everything looks different in the morning
Jan. 23rd, 2012 09:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
onewizardwolfpackEverything seemed familiar as Remus woke. His world was small and concentrated around the pain in his body, the stale metal taste in his mouth. His thoughts were sluggish and his senses felt incredibly dull. He was lying on his side, his shoulder wedged uncomfortably beneath his body, and as he clumsily pushed himself upright his blood started to move more freely, which made him grimace.
He'd made a mess of the floor.
With a rough sound he let his fingers hover over the deepest cut in his arm, and closed his eyes, willing the skin to knit, just enough where the bleeding would stop. Nothing happened. It had been a while since a transformation, even one as violent as this one had apparently been, had stopped him from doing nonverbal magic. If the burning pain in his legs and side were any indication, getting a hold of his wand was going to be a bitch. Gritting his teeth together, he started to his feet, tucking his arm tight against his stomach, and stumbled in the direction he'd left his clothing and wand, folded up and wedged tight between the crap old tool bench and cold masonry wall.
Only none of those things were there.
The room he was in was larger than the one he used for his transformations. There was a cluster of washers and dryers- was he in a laundry? Oh fuckssake, was this a laundry?- were set in the middle of the room. No, no windows, it couldn't have been a proper laundromat. It was some basement, someone's basement. He'd never seen it before. His brain struggled toward alertness, but sheer disbelief was making that difficult.
For the first time in a long time, Remus felt something like real, cold fear. He was injured, significantly, bleeding quite a lot. Wandless magic wasn't working and his wand was nowhere to be seen. He had no idea where he was.
Which meant he'd gotten out. How had he gotten out? How could the charms have failed? What if some of the blood on the floor- on him- wasn't his own?
“Ngh- no,” he said to himself, though it came out a rough, broken whisper. He turned, looking for an exit, and saw stairs leading up to a door. Unfamiliar stairs, and an unfamiliar door.
“Oh, please, no,” he whispered fervently, and lurched toward them, blood running to ice in his veins. He stumbled once, cracking his knee against the corner of a step, but pushed himself onward, and when he clumsily shouldered the door open, he fell onto a cold, plain floor. Not wood. Not his flat. Not even his building.
What had he done?
He'd made a mess of the floor.
With a rough sound he let his fingers hover over the deepest cut in his arm, and closed his eyes, willing the skin to knit, just enough where the bleeding would stop. Nothing happened. It had been a while since a transformation, even one as violent as this one had apparently been, had stopped him from doing nonverbal magic. If the burning pain in his legs and side were any indication, getting a hold of his wand was going to be a bitch. Gritting his teeth together, he started to his feet, tucking his arm tight against his stomach, and stumbled in the direction he'd left his clothing and wand, folded up and wedged tight between the crap old tool bench and cold masonry wall.
Only none of those things were there.
The room he was in was larger than the one he used for his transformations. There was a cluster of washers and dryers- was he in a laundry? Oh fuckssake, was this a laundry?- were set in the middle of the room. No, no windows, it couldn't have been a proper laundromat. It was some basement, someone's basement. He'd never seen it before. His brain struggled toward alertness, but sheer disbelief was making that difficult.
For the first time in a long time, Remus felt something like real, cold fear. He was injured, significantly, bleeding quite a lot. Wandless magic wasn't working and his wand was nowhere to be seen. He had no idea where he was.
Which meant he'd gotten out. How had he gotten out? How could the charms have failed? What if some of the blood on the floor- on him- wasn't his own?
“Ngh- no,” he said to himself, though it came out a rough, broken whisper. He turned, looking for an exit, and saw stairs leading up to a door. Unfamiliar stairs, and an unfamiliar door.
“Oh, please, no,” he whispered fervently, and lurched toward them, blood running to ice in his veins. He stumbled once, cracking his knee against the corner of a step, but pushed himself onward, and when he clumsily shouldered the door open, he fell onto a cold, plain floor. Not wood. Not his flat. Not even his building.
What had he done?
no subject
Date: 2012-01-26 10:48 pm (UTC)"There's people here you might recognize, too," he continued. "Not from home but from books and films." Like us, he thought.
"I don't know any myself. I never read a lot of books or watched films or telly. But they're out there so.. know that they're real. A lot of people have a lot of impossible sounding stories, but they really did live it."
no subject
Date: 2012-01-26 11:01 pm (UTC)"Harry, last night I transformed into a werewolf in the basement of a building in London. This morning I woke up here, to... this. To you. To my dear friends' son all grown up when you shouldn't be more than six, by my count. I think I'm more or less ready to take anyone else's story at face value."
no subject
Date: 2012-01-26 11:07 pm (UTC)"I know. There's just a lot of strange stuff around here," he explained. "I don't want to you to get blindsided because I assume you'll know what to do."
no subject
Date: 2012-01-26 11:09 pm (UTC)"Thank you," he said, gaze slipping down and distant.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-26 11:26 pm (UTC)It was all weird and awkward and what he was going to say next was bound to make it worse, but he had to. Maybe it was selfish, but Harry didn't care.
"I'm glad you're here," he said quietly. "I know I'm.. not possibly what you could have expected and I know all this stuff about you, stuff you haven't even done yet, and you know nothing about me. I know you're probably not happy about showing up here unexpectedly. But I am."
His own gaze drifted down now. "And I know I'm their son to you. I was a baby when you last saw me and I don't expect you to be friends with me right off the bat. But we were friends, once, and I want to be that again."
He gave him a shy, borderline mischievous grin. "That's another warning, so you're not blindsided."
no subject
Date: 2012-01-27 12:34 am (UTC)"I am grateful, Harry, both for the help you gave me earlier, and for... this. And I am glad to have met you."
no subject
Date: 2012-01-27 12:49 am (UTC)"Good. And you're welcome."
He bit his lip, considering.
"There's more about the island that you should know, but it can wait, if you want to get some more rest."
no subject
Date: 2012-01-27 01:00 am (UTC)"I... do, actually. This has all been a bit exhausting, to tell you the truth. Please tell Sirius not to bother about the tea- Thank him. But. I'm afraid I do need to lie down."
no subject
Date: 2012-01-27 01:16 am (UTC)"I'll tell him," he assured Remus. "..Sleep well. I-- We'll probably check in on you later."
no subject
Date: 2012-01-27 01:18 am (UTC)