fic: look at the sky turn her hair fire red
look at the sky turn her hair fire red | txilar | 683 | G | Remus/Lily
Challenge: 7spells: effect of impact on stationary objects
Look at the sky turn her hair fire red,
Somebody’s house is burning
Down, down
-Jimi Hendrix
The first time Remus kissed Lily he wondered if it was the taste of James on her breath. He knew she didn’t like chocolate frogs.
The second time he kissed her, Peter was watching. It wasn’t much of a prank, as pranks go.
The third time, the last time, he and Sirius weren’t speaking. Though he had a feeling they would be shortly.
When Remus was eight, he’d cut his forehead running in the woods where’d they lived the year before they moved back to the city. His mother called his name and he turned back to yell-Coming, mummy-before smacking into a tree.
Face turned, the tree had only caught one side of his face, and the wound was long healed, and certainly nothing like what he could do to himself at the time, with fangs and claws, but it was the sensation of slamming into something that wasn’t going to move for him.
Hitting into a hard, cruel reality that hurt, that would only ever hurt. He vaguely remembered falling to the ground and lying under the tree in shock, staring up at the dull sky, sparkling with sunlight angling off clouds and glowing in a way that could only have been shock.
He breathed in sharp air that seemed to echo the smack against his face. He felt cold shivers on his cheek and reached a hand up and held it over his face. One finger had a smear of fresh blood on it.
He stared at it thoughtfully. He’d not drawn this blood, the tree had. It was different, almost like it wasn’t even his in a way.
“Remus!”
He licked his finger and then his mother was yanking him up, cold air and bright light making his stomach roll and shadows grow.
He knows he threw up, but the rest of the memory is lost to time.
What he’ll never forget is the sensation of something else hurting him and how it felt to slam into that understanding that other things could, and most likely would, hurt him, and often.
Remus looks up at and stares at Sirius, his fist drawing back like he’s going to hit Remus again.
He can see the change in Sirius’s expression, the confusion, the disbelief. Remus smiled. He rubs his hand over his nose and sees, like he expected, a smear of blood.
He smiles again, laughter almost escaping him when he thinks, this? This is nothing. I did worse last month and my foot still hasn’t heeled.
He licks his finger just as Sirius speaks.
“Lily? Remus, you-what are you doing?” His voice drops to a scandalised whisper, a hiss of air, and Remus is reminded of the cold and staring at the sky. Sirius’s eyes are sky-grey and his voice is cold air.
Lily’s like the sun. She’s too bright for him to look at, but he can’t help it. She shocks his eyes, is blood-warm, and-funny, she taste like chocolate.
He’s afraid he’s going to throw up again, when James comes in.
It’s too much. He laughs and passes out.
There are fingertips on his forehead, tickling on what will one day be weary lines of fatigue and worry.
Remus thinks he should open his eyes, but he isn’t sure he wants the tickling to stop; it is accompanied by sighs and an occasional ‘oh’ that he likes hearing. But, nothing lasts forever; he learned this long before he learned about the tree, so he opens his eyes and sees nothing but red. He must have made a noise or moved, because the red moves, shifts, shimmers like fire, and slowly draws away.
“Remus…” says Lily, her voice smoke-soft and ash-warm.
He smiles dizzily up at her and her voice turns to almost laughter and warmth lights her cheeks as her smile blooms, sweet and indulging. She likes him, he knows that. He also knows that she doesn’t like him.
But that’s ok. If he can watch her hair as she turns, look into her eyes, and warm his hands by this smile, it will be enough.
///end
Challenge: 7spells: effect of impact on stationary objects
Look at the sky turn her hair fire red,
Somebody’s house is burning
Down, down
-Jimi Hendrix
The first time Remus kissed Lily he wondered if it was the taste of James on her breath. He knew she didn’t like chocolate frogs.
The second time he kissed her, Peter was watching. It wasn’t much of a prank, as pranks go.
The third time, the last time, he and Sirius weren’t speaking. Though he had a feeling they would be shortly.
When Remus was eight, he’d cut his forehead running in the woods where’d they lived the year before they moved back to the city. His mother called his name and he turned back to yell-Coming, mummy-before smacking into a tree.
Face turned, the tree had only caught one side of his face, and the wound was long healed, and certainly nothing like what he could do to himself at the time, with fangs and claws, but it was the sensation of slamming into something that wasn’t going to move for him.
Hitting into a hard, cruel reality that hurt, that would only ever hurt. He vaguely remembered falling to the ground and lying under the tree in shock, staring up at the dull sky, sparkling with sunlight angling off clouds and glowing in a way that could only have been shock.
He breathed in sharp air that seemed to echo the smack against his face. He felt cold shivers on his cheek and reached a hand up and held it over his face. One finger had a smear of fresh blood on it.
He stared at it thoughtfully. He’d not drawn this blood, the tree had. It was different, almost like it wasn’t even his in a way.
“Remus!”
He licked his finger and then his mother was yanking him up, cold air and bright light making his stomach roll and shadows grow.
He knows he threw up, but the rest of the memory is lost to time.
What he’ll never forget is the sensation of something else hurting him and how it felt to slam into that understanding that other things could, and most likely would, hurt him, and often.
Remus looks up at and stares at Sirius, his fist drawing back like he’s going to hit Remus again.
He can see the change in Sirius’s expression, the confusion, the disbelief. Remus smiled. He rubs his hand over his nose and sees, like he expected, a smear of blood.
He smiles again, laughter almost escaping him when he thinks, this? This is nothing. I did worse last month and my foot still hasn’t heeled.
He licks his finger just as Sirius speaks.
“Lily? Remus, you-what are you doing?” His voice drops to a scandalised whisper, a hiss of air, and Remus is reminded of the cold and staring at the sky. Sirius’s eyes are sky-grey and his voice is cold air.
Lily’s like the sun. She’s too bright for him to look at, but he can’t help it. She shocks his eyes, is blood-warm, and-funny, she taste like chocolate.
He’s afraid he’s going to throw up again, when James comes in.
It’s too much. He laughs and passes out.
There are fingertips on his forehead, tickling on what will one day be weary lines of fatigue and worry.
Remus thinks he should open his eyes, but he isn’t sure he wants the tickling to stop; it is accompanied by sighs and an occasional ‘oh’ that he likes hearing. But, nothing lasts forever; he learned this long before he learned about the tree, so he opens his eyes and sees nothing but red. He must have made a noise or moved, because the red moves, shifts, shimmers like fire, and slowly draws away.
“Remus…” says Lily, her voice smoke-soft and ash-warm.
He smiles dizzily up at her and her voice turns to almost laughter and warmth lights her cheeks as her smile blooms, sweet and indulging. She likes him, he knows that. He also knows that she doesn’t like him.
But that’s ok. If he can watch her hair as she turns, look into her eyes, and warm his hands by this smile, it will be enough.
///end