Fic: Wake Me Up When the Morning Comes (R/S)

[fox_confessor]

Title: Wake Me Up When the Morning Comes
Author: escribo (Dani)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3400
Summary: Is it possible to find love in the middle of a war?
Notes: Written for rs_games Team Canon for the song prompt "Case of You" by Joni Mitchell. Thanks kiltsandlollies for the beta!



It was cold, the smell of snow on the wind, and Remus jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his threadbare cloak, trying to keep warm. There was a meeting of the Order that night, but he would miss it, just like he had missed the last one and the one before that. If he let himself think about it too hard, he would begin to wonder if Professor Dumbledore was purposely excluding him. He definitely tried not to think about it too hard, but the problem had become that he had entirely too much time lately with only his own thoughts for company.

Tonight, barely a week since the last full, he sat with his back against a tree and his eyes on a ramshackle farmhouse at the end of a field left fallow. There had been whispers about this corner of the country--strange men seen walking abroad after midnight, bright lights in the sky before dawn, rumors from the Muggles of banshees, even the Grim--though Remus was sure that last had been Sirius, who'd had patrol somewhere near here in the last month. They also said the Morrigan walked these hills again, and though Remus knew she was nothing more than a legend to Muggles and Wizards alike, he couldn't help but remember his Irish mother's stories of the war goddess and the chill of fear he'd get on hearing their telling, though he'd always begged for more.

Of course, Remus knew he was considered a myth to Muggles, too, so he was careful not to discount everything he’d been told; every myth had some basis in truth. A Wizard and a werewolf, he knew those particular stories well, collected them like beads on a chain. He'd thought once that he would teach mythology at a Muggle university, back when he'd been free to dream of such things. James had jokingly called him Professor Lupin all through fifth year, until they'd had their career consultations and Remus had finally understood that there were no paths available to him at all.

Now, he had the war, and the guilt of enjoying it because it gave him something to do after school, some way to be useful. While James and Lily planned their wedding and feared the gathering storm clouds on behalf of their future children and children's children, and Peter simply never looked up to see them, Remus and Sirius raced toward the horizon. Remus hated that this was what he had in common with Sirius now, though it mattered little, because the war for Sirius meant flash and heroic deeds and romantic partners at every turn. It was the way the Order used Sirius to their best advantage; his smile and devil-may-care manner meant recruitment was up, as women wanted to get close to him and men wanted to be him.

For Remus, the war meant cold nights and lonely beds, gnawing hunger and the persistent memories of a love he had harboured for years for that same Golden Boy of the Order. Crush, he amended, adolescent and very much one-sided and inevitably embarrassing. That Sirius had been his northern star burning hot and bright, constant for years, had escaped no one's attention, not even that of Sirius, Remus was sure. It was worse, in some ways, for his friends to know that than for them to know he was a werewolf. At least his lycanthropy was something they knew how to handle--acceptable on some strange level.

As night began to fall and the temperature dropped, Remus thought about returning to London unannounced and uncalled for. He practiced what he would say. It's empty. Abandoned. The rumors are untrue. I set fire to it and came home. He could do it, too. With just a flick of his wrist and an Incendio, the whole place would go up like so many matchsticks and he could sit warm between James and Sirius, and listen to Dorcas Meadowes read her report about any one of a myriad ways that the Ministry denied the existence of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Afterward, he could talk Sirius into going down to a pub for a warm dinner and even warmer smiles.

Remus shifted where he sat, worrying his chapped lips between his teeth. There were no guarantees that Sirius would be at the meeting, or that he'd be so easily talked into a meal with an old friend if Jessmina Patil or Greta Monaghan batted their eyelashes in his direction. Remus would end up alone, unless James and Lily took pity on him, or worse, he'd end up with Peter and Samantha. Better to stay and see his assignment through, he decided, than to be rebuffed by Sirius or try to muster up enough goodwill to be honestly happy for his friends.

A murder of crows rose up from the field, disturbing his thoughts and twisting in the wind, their caws echoing in the twilight. Remus drew his wand without thinking and slowly climbed to his feet, careful to keep in the shadows. For a moment, he thought he saw Sirius crossing the field, his black hair longer than it'd been the last time they'd met, and whipped by the wind. Remus raised his hand in greeting before he realized it was not his friend, but a tall woman wrapped in a black cloak. She had a mouth like Sirius', but her eyes burned like coals, and Remus stood his ground even whilst fear needled the edges of his consciousness and told him to run.

She stopped at the bank of a small irrigation ditch that separated the woods from the field, and raised her hand, beckoning him forward. "We guard your death, Remus Lupin, and the deaths of your friends."

"Who are you?"

"We have been called many things, but you know us as a myth, the Morrigan."

Her voice echoed in his ears though Remus never saw her mouth move, and he suddenly remembered the names of the three sisters: Badb, Macha, and Nemain. He clutched his wand more firmly and didn't dare let his voice waver when he spoke. "My mother told me you walk the battlefields and claim the lives of soldiers. Am I going to die?"

"There are prophecies, if you would hear them."

"I don't know," Remus breathed out. An image of Sirius came to him unbidden, the things Remus wanted to say to him, wanted to do. He felt chilled to his core that it might be too late. "If you tell me that I would die tomorrow, could I change it?"

The woman tilted her head and spread her hands wide in front of her, the question left unanswered. "Choose what you would hear, of death, betrayal, or love. It is all that we offer."

Remus drew himself up straight and tall, his muscles burning as he held himself still. He could not banish the thought of Sirius, and was shocked to discover that it was news of his death that Remus feared the most. Betrayal was equally abhorrent, and Remus shook his head. If it couldn't be changed, then what would hearing one do without the other. He felt a coward when he bit out his choice. "Love."

The Morrigan's lips twitched into what might have been a smile at any other time or place, on any other creature, and Remus was again reminded strongly of Sirius, of the way he grinned when a plan was afoot and gave a lopsided smile when he was sure he was winning, whatever the game. It made Remus feel laid bare, wishing he hadn't spoken at all.

"Very well. There is one to whom your thoughts have frequently turned. Go to him, stay with him if you can, but be prepared to bleed."

"I don't understand."

"It is all that we offer."

"Wait, please." Remus took another step forward, but the Morrigan was gone and the surrounding field quiet and still. He could see a light burning now at the farmhouse and gave a start, knowing he was visible and unprotected. "Madness," he whispered, but his hands still shook as he drew his tattered traveling cloak tighter around his shoulders and began to edge his way closer.

Nearer the house was a small barn, its paint long worn away by the rain and wind, which leaned precariously enough that the next storm might finish it off. Firewood was stacked against it, as if the farmer had expected to come back for one more winter. A familiar large, black dog hid in the shadows and perked its ears as it caught Remus' scent.

"What are you doing here, Padfoot?"

Sirius transformed when Remus spoke, though he stayed crouched on the ground, alert. "They told me they had news of Regulus, about where I could find him. His body."

"Who did?"

"Bellatrix."

"Did you stop to consider it could be a trap?" Sirius' cheeks flared red and he huffed, looking away from Remus, and didn't answer. Of course he hadn't considered it. "Does James at least know where you're at? Sirius, you can’t just--"

"Don’t lecture. I was watching for who would come or go," Sirius snapped out and then eased the sting of his quicksilver temper with the same smile he'd used to get himself out of trouble while they were at Hogwarts. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Sent by the Order."

"I asked after you earlier, to Moody, Dumbledore, and some of the others. They said they didn't know where you were."

"I'm on a mission. You know they wouldn't tell you anything, and I can't either, before you ask." Remus settled onto his haunches next to Sirius, his eyes on the light that glowed bright in the farmhouse.

"I thought I heard your voice before you came up. Were you talking to someone?"

"No," Remus said, though he knew Sirius could always see through his lies. "It was my imagination. I've been out here so long, I've started to see things."

"Not imagining that light, though."

"No. Did you see anyone?"

"No, but we might if we move closer."

Remus cursed as Sirius transformed again into Padfoot and ran low to the ground toward the house. He could barely make out the dog's shape, as only the last rays of light made long shadows of the trees. Remus tried to shake off the dread that clung to him, to dismiss the words of the Morrigan, but couldn't. More, he remembered that his first fear had been that he would never have the chance to explain to Sirius how he felt. He knew that it was perhaps the worst time to even think about making any ridiculous declarations as he watched Sirius transform back and stretch to look into the windows, but he couldn't but think, rather unhelpfully, what if this is it. What if this is the only chance you have.

Tapping the top of his head with his wand, Remus muttered a disillusionment charm and followed after Sirius. He began to run across the open space but he knew immediately that it had been a mistake. It had been a trap and Sirius was spotted. A loud cry like a caw pierced the night air and suddenly Sirius was surrounded by Death Eaters, their faces covered by masks. He dodged the worst of the curses that were thrown at him but crumbled beneath a hex delivered by Bellatrix, her high pitched laugh giving her away. Remus yelled out in anger and fear, calling for Sirius, even as he did what he had threatened and set the house ablaze. The Death Eaters hadn’t expected Remus, and certainly hadn’t expected a conflagration as the rotted wood caught and burned like an inferno from the strength of his spell. Their Aquamenti came too late, and Bellatrix’s laughter turned to screams of rage as Remus grabbed Sirius and Apparated them both away.

Remus hopscotched them across the island, hoping the Death Eaters couldn’t follow and praying that Sirius would survive the trip. Finally at a safehouse in London, Remus was able to call for help, his Patronus summoning James and Moody, who were soon followed by other members of the Order. Sirius was pale beneath his shock of black hair, a thin line of blood smeared across his cheek, but Remus took comfort in the fact that he was still breathing. James had to pull Remus away so that others could help Sirius. It was hours later, when the danger had passed and they'd been assured that Sirius needed nothing more than a few days' rest to heal, that Dumbledore and James found Remus in the kitchen, his hand curled around a cup of cold tea and a ceramic bowl filled with ash and discarded cigarettes.

"I thought you gave that up," James said as he sat across from Remus.

"Seemed like maybe a good time to start again."

"Are those Sirius'?"

"I took them from his jacket."

"You're bleeding."

Remus touched his forehead gingerly and looked at his fingers. "I'm alright. It's mostly stopped now. How is he?"

"Sleeping. Lily's watching him. I’ll go stay with him so you two can talk." James left Remus alone with Professor Dumbledore, squeezing Remus' shoulder as he passed.

"What happened, Remus?"

"I don't know. It was so strange," Remus began, daring to look up at Dumbledore for the first time, and confided to him about the Morrigan and the prophecy, though he had already decided not to because it made him feel stupid and weak. Dumbledore only interrupted twice to ask questions but never laughed or reproached him, and Remus was grateful enough to say out loud what he'd only been thinking before. "I should have chosen death or betrayal, when she offered me the choice. The information might have been useful, but I was afraid."

"No one can predict how valuable a prophecy may be. It is an imperfect science, as you well know, and more often than not, depends on faith. I think you showed a great deal of courage. Not many would have been able to face the Morrigan."

"It wasn't just that, though." Remus rubbed his hands over his face and then reached for the pack of cigarettes again before crumpling the empty carton. "I wanted to know. It was selfish of me, but I wanted to know."

Dumbledore smiled kindly at Remus and stood, shaking out his robes. "Sirius was betrayed into going there for information about his brother, and you both nearly died. I think that likely sorts the Morrigan's prophecies nicely. She deals in war, Remus. Her prophecies never look long into the future."

"Then my prophecy for love?" Remus asked, embarrassed enough that his cheeks burned though he still looked at Dumbledore steadily. "It was just rubbish, wasn't it."

"That remains to be seen." Dumbledore winked at him, his lips quirked into a strange smile, and Remus looked back down at his hands.

Weeks later, Remus still thought often about that conversation with Dumbledore and about Sirius lying still and pale as he had been when Remus had finally got them to safety. He'd been afraid to ask about Sirius, other than making sure he was alive and well if shaken. It was for the best, Remus had convinced himself. Instead, he took missions, volunteering for anything that would take him out of London and far away from Sirius, and pointedly ignored invitations from James and Lily. He doubted Dumbledore's opinion of his bravery, taking himself for the worst kind of coward.

It was in this state that Remus found himself in a Muggle pub on the night before he was meant to leave for Canada as part of an envoy to escort back a known Death Eater turned spy. He was tucked away in a booth in the back, and the wine he was drinking was bitter on his tongue. It was late, late enough that he was nearly alone with a barkeep who'd grown tired of watching the flickering television screen that hung above the bar, and now dozed, leaning back on two legs of his stool.

"You're hard to find."

Remus gave a start when Sirius spoke to him, the wine in his glass sloshing over his hand. He cursed softly and reached for a napkin, mopping himself and the scarred table. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. We were worried about you."

"We?"

"James and me. You didn't tell us where you would be at the full."

"I was on a mission. I was secure enough where I was."

"It's not about that, and you know it. I don't like not being there with you."

Remus looked away, not able to meet Sirius' eyes--not trusting himself. Instead, he listened as Sirius ordered a drink, a refill for Remus, and paid, leaving the barkeep to slide back into sleep as they drank in silence.

"Is that me?"

Remus looked down at the rough sketch he'd made on the back of a carton coaster. He flipped it over and pushed it away, embarrassed.

"James told me about the prophecies," Sirius said, picking up the coaster and turning to look at the picture. "I never believed in Divination."

"I know. You didn't last the first month out in third year before you were making the crystal balls explode out of boredom."

"He said you were bothered, though. That this was different. That you had a vision of the Morrigan."

"Wasn't a vision."

"So what did she say?"

Remus shook his head and gave a moue as dismissal. He'd grown up with the stories but he knew Sirius hadn't, and would probably find them ridiculous; not to mention there was no way Remus could tell Sirius without making confessions that he felt were definitely best left unsaid. He reached instead for his empty glass and rolled it between his hands, fishing for something to say. "You scared the hell out of me that night."

"I'm sorry."

"I thought I'd lost you."

"Is that why you've been avoiding me? That's not going to happen."

"It might though, right? I mean, this is war, and we're just foot soldiers."

"Is that what she told you? That I was going to die."

"No!"

"Then tell me what it was. Something has you tied up in knots."

"It's nothing, Sirius. She's a myth, right? Your mother didn't teach you to believe in myths."

"She didn’t teach me to believe in a lot of things. That's what I have you for, to teach me about fairytales and happy endings and love. All those things that don't actually exist."

Remus grunted out a laugh and lowered his head so that his hair fell into his face. "As if you'd listen to me."

Sirius barked out a laugh and tipped Remus' chin up. His eyes sparked pale gray, like the sea when it stormed and just as intense, and Remus found he couldn't look away. Sirius pressed his fingers harder against Remus' skin, and Remus trembled slightly, waiting for an answer.

"I do," Sirius said. "For example, you told me once that love is touching souls."

"I can't imagine ever having said that out loud."

"You were always filled with such rubbish. Especially when you were drunk."

"Did you believe me?"

"I wanted to." Sirius leaned in then and kissed Remus, only just the most hesitant brush of lips, and Remus held his breath. "You touched my soul, Remus."

Sirius smiled at him but it faded quickly, and Remus moved closer, unsure if he could or should touch Sirius but wanting to until his very fingers burned with the need. When he looked back up at Sirius' face, he saw the same patience that Remus had sometimes seen from Professor McGonagall when she was helping a student work through a problem, waiting on them to come up with the answer on their own, and it suddenly clicked into place. Quickly, before he could think about it too hard, Remus leaned in and kissed Sirius hard, surprised when he felt rather than saw Sirius' smile return.

Comments

[phiso-kun.livejournal.com]

AHHH this is so unbelievably awesome I can't believe I didn't have time during the actual games to read it. But that's okay, because I get to read it now!

This was chilling and sweet all at once. The Morrigan scene was written perfectly; the name still sounds ominous to me, and now you have me very curious about old Irish legends. I love it when people take mythology and add it to their stories; it never fails to add a strange sense of grounding.

So awesome. <3

[escribo.livejournal.com]

Clearly I just found comments! Hello again :D Thank you again for reading and enjoying and commenting! Mythology seems to fit very well into the HP stories. Rowling used so much of it herself, it seems a shame not to kind of take advantage of that. Anyway, another book I love uses the Morrigan as a really great character and I couldn't resist here.