Remus was running and the ground seemed to be slipping from beneath him. The powdery, white snow crunched and crumbled under his feet. He could hear James’ voice calling to him like a voice from a dream, and yet there seemed to be an endless amount of obstacles in his path. Great ominous gravestones seemed to appear wherever he chose to run, and yet when he stopped, or slowed to pass them, James’ voice grew more desperate with each cry. Remus’ heart was pounding, pumping blood to his limbs so he could run faster in order to reach James sooner. The ground was frozen beneath the snow and as he moved to speed up, his feet slipped and gravity brought him crashing to the ground. The snow was everywhere; in his shoes, in his trousers, in his lungs, and as he shook his head to rid his hair of it, snowdrifts seemed to appear in front of his eyes.
“Remus, help me!” James cried again, and Remus could tell that he was closer; closer to where he knew he would find James huddled on the ground. But his heart seemed to have frozen with the snow he had inhaled and all around him the air was swirling with dazzling white as he struggled to his feet and continued to run.
Round one more corner he went and he could see - he could just about make out - the shape of James crouching in the snow between the two grey tombstones dripping with ice. Remus tried to approach and yet his feet would not move; they remained stuck firmly in the snowdrift in which he was standing. James turned to face him; and his nose was pouring with blood, and it wouldn’t stop; the blood would not stop and it was falling, just as the snow was falling, splattering the ground with crimson droplets. If Remus could move he would be able to help him, butt his limbs were disobedient and it was all he could do to cry out James’ name.
The name was lost on the wind, and it was instead James’ voice that could once again be heard crying through the snow: “Help me, Remus, help me!”
“James! James, I’m trying…” Remus cried as he saw out of the corner of his eye a figure that had never been present before. A tall, stooping form shrouded in a black cloak seemed to have suddenly appeared from behind one of the sinister-looking angels that stared out into the snow with dead eyes. It was moving towards James.
The blood had still not stopped and James was now crying, his voice devastating as he shrieked to Remus, “Oh my god, Remus, he’s going to kill me! Help me, Remus, help me!”
Remus thrashed against the snow but still he was rooted to the spot, unable to move to help a friend that so desperately needed him. The figure was reaching inside its cloak; a thin, skeletal hand withdrew a wand and pointed it at James. James’ scream made Remus desperate, and he made one final attempt to fling himself forward; to free himself from whatever spell it was that was making it impossible for him to move. It was no use and Remus fell to the snow. As he looked up and yelled to James, he heard the figure whisper the words Avada Kedavra; then all around was to be engulfed by a blinding, white light.
Remus awoke and now the bright, morning light seemed to be blazing down and burning him. It had been a dream, a terrible dream, and as he blinked slowly, shuffling up the bed to shade his eyes, Remus sighed at the thought that if he were to open his eyes fully and crane his neck to look to his left, he would see James, sound asleep, in bed. Once again, Remus closed his eyes and allowed his head to relax back into his pillows, relieved that his nightmare could not touch him now. This dream had haunted him since the day at Godric’s Hollow, though never before had the shadowy intruder made an appearance. This was something of a new addition; in the dreams of the past there had been no killing curse. Remus shivered as he once again saw James’ bloodied face before him and, after the shudder had past, he reached down and blindly attempted to pull the blankets up under his chin.
The blankets did not move as something that was lying on Remus’ bed seemed to be pinning them in place. Remus stopped fidgeting long enough to hold his breath, hearing for the first time the soft breaths that were coming from beside him. For the first time, perhaps in the whole night, Remus realised that he was not alone “ but, frightened that perhaps this feeling was still some trace of his dream, he kept his eyes tightly shut.
Whoever was beside him seemed to be stirring, moving gently as though they were awake but frightened of waking the other sleeper. On the insides of his eyelids Remus could see nothing but orange speckled with grey, yet he could tell that whoever it was that had been asleep was now watching him, their eyes carefully studying his face for signs of sleep.
Remus simply had to breathe and so very cautiously he exhaled, steadily so as not to draw attention to the fact that he was awake. His lips were dry and as Remus moved to wet them he felt the breath returned, by whoever it was that was watching, on his now moist mouth.
There was more cautious shifting and Remus realised for the first time that he had not undressed before going to bed. He was still in uniform, although now his shirt was un-tucked and his trousers had slipped down lower over his waist than he would have liked. But the person lying beside him had had time to remove their clothes and Remus could feel the warmth of their flesh as they moved beneath the blankets.
For the longest of moments there was no movement at all; everything was hushed and silent once more and Remus felt sure that, if he tried hard enough, he could forget that he was not sleeping alone. Yet as the blankets had been twisted, Remus’ shirt had un-tucked itself further and he flinched as he suddenly felt the smallest of movements brush against the exposed skin. The movement stopped and Remus thought maybe he had imagined it; his heart was pounding in his ears. A second passed and the movement returned; tentative fingers were tracing patterns on his side.
Remus breathed a little harder than before and yet the fingers did not stop. First one very slowly stroked the sensitive flesh, and then the others joined in the tender exploration. It had to be some dream - butt Remus knew he was awake. The light in the room had been too bright and too real for this to be an extension of his nightmare. And this feeling couldn’t be part of a nightmare; this feeling was euphoria; each path that the fingers found left lines of fire. Remus shivered from the heat and fought the urge he suddenly felt to lick his lips again; and all at once he could feel the warm, ragged breaths of the person beside him creep across his neck.
Even though he was fully clothed, Remus had never felt so naked; his skin was covered in goose bumps and every hair seemed to be standing on end. Again came the warmth; first in and then out; inhale, exhale, unsteady and unsure. The palm of the hand had made contact and now Remus could feel it pressed flat against his side. The flesh relented against the touch and the breath came again, much closer and moister than before. Remus could feel the pressure of the body against him; the naked contours of the chest and the bare silhouettes of the stomach, and he could feel for the first time the hair that was tickling his shoulder through his shirt.
It was then he could smell something he had smelt before; his bed no longer simply smelt of his body, his skin, his breath. With this was an overpowering smell of mud and fresh air; of damp earth and autumn and something which, try as he might, Remus could just not place. There was soap and there was sunlight; scrubbed skin and stale breath. These were scents that were familiar and known; these were not figments of his mind. He knew the scent just as he knew the body; just as he knew the rough hand that was caressing his side.
Suddenly, movement from the opposite side of the room caused the hand to be withdrawn. The body moved and shifted away; Remus could no longer feel the warmth against his skin. The mattress beside him shifted as the figure turned from lying facing Remus to lying just as he was; flat on his back, head titled towards the canopy above. The movement across the room stopped and yet the body was frozen; the hand did not return. And only when Remus was absolutely sure that the touch was not returning did he dare to open his eyes and look beside him to see Sirius, whose own eyes were now closed.
When Remus next opened his eyes he knew that Sirius was awake. He could feel that the covers had been flung back and now they almost covered him completely. There was no warm body by his side and Remus turned his head to see Sirius sitting on the edge of the bed in the process of doing up his shirt, his back to Remus. It was still strangely quiet in the dormitory and Remus wondered whether or not anyone else was there at all. Peeping round the side of Sirius, Remus could see that Peter’s bed was empty and had long ago been made and, carefully moving as to not draw Sirius’ attention to him, Remus shifted in an attempt to see over to James’ bed.
It did not work; he had not been careful enough, and Sirius had felt him move and had turned to look at him. Remus froze; a voice screamed in his ears to avoid those eyes, to fight the blush that was already burning in his cheeks. Sirius had not known that Remus was awake; maybe Remus had dreamt it all? It had seemed so bizarre, so unreal in the early morning brightness; the sound, the touch, the scent had merged and Remus now was unsure whether it had really happened at all. But if it hadn’t happened, why was he staring, willing Sirius to say something, yet fearing whatever it was that would be said. Sirius said nothing as he finished buttoning his shirt, raising an eyebrow, confused by the look of embarrassment on Remus’ face.
“I…I…” Remus managed to stammer through dry lips, but Sirius shook his head and raised a finger to his lips to silence his friend. Remus stopped talking and watched with fascination as a warm smile spread across Sirius’ face, dissolving the unreadable darkness of his features as he pointed across the room. Remus sat up, pushing the pillows back, and looked to where Sirius was pointing. It was then that he understood the need to be quiet. It seemed that James too had not slept alone. He was lying under the blankets; his glasses had been removed but his clothes, like Remus’, had not and, lying next to him, neatly tucked against him, was Lily, also fully clothed.
Remus then realised what must have happened; they had all continued to speak for hours of what was to be done about Snape and Regulus and Voldemort. It had grown dark and the fires had been lit and still they had continued. Sirius had confided in Lily about what had happened at Grimmauld Place and what it had meant for him, and Lily, for perhaps the first time since Remus had known her, had looked upon Sirius as if she had only begun to understand him. They had talked well into the night, with James and Lily on one bed and Sirius and Remus on another, and Remus could not recall the point when the conversation had come to an end and they had all gone to bed. They must have just drifted off to sleep one by one, not realising that the conversation was ending, unsure of who was asleep or awake. That would explain why Lily was now lying with James, her back against his chest, his arm around her waist, both unaware of how intimate they appeared.
“I don’t think Prongs would ever forgive us if we woke her,” Sirius whispered, breaking the silence for the first time as he stood to pull his trousers back on. Remus turned, suddenly remembering the dreamy caress of Sirius’ hand against his waist more vividly. Once Sirius had dressed Remus expected him to return to his own bed, but he did not; and instead, he sat back down beside Remus. Remus wriggled uncomfortably up the bed, at a loss for words.
“You don’t move much…” Sirius whispered as he pulled on his socks. Remus, confused by the comment, finally found his voice to ask, “What?”
Sirius laughed silently before flopping back against the headboard with the words, “In your sleep. You’re a very peaceful sleeper.” Remus shrugged and nervously ran his fingers through his hair, feeling for the first time just how messy it was.
“It was odd…” Sirius began, his voice quiet and wistful; his eyes seemed fixed on the sleeping figures of Lily and James. Remus flinched inwardly as Sirius spoke, and for the first time in their friendship he actually felt uncomfortable sitting so closely beside him. “It was odd sleeping with someone else…”
“Sorry,” Remus interrupted, automatically apologising, although he was unsure what for. Sirius, too, did not understand this apology and he shrugged, his eyes fixing on Remus’ face as he said, “No…it was nice. Sort of comforting…” Now it was Sirius’ turn to blush, to turn his eyes from Remus’ and suddenly find himself at a loss for words. But Remus understood what Sirius had said, for he had felt it too; the strange, new intimacy of sleeping beside someone; of sharing in their warmth. It had been comforting to feel the pressure of another body beside him, yet Remus’ stomach flipped as he once again recalled Sirius’ hand on his waist. Had Sirius meant the touch to feel so guilty, hidden beneath the blankets, a hand extended in sleep? Or had he meant it simply as the reassuring gesture of a friend; the sort of gesture that seemed to often pass between them when no-one else could see?
Sirius suddenly moved and stood up and Remus felt the absence of his friend’s body beside him as he moved back to his own bed.
“Thanks for letting me sleep, Moony…” Sirius paused and turned back around to face Remus, who was still sitting up fully clothed in bed. Remus shrugged and his voice cleared of all concern as he replied, “Don’t worry about it, Padfoot…it’s what friends do.”
Sirius smiled in response, but this smile wavered as he turned back to crossing the room to his bed. It had been a long night; a night full of strange talks and disturbed dreams, followed by a morning of new intimacy. If it had happened, and Remus was now in more doubt than ever of that being the case, then Sirius seemed to be ignoring it. Whatever the movement had meant, Sirius would not be drawing attention to it, and as Remus watched him pick up a comb from the bedside table and struggle to pass it through his knotted hair, he actually found himself wishing that one of them would say something about it.
There was a movement from James’ bed, and Remus watched as Lily wriggled a little against James and then, as if she had suddenly realised where she was sleeping, her eyes fluttered open and she sat up. Her hair fell in great ripples down her back, messy from the hours of sleep; the sunlight from the windows behind her filtered through it, making it appear almost transparent. She was blinking, rubbing her eyes frantically as if to rid herself of the scene before them. Remus said nothing when she looked at him and she turned to Sirius, who gave a teasing wink. Lily turned and looked down at James, who was still asleep beside her; even though she had sat up, his arm was still around her waist, resting in her lap.
Lily groaned and buried her face in her hands and it was this that finally woke James up. He opened his eyes and looked at Lily as if he didn’t know her, then, after he reached for his glasses and put them on, he seemed to suddenly remember who it was that was sleeping next to him, and he smiled as he sat up beside her. Lily removed his hand from her lap and, after a moment of silence, she said, “I should go; the girls will be wondering where I’ve got to.”
She didn’t even look at James as she stood up, her hands nervously smoothing down the front of her grey skirt, which had creased in her sleep.
“We should meet tomorrow,” Remus said and Lily nodded in agreement. She smiled at Remus, but it seemed as though she could not bring herself to look at James as she said her goodbyes and swiftly left the room. James watched her go, his eyes following her right up until she had closed the door, then, once she had left, James lay back on the bed and exhaled deeply.
“Well?” Sirius asked, and James shifted to see that Sirius was smiling. James sighed and said nothing as he lay smiling up at the ceiling. Sirius laughed as he stood up, tossing his head in James’ direction and rolling his eyes before he left the room through the bathroom door. For a long time Remus’ eyes remained fixed on the bathroom door; from inside he heard the familiar sound of the running water hitting the floor of the shower. Very slowly Remus shifted across the bed, his body taking the space that Sirius had slept in; traces of his warmth still lingered in the mattress. It had meant nothing, he thought to himself, lying back on the bed. Lily, too, had fallen asleep, next to James. And yet…something had happened that Remus could not explain; he hardly knew whether he had dreamt it or whether it was real. Maybe Sirius had not realised what he was doing, or how it had felt to Remus in the blurry, morning sunshine. Maybe he had simply meant it as a familiar gesture, a touch between friends rather than something much more intimate. Remus shook his head to rid his mind of these thoughts yet as he lay, blinking silently at the canopy above, he had never felt so vulnerable, or so horribly aware of how inappropriate what had happened that morning felt.
Without you, I'm nothing by Clare Mansfield
Chapter Notes: Remus' nightmare returns but when he awakes he finds he isn't alone...and neither is James.