scribbulus_ink & dawns56
Author: scribbulus_ink
Title: Leather in the Dark
Pairing: Remus/MacNair
Challenge: Kiss the boot of shiny shiny leather/shiny leather in the dark - Velvet Underground, Venus in Furs
Remus huddled in one corner of the cold, dank cell, enveloped in shadow. He didn't know how long he had been there; his sense of time had vanished, the day marked not by the rising and setting of the sun, but by the arrival of his jailors bearing food. Only then did he know whether it was morning, afternoon, or evening.
He hadn't transformed yet, but he knew it was imminent, the familiar feeling of being too large for his skin warning him that the full moon was growing closer. He was surprised he hadn't already been killed, and he suspected they were waiting until he was in beast form so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about executing a human.
Sometimes, Macnair came and made promises to stay Remus' execution in exchange for services rendered. Remus didn't believe it; he doubted Macnair possessed either the power or influence to spare the life of a condemned werewolf.
Yet he knelt anyway, the scent of mud and old leather filling his nose as he touched his forehead to Macnair's boot and hoped that his obedience would buy him a swift and merciful death.
Author: dawns56
Title: Save You
Rating: R
Word Count: Squeaks by on a thousand if it's dark and you squint really hard.
Warnings: Questionable consent
Summary: Desperate men have a language all their own.
Remus huddled in one corner of the cold, dank cell, enveloped in shadow. He didn't know how long he had been there; his sense of time had vanished, the day marked not by the rising and setting of the sun, but by the arrival of his jailors bearing food. Only then did he know whether it was morning, afternoon, or evening.
He hadn't transformed yet, but he knew it was imminent, the familiar feeling of being too large for his skin warning him that the full moon was growing closer. He was surprised he hadn't already been killed, and he suspected they were waiting until he was in beast form so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about executing a human.
Sometimes, Macnair came and made promises to stay Remus' execution in exchange for services rendered. Remus didn't believe it; he doubted Macnair possessed either the power or influence to spare the life of a condemned werewolf.
Yet he knelt anyway, the scent of mud and old leather filling his nose as he touched his forehead to Macnair's boot and hoped that his obedience would buy him a swift and merciful death.
***
Remus was not a romantic or a poet. He was a survivor--the werewolf in him assured of that. He didn’t think of death as beautiful, but he couldn’t say the same of Macnair, who came into his cell each night, silent as moonlight, lips compressed into a thin line and eyes cold.
A look and Remus’ silent acquiescence, nothing else. Words were inadequate and completely unnecessary.
Desperate men have a language all their own.
***
Afterwards, Macnair would caress Remus’ face softly, as if they were lovers rather than prisoner and captor. He would talk quietly while Remus silently choked on words. Then without explanation, Macnair would jerk his body away as if burned. Remus seemed to hurt him, to represent some kind of invisible line--one that he alone was privy to.
Remus thought that was funny in a twisted sort of way. He didn’t have any lines left.
***
Macnair had once promised to stay his execution in exchange for his services, but after a while, the lies changed. Macnair thought he was going to do better than stay his execution. He was going to save him, he promised between gasps and fevered kissed that Remus would turn his face away from.
***
Words whispered in his ear with an urgency and earnestness that Remus had not believed a Death Eater capable of. “I will set you free.”
“No, you won’t,” Remus replied with the same amount of certainty.
***
He hated it when Macnair lied, Remus told himself while trying not to let his mind wander through the alternatives.
Sirius once told him that assured death was the most formidable weapon in the hands of a damned man. A man who knew he was dying had nothing to lose and could only rely on pure survival instincts. He could use the fear to clear his head because death was something sharp and bright, a nearly tangible thing to focus on. Remus closed his eyes. There was nothing to see in here.
***
Soft gasps of pain. Low moans. Blood rushing audibly through veins.
“I will set you free.”
Manic laughter. “No you won’t.”
***
Remus awaited Macnair's visits with more than a little trepidation.
His transformation was at hand, a tightening of his skin and a sharpening of his senses. Remus could hear the fragile threads that kept him together breaking with audible snaps. He was going mad, slowly losing control of all that he was and the part of him that was entirely human knew it and despaired.
The smell of filth and fear painfully assaulted his senses, but no more than the vines of deceit he imagined weaving around the room darkly with sharp edges and cutting thorns.
***
I will set you free.
I will set you free.
I will set you free…
He wanted to stop the mantra, the hollow bit of hope it stirred up in his chest like unsettled dust in a quiet place long forgotten. Sirius had always said with great pride that Remus was the bravest and strongest of them all. He wondered what Sirius would think of him now.
***
His body expanded to the point of feeling as if his skin would rip and fall to the floor in bloody strips. He clawed at his body trying to escape too small skin as he ricocheted off the stone walls in a mad, frenzied dance.
Someone entered his cell and as he turned, he felt a new pain tear through his body. Fire.
He had never felt this during his transformation. This was real, this was a pain that brought him back to himself. So entirely, inexplicably human. He fell to the ground, his transition halted while Macnair watched from the door with dark, hopeless eyes and a smoking gun.
No, not fire then. A silver bullet.
Something metallic hit the ground, followed by low, animalistic moans that echoed against unforgiving stone. The pain was burning him from the inside out, hollowing him until he had no choice but to cave in. He felt a cool hand on his face and warm questing lips press against his cheek, but he closed his eyes and turned his face away until the touch retreated.
Sirius.
Remus had never before hoped that Sirius was dead. He did now.
As he lay on the hard floor, Remus listened to the raw, harsh sobs bounce across coldness and space, then dissolve into the shadows where they bled together and became nothing.
I will set you free.
***
finis.
***
Title: Leather in the Dark
Pairing: Remus/MacNair
Challenge: Kiss the boot of shiny shiny leather/shiny leather in the dark - Velvet Underground, Venus in Furs
Remus huddled in one corner of the cold, dank cell, enveloped in shadow. He didn't know how long he had been there; his sense of time had vanished, the day marked not by the rising and setting of the sun, but by the arrival of his jailors bearing food. Only then did he know whether it was morning, afternoon, or evening.
He hadn't transformed yet, but he knew it was imminent, the familiar feeling of being too large for his skin warning him that the full moon was growing closer. He was surprised he hadn't already been killed, and he suspected they were waiting until he was in beast form so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about executing a human.
Sometimes, Macnair came and made promises to stay Remus' execution in exchange for services rendered. Remus didn't believe it; he doubted Macnair possessed either the power or influence to spare the life of a condemned werewolf.
Yet he knelt anyway, the scent of mud and old leather filling his nose as he touched his forehead to Macnair's boot and hoped that his obedience would buy him a swift and merciful death.
Author: dawns56
Title: Save You
Rating: R
Word Count: Squeaks by on a thousand if it's dark and you squint really hard.
Warnings: Questionable consent
Summary: Desperate men have a language all their own.
Remus huddled in one corner of the cold, dank cell, enveloped in shadow. He didn't know how long he had been there; his sense of time had vanished, the day marked not by the rising and setting of the sun, but by the arrival of his jailors bearing food. Only then did he know whether it was morning, afternoon, or evening.
He hadn't transformed yet, but he knew it was imminent, the familiar feeling of being too large for his skin warning him that the full moon was growing closer. He was surprised he hadn't already been killed, and he suspected they were waiting until he was in beast form so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about executing a human.
Sometimes, Macnair came and made promises to stay Remus' execution in exchange for services rendered. Remus didn't believe it; he doubted Macnair possessed either the power or influence to spare the life of a condemned werewolf.
Yet he knelt anyway, the scent of mud and old leather filling his nose as he touched his forehead to Macnair's boot and hoped that his obedience would buy him a swift and merciful death.
***
Remus was not a romantic or a poet. He was a survivor--the werewolf in him assured of that. He didn’t think of death as beautiful, but he couldn’t say the same of Macnair, who came into his cell each night, silent as moonlight, lips compressed into a thin line and eyes cold.
A look and Remus’ silent acquiescence, nothing else. Words were inadequate and completely unnecessary.
Desperate men have a language all their own.
***
Afterwards, Macnair would caress Remus’ face softly, as if they were lovers rather than prisoner and captor. He would talk quietly while Remus silently choked on words. Then without explanation, Macnair would jerk his body away as if burned. Remus seemed to hurt him, to represent some kind of invisible line--one that he alone was privy to.
Remus thought that was funny in a twisted sort of way. He didn’t have any lines left.
***
Macnair had once promised to stay his execution in exchange for his services, but after a while, the lies changed. Macnair thought he was going to do better than stay his execution. He was going to save him, he promised between gasps and fevered kissed that Remus would turn his face away from.
***
Words whispered in his ear with an urgency and earnestness that Remus had not believed a Death Eater capable of. “I will set you free.”
“No, you won’t,” Remus replied with the same amount of certainty.
***
He hated it when Macnair lied, Remus told himself while trying not to let his mind wander through the alternatives.
Sirius once told him that assured death was the most formidable weapon in the hands of a damned man. A man who knew he was dying had nothing to lose and could only rely on pure survival instincts. He could use the fear to clear his head because death was something sharp and bright, a nearly tangible thing to focus on. Remus closed his eyes. There was nothing to see in here.
***
Soft gasps of pain. Low moans. Blood rushing audibly through veins.
“I will set you free.”
Manic laughter. “No you won’t.”
***
Remus awaited Macnair's visits with more than a little trepidation.
His transformation was at hand, a tightening of his skin and a sharpening of his senses. Remus could hear the fragile threads that kept him together breaking with audible snaps. He was going mad, slowly losing control of all that he was and the part of him that was entirely human knew it and despaired.
The smell of filth and fear painfully assaulted his senses, but no more than the vines of deceit he imagined weaving around the room darkly with sharp edges and cutting thorns.
***
I will set you free.
I will set you free.
I will set you free…
He wanted to stop the mantra, the hollow bit of hope it stirred up in his chest like unsettled dust in a quiet place long forgotten. Sirius had always said with great pride that Remus was the bravest and strongest of them all. He wondered what Sirius would think of him now.
***
His body expanded to the point of feeling as if his skin would rip and fall to the floor in bloody strips. He clawed at his body trying to escape too small skin as he ricocheted off the stone walls in a mad, frenzied dance.
Someone entered his cell and as he turned, he felt a new pain tear through his body. Fire.
He had never felt this during his transformation. This was real, this was a pain that brought him back to himself. So entirely, inexplicably human. He fell to the ground, his transition halted while Macnair watched from the door with dark, hopeless eyes and a smoking gun.
No, not fire then. A silver bullet.
Something metallic hit the ground, followed by low, animalistic moans that echoed against unforgiving stone. The pain was burning him from the inside out, hollowing him until he had no choice but to cave in. He felt a cool hand on his face and warm questing lips press against his cheek, but he closed his eyes and turned his face away until the touch retreated.
Sirius.
Remus had never before hoped that Sirius was dead. He did now.
As he lay on the hard floor, Remus listened to the raw, harsh sobs bounce across coldness and space, then dissolve into the shadows where they bled together and became nothing.
I will set you free.
***
finis.
***