7spells fic
Title: five shades of white
Pairing/Rating: Remus/James/Sirius, Remus/Severus; R
Summary: Although typically a response to maximum stimulation of the retina, the perception of white appears always to depend on contrast.
A/N: Written for 7spells. The prompt is the title.
The achromatic color of maximum lightness;
If they have a mascot, it’s the moon. There’s a sick humor in that, and it does make Remus physically ill when he thinks about it too much. To James and Sirius, the moon is an opportunity, a possibility, a void to be filled with as much noise and misbehavior as they can muster. They play the moon like an instrument, they look forward to its waxing with an alarming, manic eagerness. And sometimes, when he wakes up pressed between them, skin stuck to skin with sweat and mud, Remus does wonder if he’s not just like the moon-a chance for mischief, some bit of wickedness that feels wrong and weird and edgy enough to be fun.
the color of objects that reflect nearly all light of all visible wavelengths;
There is a lot to be said of James and Sirius, the sovereign entity unto itself. James alone is simply bored, and Sirius alone is simply dangerous. When functioning as a unit, they are a force to be reckoned with. No one can not react to James and Sirius; they have reduced provocation to an art form. Together, they exist to provoke a reaction from everyone, and they’re very good at it. Disgust, admiration, amusement, whatever it is, no one remains unmoved. They’re a reflective surface off of which the world bounces and is thus defined; they absorb no color. It doesn’t matter what they think about anything, really, nor what they’re really like when they’re alone. Light in a vacuum means nothing: they need an audience.
When Remus stands in as a substitute audience, it’s like a parabolic mirror, focusing the all the ambient light directly on a spot between his eyes. Light is energy is heat is combustion because, yes, he has oxygen enough and fuel. Yes, Remus can stand to squeeze in between them, encourage their outrageous stunts, allow them to travel 299,792,458 metres per second towards what is surely some great oblivion. When he comes, and all he sees is white light around the edges of his vision, and the world supernovas and then shrinks, he suddenly understands everything that Einstein must have ever thought or imagined. But then it’s over and James kicks and Sirius snores so he climbs out from between them just before dawn, back to Newtonian physics as they should be.
the complement or antagonist of black,
Half of the terror that comes from sleeping with James and Sirius comes from that blinding whiteness; Remus’ retinas feel burned, he’s getting a headache. He retreats, upon occasion, to darker places to rest his eyes. There’s something soothing, refreshing, about people who absorb all light, who suck all the goodness out of Remus until he’s nothing at all. Snape won't even say his name, won't even look at him, won't keep any lights on when he fucks him. The symmetry takes Remus' breath away, such that he has none left to make the small noises (which surely must sound like applause to James and Sirius, or at least the murmur of an energetic crowd). The silence is never broken, barely even dented by the soft grunts and heavy gasps. It's true that Snape can't make Remus scream like they can - but, then, at least Snape doesn't make him scream like they do.
In the perfect darkness, Remus' pupils must surely be huge (not that his eyes are ever open), and in the quietude each sound clings to the nape of his neck like sweat. The dungeons are cool, and he always has goosebumps from where the sweat evaporates off his back and the insides of his elbows and knees. Snape's skin never sticks to him, his body provides no warmth, his fingers and toes are always freezing. Snape handles him from as far away as possible, because Snape is sane - Snape is afraid of him. As well he should be. As everyone should be. It's such a relief, to have the impersonal ache of things as they should be.
the other extreme of the neutral gray series.
Sometimes Remus wonders why he's there at all; these brief bouts of existentialism strike at odd times. In the hall between classes, or at breakfast, or just before he drifts off to sleep, or right when he wakes up in the morning (Sirius plastered stickily against one side of him, James' elbow digging into the other side), he wonders what the hell he thinks he's doing, living this life. In any other situation, he'd be absolutely crap at this. He's no good at being nondescript, being the in-between place. Left to his own devices, he would be weirder and louder and more colourful, not gray at all. But, no, when all he does is bounce between the brightest white and the darkest black, there's absolutely nothing else he can be. This ridiculous ugly high-contrast photograph has turned them all into caricatures, and Remus has to be that weird shadowy bit off in the corner, not light enough or dark enough to strike the eye.
But, then, when for the whole year he never once wakes up in bed alone, Remus decides that maybe his self is a good enough price to pay for the light show.
"white." The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004. Answers.com 27 Sep. 2007. http://www.answers.com/topic/white
"speed of light." Wikipedia. Wikipedia, 2007. Answers.com 27 Sep. 2007. http://www.answers.com/topic/speed-of-light