Fic: In the Still of the Night
Jan. 31st, 2018 11:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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rt_moreloveAuthor: shimotsuki
Title: In the Still of the Night
Rating & Warnings: PG; AU and wish-fulfillment
Word Count: 297 words
Prompt(s): 29, Battle of Hogwarts, and 40, turquoise and pink
Summary: Three o’ clock in the morning, in the hospital wing.
Notes: A post-war AU drabble. Set very shortly after By a Thread. Because I’ve been thinking about Deathly Hallows lately and needed an antidote. :)
In the Still of the Night
Remus found himself awake in the dim torchlight of the hospital wing, feeling slightly feverish and aching all over—especially his stomach, where Dolohov had landed entirely too solid a Sectumsempra. It hurt about as much as the morning after a bad moon, and that was saying something.
Who would have thought he would ever be so glad to feel this much pain?
Curled up beside him in the hospital bed that Madam Pomfrey had spelled extra-wide, with a large white bandage on her own head, was Dora. Living, breathing, sound asleep. Her hand rested on his arm, and the corner of her mouth curled into a tiny smile that widened a little when he brushed his fingers over hers.
On Dora’s side of the bed was a Moses basket, where Teddy slept, quiet now, but wriggling in a way that suggested he might be demanding a meal before very much longer. Teddy. Remus’s son. Something he had never, ever, thought he would have.
Life was not, of course, a fairy tale, just because Voldemort had been vanquished. Fred was gone. Harry had told him that today. And he knew that Severus was dead—and had been working for the Order all along—because he had seen him (just long enough to earn a sneer and a couple of insults) on the other side. Remus hated to think of Molly and Arthur’s loss, and hated to think of just how bitter and thankless most of Severus’s life had been. Sirius was still gone, and Ted, and Dumbledore. So many things should have turned out differently.
And yet.
Remus, breathing careful shallow breaths around the pain, twined his fingers gently with Dora’s and watched the tiny wriggles in the Moses basket.
He was home. For real.
For good.
.
shimotsukiTitle: In the Still of the Night
Rating & Warnings: PG; AU and wish-fulfillment
Word Count: 297 words
Prompt(s): 29, Battle of Hogwarts, and 40, turquoise and pink
Summary: Three o’ clock in the morning, in the hospital wing.
Notes: A post-war AU drabble. Set very shortly after By a Thread. Because I’ve been thinking about Deathly Hallows lately and needed an antidote. :)
In the Still of the Night
Remus found himself awake in the dim torchlight of the hospital wing, feeling slightly feverish and aching all over—especially his stomach, where Dolohov had landed entirely too solid a Sectumsempra. It hurt about as much as the morning after a bad moon, and that was saying something.
Who would have thought he would ever be so glad to feel this much pain?
Curled up beside him in the hospital bed that Madam Pomfrey had spelled extra-wide, with a large white bandage on her own head, was Dora. Living, breathing, sound asleep. Her hand rested on his arm, and the corner of her mouth curled into a tiny smile that widened a little when he brushed his fingers over hers.
On Dora’s side of the bed was a Moses basket, where Teddy slept, quiet now, but wriggling in a way that suggested he might be demanding a meal before very much longer. Teddy. Remus’s son. Something he had never, ever, thought he would have.
Life was not, of course, a fairy tale, just because Voldemort had been vanquished. Fred was gone. Harry had told him that today. And he knew that Severus was dead—and had been working for the Order all along—because he had seen him (just long enough to earn a sneer and a couple of insults) on the other side. Remus hated to think of Molly and Arthur’s loss, and hated to think of just how bitter and thankless most of Severus’s life had been. Sirius was still gone, and Ted, and Dumbledore. So many things should have turned out differently.
And yet.
Remus, breathing careful shallow breaths around the pain, twined his fingers gently with Dora’s and watched the tiny wriggles in the Moses basket.
He was home. For real.
For good.
.