au_muses: Sleep. [december]
ooc: Cut for length and disturbing content. If muses from this 'verse would like to tag, feel free to do so. Fic was inspired loosely by a fic written by pinkhairedauror.
The past few nights Remus had been having trouble sleeping. If one were to consider the occasional insomnia he would sometimes be plagued by this wouldn't be a big deal, but the problem wasn't falling asleep. It was staying asleep the part that would leave him bleary eyed in the mornings until he was able to drink enough coffee to start looking as normal as possible again.
He would refuse to say why he couldn't stay asleep, however. If someone were to ask he would answer he just wasn't able to fall back asleep after a few hours, or would wave it off as 'worrying' over a lesson that he had to plan carefully for his older students, but the truth was something for him to carry. It was his to try and bury away.
Except, he couldn't. No matter how much he could try, that same 'problem' would resurface at one point throughout the night to make its presence known.
The cold wind brushing against his face makes him run faster and faster. His mind tells him to stop, to turn around and go back, but his body ignores the order completely and instead seems to run faster still.
'Stop. Stop, please stop,' he thinks to himself, but there's no change. He's still running.
Merlin, he's still running...
He couldn't remember the night when the nightmare started, but it wouldn't change much from one night to the other. Sometimes he would already be running. Other times he would be standing still before starting to sprint into the night.
What never changed was that, no matter how hard he would try to stop, he was never able to. His mind would think one thing and his body would continue on its own. It was that helplessness that would make him start muttering something under his breath as he slept, but he would continue sleeping.
That was barely the beginning of his nightmare, after all.
"Remus, stop. STOP. Look at me! I--"
The voice makes him flinch mentally, makes him try even harder to get himself to stop just how he has been asked, but he doesn't. He can't. He just keeps running even if he knows that voice. Even if he has sworn time and time again that he would never harm them.
An attempt is made to say something - he has to explain that he can't control this and for Merlin's sake to get out of the way - but his voice is gone. All that comes out is a snarl that says the exact opposite of how he's thinking and feeling, and he wonders just why he isn't sick to his stomach when he feels so nauseated by that sound.
It slips his mind, though, that it's not him the one that's in control; it's the wolf the one that has the upper hand. It's the wolf that's salivating at the thought of prey. It's the wolf that's tired of being pushed back and stored away.
A human is no match to a beast, after all. Tonight that's the lesson he's planning to teach.
Usually he would wake up then, heart beating out of control and agitated enough to believe that he really had been running for as long as he had been in his dream. He would get out of bed, splash cold water against his face, and sit on his armchair by the fireplace to force himself to calm down.
Now he couldn't, though. No matter how much he kept muttering and tossing and turning, he just kept sleeping.
As much as he tries to ignore what happens next, he can't. It's his eyes the ones that see everything, even if it's not him the one that does anything, and he can't shut away how it feels like to suddenly strike. First by pouncing, then by biting and tearing apart with such willingness and pleasure that for what feels like the hundredth time he feels sick again.
It continues, though. His vision seems to turn red, but it's so narrowed and fixed onto his prey that he doesn't miss a single detail.
'I'm sorry,' he wants to say, 'I'm so sorry, I can't--'
"I think that's good enough, Moony."
It's Peter. All he has to do is hear that voice and know it's him; he doesn't even have to look up right away. When he finally does he notices he's smiling so proudly, and a cloaked figure is standing just feet away from them.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Peter asks, that smile still on his face. "See all you've been missing? I told you; joining the Dark Lord has its benefits, you were just too stubborn to see it. You're a Dark creature, Remus. You're one of us."
"NO. NO!!"
His voice echoed in the quiet room, and as his vision started to clear and adjust to the darkness he shakily got out of bed to rush to the bathroom.
Remus Lupin was no stranger to nightmares. Although they weren't always as strong, he was used to having them during the week leading up to the full moon as the beast started to make its presence known. He couldn't remember one this strong, though; at least none that had been recent, and none that had made him actually yell out like that as he woke up. But he could still feel everything. He could hear every sound, and the taste in his mouth wouldn't go away, and he could still see everything in just a blink.
'It was just a nightmare,' he tried to tell himself as he pushed his hair back once his face had been splashed with cold water and his mouth was rinsed. The details wouldn't go away with no matter how many times he kept saying and thinking it. It couldn't take away how he kept shaking, or how cold he felt, or just how absolutely disgusted in himself he felt.
He killed them. Harry and Sirius. Even if it had just been a nightmare he had killed them, and--
A strangled scream of frustration, mingled with a sort of growl, emerged from his throat then despite his best attempts to calm down, and he grasped a fistful of hair as he paced. It hadn't been real. No matter how it still felt it hadn't been real, because if it would have been...
His breathing quickened then and he had to lean against the wall of the bathroom as he suddenly felt too dizzy to keep standing. With the tournament slowly creeping up he had to admit that his fears for Harry and Sirius were starting to make their way to the surface again, and the nightmare was the proof of it.
Except it wasn't Voldemort the one that had killed them. It hadn't even been one of his Death Eaters. It had been himself.
Passing a hand wearily across his face, he tried to get himself to focus again. He would never join Voldemort, and he would never hurt Sirius or Harry.
"You're a Dark creature, Remus. You're one of us."
Fighting back that sick feeling again, Remus just leaned his head back against the wall and stared ahead at nothing. He was exhausted, but getting up and going back to bed so he could sleep was not an option. If anything, right now he doubted he would be able to willingly sleep in a while. A potion could be his solution, but he didn't want to see that questioning glance in Poppy's eyes, and he refused to go to Severus and ask for a favor like that.
He would have another sleepless night. He preferred that over falling asleep and dreaming again, so he just let his thoughts surround him as his mind went back to the nightmare.
Peter had been right about one thing: He was a Dark creature. But, despite his fears of not being able to keep his family safe, he knew he was a Dark creature that would never be one of them. He would rather die before that could happen.
word count: 1,348
The past few nights Remus had been having trouble sleeping. If one were to consider the occasional insomnia he would sometimes be plagued by this wouldn't be a big deal, but the problem wasn't falling asleep. It was staying asleep the part that would leave him bleary eyed in the mornings until he was able to drink enough coffee to start looking as normal as possible again.
He would refuse to say why he couldn't stay asleep, however. If someone were to ask he would answer he just wasn't able to fall back asleep after a few hours, or would wave it off as 'worrying' over a lesson that he had to plan carefully for his older students, but the truth was something for him to carry. It was his to try and bury away.
Except, he couldn't. No matter how much he could try, that same 'problem' would resurface at one point throughout the night to make its presence known.
The cold wind brushing against his face makes him run faster and faster. His mind tells him to stop, to turn around and go back, but his body ignores the order completely and instead seems to run faster still.
'Stop. Stop, please stop,' he thinks to himself, but there's no change. He's still running.
Merlin, he's still running...
He couldn't remember the night when the nightmare started, but it wouldn't change much from one night to the other. Sometimes he would already be running. Other times he would be standing still before starting to sprint into the night.
What never changed was that, no matter how hard he would try to stop, he was never able to. His mind would think one thing and his body would continue on its own. It was that helplessness that would make him start muttering something under his breath as he slept, but he would continue sleeping.
That was barely the beginning of his nightmare, after all.
"Remus, stop. STOP. Look at me! I--"
The voice makes him flinch mentally, makes him try even harder to get himself to stop just how he has been asked, but he doesn't. He can't. He just keeps running even if he knows that voice. Even if he has sworn time and time again that he would never harm them.
An attempt is made to say something - he has to explain that he can't control this and for Merlin's sake to get out of the way - but his voice is gone. All that comes out is a snarl that says the exact opposite of how he's thinking and feeling, and he wonders just why he isn't sick to his stomach when he feels so nauseated by that sound.
It slips his mind, though, that it's not him the one that's in control; it's the wolf the one that has the upper hand. It's the wolf that's salivating at the thought of prey. It's the wolf that's tired of being pushed back and stored away.
A human is no match to a beast, after all. Tonight that's the lesson he's planning to teach.
Usually he would wake up then, heart beating out of control and agitated enough to believe that he really had been running for as long as he had been in his dream. He would get out of bed, splash cold water against his face, and sit on his armchair by the fireplace to force himself to calm down.
Now he couldn't, though. No matter how much he kept muttering and tossing and turning, he just kept sleeping.
As much as he tries to ignore what happens next, he can't. It's his eyes the ones that see everything, even if it's not him the one that does anything, and he can't shut away how it feels like to suddenly strike. First by pouncing, then by biting and tearing apart with such willingness and pleasure that for what feels like the hundredth time he feels sick again.
It continues, though. His vision seems to turn red, but it's so narrowed and fixed onto his prey that he doesn't miss a single detail.
'I'm sorry,' he wants to say, 'I'm so sorry, I can't--'
"I think that's good enough, Moony."
It's Peter. All he has to do is hear that voice and know it's him; he doesn't even have to look up right away. When he finally does he notices he's smiling so proudly, and a cloaked figure is standing just feet away from them.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Peter asks, that smile still on his face. "See all you've been missing? I told you; joining the Dark Lord has its benefits, you were just too stubborn to see it. You're a Dark creature, Remus. You're one of us."
"NO. NO!!"
His voice echoed in the quiet room, and as his vision started to clear and adjust to the darkness he shakily got out of bed to rush to the bathroom.
Remus Lupin was no stranger to nightmares. Although they weren't always as strong, he was used to having them during the week leading up to the full moon as the beast started to make its presence known. He couldn't remember one this strong, though; at least none that had been recent, and none that had made him actually yell out like that as he woke up. But he could still feel everything. He could hear every sound, and the taste in his mouth wouldn't go away, and he could still see everything in just a blink.
'It was just a nightmare,' he tried to tell himself as he pushed his hair back once his face had been splashed with cold water and his mouth was rinsed. The details wouldn't go away with no matter how many times he kept saying and thinking it. It couldn't take away how he kept shaking, or how cold he felt, or just how absolutely disgusted in himself he felt.
He killed them. Harry and Sirius. Even if it had just been a nightmare he had killed them, and--
A strangled scream of frustration, mingled with a sort of growl, emerged from his throat then despite his best attempts to calm down, and he grasped a fistful of hair as he paced. It hadn't been real. No matter how it still felt it hadn't been real, because if it would have been...
His breathing quickened then and he had to lean against the wall of the bathroom as he suddenly felt too dizzy to keep standing. With the tournament slowly creeping up he had to admit that his fears for Harry and Sirius were starting to make their way to the surface again, and the nightmare was the proof of it.
Except it wasn't Voldemort the one that had killed them. It hadn't even been one of his Death Eaters. It had been himself.
Passing a hand wearily across his face, he tried to get himself to focus again. He would never join Voldemort, and he would never hurt Sirius or Harry.
"You're a Dark creature, Remus. You're one of us."
Fighting back that sick feeling again, Remus just leaned his head back against the wall and stared ahead at nothing. He was exhausted, but getting up and going back to bed so he could sleep was not an option. If anything, right now he doubted he would be able to willingly sleep in a while. A potion could be his solution, but he didn't want to see that questioning glance in Poppy's eyes, and he refused to go to Severus and ask for a favor like that.
He would have another sleepless night. He preferred that over falling asleep and dreaming again, so he just let his thoughts surround him as his mind went back to the nightmare.
Peter had been right about one thing: He was a Dark creature. But, despite his fears of not being able to keep his family safe, he knew he was a Dark creature that would never be one of them. He would rather die before that could happen.
word count: 1,348