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31_days2006-06-02 10:32 pm
maajna.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-06-02 10:32 pm
[2 June] [Harry Potter] After the First Time
Title: After the First Time
Day/Theme: 2 June / in search of me
Series: Harry Potter
Character/Pairing: Remus Lupin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 290
After the First Time
The morning after the first time, when he woke up scratched and bloodied, he asked his mother what happened and she told him. Then he asked if he was normal and she, with glassy moon-like eyes and a quivering smile, nodded.
“Yes, baby.” She told him, “Perfect. Perfectly normal. This is just part of growing up.”
She stroked his hair and began to cry, but he didn’t understand. He put his little hand on hers and pleaded,
“Mamma, mamma, it’s okay. I’m normal.” Until they were both crying, the pair of them with their arms around each other, and it wasn’t until much later, when he woke with a dead rabbit in his fingers, that he understood.
Twelve years later. The morning after the first time, he wakes up soggy with bits of brush in his hair. The room smells like mud-caked boys, the curtains are a bit pulled one side, there are paw and hoof prints everywhere. Sirius is awake and starring. Remus asks him what happened, and he tells him.
Disbelieving laughter, then silence.
He asks him if he is normal.
“‘Course not, Moony.” There is his smile, his moon-gray eyes beaming, “Get dressed, you’ll be late.”
He pushes him candidly, twice, and Remus frowns.
“You smell like a ruddy dog.” He says, and suddenly the tears creep up on him through his laughter. Sirius stands awkward, pats him gruffly on the shoulder.
“Buck up, mate. You alright then?”
He nods and grins and pushes him back, wipes his nose on a muddy sleeve, says,
“You reek.”
The sun outside is painfully bright and he doesn’t need to cry anymore. There will be other nights, of course. Much better or much worse. But no matter; he’s found himself.
Day/Theme: 2 June / in search of me
Series: Harry Potter
Character/Pairing: Remus Lupin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 290
After the First Time
The morning after the first time, when he woke up scratched and bloodied, he asked his mother what happened and she told him. Then he asked if he was normal and she, with glassy moon-like eyes and a quivering smile, nodded.
“Yes, baby.” She told him, “Perfect. Perfectly normal. This is just part of growing up.”
She stroked his hair and began to cry, but he didn’t understand. He put his little hand on hers and pleaded,
“Mamma, mamma, it’s okay. I’m normal.” Until they were both crying, the pair of them with their arms around each other, and it wasn’t until much later, when he woke with a dead rabbit in his fingers, that he understood.
Twelve years later. The morning after the first time, he wakes up soggy with bits of brush in his hair. The room smells like mud-caked boys, the curtains are a bit pulled one side, there are paw and hoof prints everywhere. Sirius is awake and starring. Remus asks him what happened, and he tells him.
Disbelieving laughter, then silence.
He asks him if he is normal.
“‘Course not, Moony.” There is his smile, his moon-gray eyes beaming, “Get dressed, you’ll be late.”
He pushes him candidly, twice, and Remus frowns.
“You smell like a ruddy dog.” He says, and suddenly the tears creep up on him through his laughter. Sirius stands awkward, pats him gruffly on the shoulder.
“Buck up, mate. You alright then?”
He nods and grins and pushes him back, wipes his nose on a muddy sleeve, says,
“You reek.”
The sun outside is painfully bright and he doesn’t need to cry anymore. There will be other nights, of course. Much better or much worse. But no matter; he’s found himself.