Harry Potter Ficlet: Liminal
Jul. 30th, 2020 09:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair***
Title: Liminal
Title: Liminal
Author: kat_lair / Mistress Kat
kat_lair / Mistress KatFandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 554
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing.
Summary: “You can’t protect me,” Remus says. “Not by keeping me here, in a gilded cage of our own making.”
Author notes: Prompt = the first sentence. This is #21 of my 100 Fandoms Challenge. Joint AO3 Collection here.
Liminal on AO3
“It’s your gilded cage!” Sirius spits. “And you know it too! How can you even—”
“We need the money,” Remus interrupts. He sounds as unflappable as ever, but there’s tightness around his eyes that tells Sirius not to push it.
He ignores the warning as usual. “Not that badly!” That’s a lie. “I’ll get another job.” That’s not.
Remus sighs. “You will not. We will both work and we will both look after Harry. That was the deal. I am not going to be the stay-at-home dad of this family!” He pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly struggling not to raise his voice. Sirius wishes he would just shout for once. Merlin knew the man had plenty to be angry about.
“But they’re not even going to let you serve the customers!”
“I don’t want to serve the customers,” Remus counters. “I’ll be much happier in the back, cataloguing the stock.”
“That’s not the point!” Sirius is pacing back and forth, fingers itching with a need to hex each and every one of the bastards who treats Remus like something less than human. “I hate it when you let them do that you. I don’t want—”
“This isn’t about what you want, Sirius.” And now there’s a bite to Remus’ voice, one that draws Sirius up short. “This isn’t your choice. What do you think would happen if I protested? If I made a, a scene? Demanded to be treated the same as everyone else? Maybe showed them how well I could push back if I wanted to, hmm?”
Sirius blinks. Remus has prowled closer now and there’s something… wild, in his eyes, a hint of barely restrained power in the angles of his skinny frame. “I don’t…”
“Exactly,” Remus all but growls. “You don’t know. Well, let me tell you.” He steps closer still, until Sirius is backed against their rickety kitchen table, the edge of it cutting painfully to the backs of his thighs.
“I would lose this job,” Remus says. “I will lose it eventually anyway, just like all the others, but it would happen even sooner. And I would never work again. Because now I would be the werewolf with an attitude problem, the one who doesn’t know his place, the one that’s ‘out of control’ and ‘danger to the public’ and you know what they do with those?”
“No.” Sirius shakes his head.
“Me neither.” Remus cups Sirius’ face in both hands, leaning close like he’s sharing a secret. “Not in detail. But I imagine it’s terribly humane. I imagine they get put down like rabid dogs.” He pulls back and the look he gives Sirius is devastating. Not because it’s full of rage or even sadness, but because of their absence. It’s as if he’d said nothing unusual; sky is blue, Voldemort is evil, they euthanise misbehaving werewolves, what’s for dinner?
“Moony…”
“You can’t protect me,” Remus says. “Not by keeping me here, in a gilded cage of our own making.”
The truth of it washes over Sirius in waves of shame and sorrow and desperate, desperate love.
“Alright,” he concedes, shaky and ragged. “Alright.” He lets his forehead drop onto Remus’ shoulder, fingers tangling in the front of his threadbare jumper, holding on. Seems that’s the only thing he can do.
It’ll have to be enough.
“It’s your gilded cage!” Sirius spits. “And you know it too! How can you even—”
“We need the money,” Remus interrupts. He sounds as unflappable as ever, but there’s tightness around his eyes that tells Sirius not to push it.
He ignores the warning as usual. “Not that badly!” That’s a lie. “I’ll get another job.” That’s not.
Remus sighs. “You will not. We will both work and we will both look after Harry. That was the deal. I am not going to be the stay-at-home dad of this family!” He pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly struggling not to raise his voice. Sirius wishes he would just shout for once. Merlin knew the man had plenty to be angry about.
“But they’re not even going to let you serve the customers!”
“I don’t want to serve the customers,” Remus counters. “I’ll be much happier in the back, cataloguing the stock.”
“That’s not the point!” Sirius is pacing back and forth, fingers itching with a need to hex each and every one of the bastards who treats Remus like something less than human. “I hate it when you let them do that you. I don’t want—”
“This isn’t about what you want, Sirius.” And now there’s a bite to Remus’ voice, one that draws Sirius up short. “This isn’t your choice. What do you think would happen if I protested? If I made a, a scene? Demanded to be treated the same as everyone else? Maybe showed them how well I could push back if I wanted to, hmm?”
Sirius blinks. Remus has prowled closer now and there’s something… wild, in his eyes, a hint of barely restrained power in the angles of his skinny frame. “I don’t…”
“Exactly,” Remus all but growls. “You don’t know. Well, let me tell you.” He steps closer still, until Sirius is backed against their rickety kitchen table, the edge of it cutting painfully to the backs of his thighs.
“I would lose this job,” Remus says. “I will lose it eventually anyway, just like all the others, but it would happen even sooner. And I would never work again. Because now I would be the werewolf with an attitude problem, the one who doesn’t know his place, the one that’s ‘out of control’ and ‘danger to the public’ and you know what they do with those?”
“No.” Sirius shakes his head.
“Me neither.” Remus cups Sirius’ face in both hands, leaning close like he’s sharing a secret. “Not in detail. But I imagine it’s terribly humane. I imagine they get put down like rabid dogs.” He pulls back and the look he gives Sirius is devastating. Not because it’s full of rage or even sadness, but because of their absence. It’s as if he’d said nothing unusual; sky is blue, Voldemort is evil, they euthanise misbehaving werewolves, what’s for dinner?
“Moony…”
“You can’t protect me,” Remus says. “Not by keeping me here, in a gilded cage of our own making.”
The truth of it washes over Sirius in waves of shame and sorrow and desperate, desperate love.
“Alright,” he concedes, shaky and ragged. “Alright.” He lets his forehead drop onto Remus’ shoulder, fingers tangling in the front of his threadbare jumper, holding on. Seems that’s the only thing he can do.
It’ll have to be enough.
***