*
Jazz Hands
I’ve let him go, but it feels all wrong.
I try to explain that every impulse dictates I go after my friend’s son”that I try to comfort him, to protect him from the monster he seeks for revenge.
“Right then, stamp it down,” The Director tells me, and I realize it’s only the remnants of Book Me that are trying to be heard above the deafening racket of the special effects team. “We’re not worrying about any of that. The question is, can you do tortured?”
He studies me earnestly. “Because what we need here is a look of deep fatigue and anguish… as soon as Harry breaks away. Got it?”
He walks off and calls for another take.
I nod to the space where he’d stood a moment before. Of course. I can certainly do tortured. We try again and this time I try to imagine I am so paralyzed at losing Sirius that I cannot think of anyone else, not even Harry. But it doesn’t work. It feels so wrong to just stand here.
I take a few tentative steps toward The Director’s chair. “Er, what about Dora? She’s badly hurt. Don’t you think I should tend to her after Harry gets away from me?”
He approaches and braces my shoulders. “That didn’t happen,” he says slowly, as if to a small child. “She appears in a shimmer of white light and that is the last we see of her. See?” he said brightly, using jazz hands to illustrate the effect. “No worries!”
But it still feels wrong, and I cannot stop myself protesting. “But what of the children? They are all badly injured. Surely I can be of use somewhere?”
I see he is trying to be patient with me, and in return, I practice my tortured look for him.
“Remus,” he began in a tight voice. “You did read the script, didn’t you?”
Of course I read the script, but I say nothing.
“Not the book, mind you, but the script?”
“Yes, but didn’t you say they were nearly the same?” He certainly has. I’ve heard him say so many times, and yet now… is it just me, or is he squirming?
Finally, he speaks. “Semantics.” He waves his hand through the air, dismissing my objections. “Let’s just go with the script.”
I look over at Dora, who is sitting back in a chair looking bored with the whole procedure.
“Right then. Remus and Harry… once more for the shot.” He settles himself into his chair as we move back to our places. “Ready, Remus? Tortured?”
I look back at Dora. She is rolling her eyes and turning her hair colors for her own amusement. She sees me and gives me a look that says, “Just go with it.” I wish I could be more like her. She hates these changes as much as I do, but she somehow manages to accept it and move on.
I square my shoulders and move out of the shot. I will be like Dora. I can do this.
On cue, I grab Harry from behind and hold on. I let him break away and I lean into the anguish, thinking of James and Sirius and all that is lost. And I do the best damn tortured The Director has ever seen.
“Yes!” he cries in triumph. “Beautiful! We’ve got the shot!”
A while later, I sit down in the chair next to Dora. She turns her hair red for me, and I realize I am falling for her.
“Do you ever miss the Book You?” I ask her.
“Hell, yeah. I had that dramatic injury, remember? The kids were messed up… it was so much more intense.”
“And believable.”
I see on her face that she agrees. She looks me over then, her hair going blue as her expression changes. “Don’t feel too bad about it.” She leans in and lowers her voice. “Want to know a secret?”
Who doesn’t want to know a secret?
“I’m faking this whole thing. So are you. There’s no need to miss the Book You because the Book You is who you actually are.” She gestures up, into the lighting grid and the elaborate sets. “All this… this is just fiction. The way things happened the first time… that’s the real deal.”
She is right, of course, and I feel better. We are both done for the day, but we sit there quietly as Harry and Sirius practice their dueling skills for the next sequence and Mad Eye stomps the floor with that ridiculous stick of his.
Every once in a while, Dora changes her face or her hair and I laugh out loud. I think about the Book Her and the Book Me, and I really want to kiss her, but I don’t. It’s nice, though. And I think the nicest bit is how far I feel from tortured.
**
Taking Direction by WeasleyMom
Chapter Notes: This first chapter evolved from a drabble challenge in The Three Broomsticks (beta forums). The prompt? Write Remus’ thoughts/feelings (in the film) during those moments after Harry escaped his arms at the Ministry in The Order of the Phoenix. Thanks to Gina and Terri for guidance and good advice.
Chapter Endnotes: This is new territory for me. I would love to know what you thought about it. Please review!