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paulamcgTitle: I Don’t Dream
Author:paulamcg
Rating: G
Pairing: Subtle Remus/Sirius
Characters: Remus Lupin, (minor) Sirius Black
Summary: In January 1983 Remus pursues History and Dark Creature studies, and practises not dreaming.
Word count: 900
Disclaimer: Remus will never help me make any money.
Notes: This little story is the revised version of a fic which I wrote and was proud of – and even praised for – almost full fifteen years ago, and which was originally posted here, where you can also read some of the comments I got from amazing fellow writers and other readers back in the day. I’m thrilled as I feel I’ve managed to now improve the fic in some essential ways.
Read here on AO3
or right here
I Don't Dream
Leaning my head against the wall, I stare up, from where I’m sitting on my mattress, at the deadly night in ambush behind the frozen glass. I can ignore it when focused on remembering… just what Merlin College requires in the exam combining Wizarding History and Defence Against Dark Creatures.
I never shared the common view at Hogwarts about the goblin rebellions as the most boring topic. When I engaged the ghost professor in a debate, at least a fellow Marauder or two woke up to listen. And we came to realise that history could show or hide how equally inhumane some acts of humans have been, or how they can be even more cruel than crimes committed by those who are still denied equal rights. If I was the first of us to pay attention, it was not only because I was a conscientious student, just as I am still, but also because of what else I am. And thanks to those half-goblins and other creatures I used to know at home, I had brought with me some rebellious ideas to introduce to James and Peter and…
No. I force myself to look back at the book held against my bent knees. I need to remember not only all the alternative theories, but also the names of the historians who have supported them. All inane arguments and fake facts, the official truth about the murderous nature of everyone not fully human. Perfect answers in this exam will be one more merit in my qualifications and… I can still hope for a chance to work as a journalist, on free-lancer basis, perhaps.
Again no. Why do I fool myself into cherishing hope? I can’t afford such a luxury. Then again, maybe that’s all I can afford.
I can’t… Concentrate. The darkness is pouring over me as if there were not even that bare glass, and more frigid air keeps seeping through the cracks in the window frame.
But I must finish reading this book tonight, as it’s due at the library tomorrow. In the light of my wand I skim the text, trying to convince myself that I know it all well enough. Having turned another page, I fold my arms again and bury my hands in my armpits, and shake my whole body to generate some warmth.
Now my eyes are closing every now and then and staying closed longer and longer. Perhaps one of my hopes is not in vain, after all. I think I’ll be able to fall asleep, if I lie down now and try to recall what I just read.
There’s one of my small blessings right here. Going to bed is easy. No need to – no way I could want to – take off any of my clothes. Just to wrap the blanket more carefully around myself so that it covers me from socks to ears.
When I’ve laid my head down, I feel dizzy. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to focus on the historians’ names. But my mind wanders from Professor Binns’s classroom to the Great Hall.
“You must eat more on these days. Don’t laugh, Wormy! It is possible to eat even more than he normally… Prongs, you, too! You know that… ” His hand reaches out for the sausages and deposits five on my plate.
No. You know, nowadays I consider becoming a vegetarian. No, of course you don’t know… All right, I’ll have the bangers, but don’t turn that caring gaze at me. I mustn’t look.
You know, I’m learning not to dream of food. Honestly. I don’t dream of any food I wish I could afford to buy. Only of the food I’ve had before. It’s as if I still had it. But I don’t have you watching over me. No, your voice is gone now. Your fingers are gone, too – those long slender fingers. There’s only the food that’ appeared on my plate, and I’ll be eating all night.
This is how I’ll wake up and wonder why I’m still so hungry that it hurts. But I won’t dream of finding a way to make some money. I’ll try to remember to offer to clean the stairwell, so I’ll get some Knuts for bread, perhaps an apple, too. But I don’t really care. I’ll do it only so as not to faint in the exam.
I continue to enjoy the best meals I ever had. At Hogwarts and after. Remember that restaurant where I once again evaded the question? What did I want to eat? I lied, saying I wasn’t hungry. And you ordered for me this incredible pizza, with shrimps and tuna fish, and with a thick layer of cheese, and oregano. I can still smell it. But you are not there.
In this way I try to keep the hunger at bay, and I keep you away, too. When I focus on the food, I can forget you were there, can’t I? If there is hope, is it this: I’ll forget you used to take care of me?
Still, you’ve pressed your trembling lips right where the cold draft touches my temple. Where you’ve been locked away, there can be no happy memory in your head. You keep coming back to me. But you don’t know. You are the one without hope.
Author:
paulamcgRating: G
Pairing: Subtle Remus/Sirius
Characters: Remus Lupin, (minor) Sirius Black
Summary: In January 1983 Remus pursues History and Dark Creature studies, and practises not dreaming.
Word count: 900
Disclaimer: Remus will never help me make any money.
Notes: This little story is the revised version of a fic which I wrote and was proud of – and even praised for – almost full fifteen years ago, and which was originally posted here, where you can also read some of the comments I got from amazing fellow writers and other readers back in the day. I’m thrilled as I feel I’ve managed to now improve the fic in some essential ways.
Read here on AO3
or right here
I Don't Dream
Leaning my head against the wall, I stare up, from where I’m sitting on my mattress, at the deadly night in ambush behind the frozen glass. I can ignore it when focused on remembering… just what Merlin College requires in the exam combining Wizarding History and Defence Against Dark Creatures.
I never shared the common view at Hogwarts about the goblin rebellions as the most boring topic. When I engaged the ghost professor in a debate, at least a fellow Marauder or two woke up to listen. And we came to realise that history could show or hide how equally inhumane some acts of humans have been, or how they can be even more cruel than crimes committed by those who are still denied equal rights. If I was the first of us to pay attention, it was not only because I was a conscientious student, just as I am still, but also because of what else I am. And thanks to those half-goblins and other creatures I used to know at home, I had brought with me some rebellious ideas to introduce to James and Peter and…
No. I force myself to look back at the book held against my bent knees. I need to remember not only all the alternative theories, but also the names of the historians who have supported them. All inane arguments and fake facts, the official truth about the murderous nature of everyone not fully human. Perfect answers in this exam will be one more merit in my qualifications and… I can still hope for a chance to work as a journalist, on free-lancer basis, perhaps.
Again no. Why do I fool myself into cherishing hope? I can’t afford such a luxury. Then again, maybe that’s all I can afford.
I can’t… Concentrate. The darkness is pouring over me as if there were not even that bare glass, and more frigid air keeps seeping through the cracks in the window frame.
But I must finish reading this book tonight, as it’s due at the library tomorrow. In the light of my wand I skim the text, trying to convince myself that I know it all well enough. Having turned another page, I fold my arms again and bury my hands in my armpits, and shake my whole body to generate some warmth.
Now my eyes are closing every now and then and staying closed longer and longer. Perhaps one of my hopes is not in vain, after all. I think I’ll be able to fall asleep, if I lie down now and try to recall what I just read.
There’s one of my small blessings right here. Going to bed is easy. No need to – no way I could want to – take off any of my clothes. Just to wrap the blanket more carefully around myself so that it covers me from socks to ears.
When I’ve laid my head down, I feel dizzy. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to focus on the historians’ names. But my mind wanders from Professor Binns’s classroom to the Great Hall.
“You must eat more on these days. Don’t laugh, Wormy! It is possible to eat even more than he normally… Prongs, you, too! You know that… ” His hand reaches out for the sausages and deposits five on my plate.
No. You know, nowadays I consider becoming a vegetarian. No, of course you don’t know… All right, I’ll have the bangers, but don’t turn that caring gaze at me. I mustn’t look.
You know, I’m learning not to dream of food. Honestly. I don’t dream of any food I wish I could afford to buy. Only of the food I’ve had before. It’s as if I still had it. But I don’t have you watching over me. No, your voice is gone now. Your fingers are gone, too – those long slender fingers. There’s only the food that’ appeared on my plate, and I’ll be eating all night.
This is how I’ll wake up and wonder why I’m still so hungry that it hurts. But I won’t dream of finding a way to make some money. I’ll try to remember to offer to clean the stairwell, so I’ll get some Knuts for bread, perhaps an apple, too. But I don’t really care. I’ll do it only so as not to faint in the exam.
I continue to enjoy the best meals I ever had. At Hogwarts and after. Remember that restaurant where I once again evaded the question? What did I want to eat? I lied, saying I wasn’t hungry. And you ordered for me this incredible pizza, with shrimps and tuna fish, and with a thick layer of cheese, and oregano. I can still smell it. But you are not there.
In this way I try to keep the hunger at bay, and I keep you away, too. When I focus on the food, I can forget you were there, can’t I? If there is hope, is it this: I’ll forget you used to take care of me?
Still, you’ve pressed your trembling lips right where the cold draft touches my temple. Where you’ve been locked away, there can be no happy memory in your head. You keep coming back to me. But you don’t know. You are the one without hope.
no subject
Date: 2020-02-23 01:48 pm (UTC)This fic is very, very well written. You've managed to make it about Sirius's "betrayal" and his leaving all of them without focusing on the bare facts, instead having Remus reconsider stories about Goblins and the murderous nature of others.
You are the one without hope.
This is the perfect last line. Very well done.
I can also feel Remus's longing for Sirius here. Someone who he once loved seemingly turned his life upside down. But Remus can't focus on the heartbreak, which also shows how closed off he can be. However, there's an intellectualism to it.
no subject
Date: 2020-02-23 03:35 pm (UTC)First of all, it’s lovely just to get a comment on a DW fic post! And your words of praise make me feel warm and accomplished. I’ve wondered whether I’ve learnt to write better, too, when I’ve noticed that I compose fic more fluently than fifteen and ten years ago, and after revising this fic I was almost sure I’d done a good job. The point is, however, whether the text and story work for readers.
Thank you so much for concentrating and reading so wisely and sensitively. I’m thrilled, above all, because your incredible response shows that fiction truly is finalised by a reader’s interpretation.
You have excellently made this into a story about Sirius’s “betrayal” – after I started by writing a story about Remus’s situation, simply identifying with him. His longing for Sirius must have been there all the time, even though he’s tried to repress it – refused to look at Sirius’s image in his mind or to think of his name – and his current physical misery has helped him (to focus his emotions on longing for the food). And there’s been the intellectual side – his thoughts focused on goblin rebellions. Originally that probably unusual element (in Azkaban-period Remus angst) served two purposes: to show Remus doing something (studying for an exam) while hungry and cold and trying not to think about Sirius, and to bring back memories from Hogwarts and refer to the Marauders’ rebelliousness – without mentioning anyone’s murderousness. Elsewhere (in a memory scene in the post-OotP novel) I’d elaborated on the contents of Remus and Binn’s debate, and when I now added a bit about that, I wasn’t aware of how it referred to Sirius’s alleged deeds. I wonder how aware Remus is – and any interpretation of that is quite as valuable.
(I’m too much tempted to babble about my fic and how I wrote it, but I don’t mean to ever say anything about any correct interpretation.)
Finally, thank you for expressing your love for the last line! It’s been there, exactly like this, since the very first draft.