Remus heard a sound beside him, and turned to see Sirius sitting down on the sand a couple feet away.
“Hello,” Remus said, surprised. He’d thought he’d scared the man off the night before. Had tried to tell himself, in fact, that he hoped he had done, hoped this man would not try to pursue whatever odd friendship might otherwise have grown between them.
But the swooping in his stomach when he turned and saw Sirius told Remus that he hadn’t quite managed to hope that.
“You asked where I live,” Sirius said, without the least word of greeting.
“Yes…?”
“My family are from around here. Were from around here. They’re all dead now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. They were terrible people.”
Remus glanced at Sirius in surprise, but he seemed deadly earnest.
“Anyway,” Sirius said, “my family have all been from here, and I grew up here. I keep a cottage nearby. Over the hills a bit.”
Remus nodded. He had the sense it had cost the man to share even that much.
“My family are all gone, too,” Remus said. He couldn’t believe he was telling this to a near stranger.
“I’m sorry.” Sirius’ voice had gone gentle, utterly opposite to just moments ago, when he’d declared himself glad his own family were dead.
“Thank you,” Remus said. After nearly two decades as an orphan, he still never knew quite what to say in response to people’s sympathy. “My parents died in an – accident. When I was a kid.”
“I’m sorry,” Sirius repeated. Remus looked down and saw that their hands – his left and Sirius’ right – were just inches apart on the pale sand.
At length, Sirius said, “I went to Durmstrang. You probably wondered why you never saw me at good old Hogwarts. Well, that’s why.”
Now Remus glanced at Sirius, but he was staring out at the sea.
“I mean, I know that’s nothing like what you just told me,” Sirius said. “I’m not saying that at all. I’m just saying – everyone has a past, you know? Everybody’s got their dark secrets.”
Remus glanced down again at their hands, which seemed to be even closer somehow, without either of them having moved.
“Attending Durmstrang doesn’t seem like a dark secret,” he said. “I imagine plenty of families choose to send their children there.”
Sirius snorted. “Yeah, and they tend to have very specific reasons for making that choice. You know Lord Black? The reason behind all that?” He jerked his head angrily back towards the abbey on the cliff behind them. “My parents… They sure thought he had the right idea.”
Had Sirius’ parents been Death Eaters? No wonder he hadn’t wanted to tell Remus his family name.
They were quiet, both looking at the sea.
“Who’d you live with?” Sirius asked, after a while.
“What?”
“Who’d you live with, then? After your parents died?”
“I was sent to some distant relatives until it was time to start Hogwarts. After I started school, I used to go home in the summers with my best friend James,” Remus said. Impulsively, he added, “You would have liked James.”
How could he possibly know that, about one man he’d only known three days and another who had been dead for three years? And yet somehow, he felt sure.
“‘Would have’?” Sirius repeated.
“Yeah. He’s, er – he’s dead, too. He and his wife Lily, who was my other closest friend.”
Merlin, but he made his life sound like the most preposterous melodrama, when he listed it out like that. He should have kept his mouth shut.
“I’m so sorry,” Sirius said, very quietly. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”
Remus looked down at the sand in front of him, watched for a while as each successive wave left a lip of white foam at the edge of the beach as it rushed up towards them, then slipped back away.
“Remus,” Sirius said. The sound of it rolled in his mouth like a wonderful secret.
“There are – there are things you don’t know about me, things you don’t understand,” Remus said.
“Believe me, the same is true about me.”
“It’s not safe to be around me. I’ve harmed everyone I’ve cared about. I won’t – I can’t – allow myself to do it again.”
“Remus.”
The force of the word made Remus turn and look at Sirius. Those deep grey eyes. They seemed to bore into Remus even in the dark.
Sirius’ hand shifted on the sand, came and covered Remus’ so lightly it almost wasn’t there. Remus turned his palm up to meet Sirius’, gripped it hard. “I can’t,” he said.
“Can’t you?” Sirius’ voice was a whisper, but it carried clearly over the lapping of the waves.
“No. I really can’t.” Remus closed his eyes. He was not mistaking this. He was not mistaking what was being offered. And even if he couldn’t have that, maybe he could, just once…
He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and leaned over and kissed Sirius. Sirius’ lips were so warm. Remus could have lost himself there, and gladly.
He pulled away, and released the hand in his.
“Good night, Sirius.”
He stood, brushing sand from his trousers, and Sirius just stared up at him, not moving, not speaking.
“I’m sorry,” Remus said.
Still Sirius didn’t speak, just gazed at him with those eyes that seemed to cut right through everything else and get into his soul.
Remus made his way back to the steps that climbed the steep slope of the cliff. As his feet found purchase in the dark, Sirius’ voice drifted up to him together with the rolling waves.
“Good night, Remus.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(continue to Chapter Four)
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no subject
Date: 2014-08-05 03:22 am (UTC)So this time Sirius comes back, with secrets to offer up. I get the feeling he must be very taken with Remus if he's opening up like that -- assuming he's from the awful Lord Black's family, I'm sure he doesn't go around opening up to many people. I can picture him thinking about it all night (and then I suppose he romped around with the Weasleys to clear his head, if he is the dog...)
Nice and dark and tortured -- very Gothic. Despite the bright happy Weasleys, heh.
no subject
Date: 2014-08-05 04:40 pm (UTC)So glad this comes across as gothic – it was definitely very much a new style to write in for me.