Ampliatio (a remix of Apposition) Remix Author: Lah
Original Story: Apposition by Fleshdress
Summary: Ampliatio – a rhetorical device; using the name of something or someone before it has obtained that name or after the reason for that name has ceased.
Rating: G
Fandom: Harry Potter
The gloves leaked, and there was nothing to be done about it. Made of a grayish sort of wool, they'd spent too many days slipped into pockets, left in classrooms for hours before being sheepishly retrieved balled up, and thrown across rooms to be effective anymore. Wool, Remus thought as his hands froze, needed to be coddled. James Potter had never coddled anything in his life.
Stepping into Honeydukes, Remus bit the tips of each glove, peeling them off his reddened hands. It was his own fault for losing the ones his mother had sent, he told his numb fingers. (They hummed mutinously back at him.)
The nice thing, Remus reflected, about coming to Hogsmeade late was that the crowds tended to die down at about this time. Remus could lean against one of the few spaces of wall not laden with shelves, waiting for his hands to warm, and only see a few Hogwarts scarves through his lidded eyes. Third years, mostly, who hadn't learned to pace themselves; Remus saw a Gryffindor – Shacklebolt? – wave, and weakly returned the gesture.
Enough of that, Remus thought, and pushed up from his spot on the wall.
"One chocolate frog," he murmured to the old woman at the counter.
When Sirius – when Remus had first been given one at school, he'd thought to keep it as a pet. He'd worried eating it would be like devouring a living creature. (Would it kick on the way down his throat?) Remus had found the thing a shoebox for a bed, and a bit of milk to swim in before Sirius had come and smashed it with the blunt side of his fist.
"The charm wears off," Sirius had said, licking chocolate off his skin.
Remus took the path back as the last rays of sunlight slanted orange on the melting snow. Night was coming, giving the snow a chance to retaliate, to turn the top layer of water into ice and – he glanced up at a cloud – perhaps to fall again. Fair's fair, Remus told himself, but then thought better of it.
"Get the fuck out of my way!" Sirius snarled.
Remus froze, looking in up in alarm. He hadn't known he was in … but no, the shouting came from ahead of him.
Sirius stood in the center of the path, hips cocked contrapposto, challenging the – Remus sighed; saw the crowd of Slytherins in front of him.
One of them made a comment, too softly to be heard; Remus leaned in. Undoubtedly something snide, and not very clever, as he didn't see Snape in the ranks. (Thank Merlin.) The others really didn't have the creativity to bait Sirius; they'd rely on crude taunts and, when that failed, their fists. At the moment, they blocked Sirius' way, shoulder to shoulder like guards, like – and Remus thought of the Prophet and thought he'd be sick – like soldiers.
As if he were watching a movie, Remus saw Sirius raise his wand arm, his watch glittering in the dusk light. And as if he were watching a movie and he couldn't help himself, even though he knew he was only spilling the popcorn and it wouldn't do any good, Remus shouted, and reached out a bare hand, pressing his numb fingers against Sirius' shoulder.
"Don't!" he hissed, or maybe he only thought it. He'd not spoken to Sirius in so long that it was hard to remember to start again.
Remus saw Sirius' neck muscles tighten, saw his hand hesitate on his wand, saw the other boys wheel around them like black birds circling a bit of bread Peter dropped for them. "Oh dear," he murmured.
Remus woke up pieces at a time, until at last it seemed that only his memory was still asleep. He scrunched his newly awake face, trying to startle it into remembering why he was in the Infirmary. Not a moon night, that had been the night that. That, oh.
Remus sat up, remembering the blurred aftereffects of a hex. He'd smelled something singed, realising it was his hair only after he'd hit the ground. Falling down, he thought now, was a lot like waking up backwards -- one felt it in different places.
One felt lots of things, Remus thought, as he saw Sirius lying in the next bed over. A half image came to him, quite unbidden, of Sirius dropping his wand, of it sinking into the wet snow and of Sirius, turning to look at him, bathed in yellow light.
Remus stood, glancing about to make sure Madame Pomfrey wasn't looking. (He was here often enough, he thought, that she probably didn't even notice him taking up a bed. Remus didn't entirely mind feeling like furniture. An end table, maybe or - he chuckled - a bookshelf.)
Padding over to Sirius' bed, he glanced down at the unconscious boy. Sirius lay stretched out on the bed, arms and legs akimbo, as if he'd fallen asleep in any number of the nooks he'd come to occupy in the dormitory: the windowsill, the rug in front of the fire, even, to Remus' surprise, under Remus' bed. ("It smells like chestnuts," Sirius had yawned, and then fixed Remus with one of the smiles that made him the bane of professors and beloved of Gryffindor.)
Remus had never known what to make of a sleeping Sirius. It didn't fit, he thought, and yet it did; Sirius slept the way he did anything else – intensely. Lips parted, chest stuttering slightly with every breath, Sirius slept on, unaware that Remus was, was what? Was watching his closed eyes for any sign of movement? Was sliding a hand along the edge of the bed to straighten his crooked knee? (He'd wake up with a cramp in it otherwise.) Was wondering what would happen if he woke Sirius up and said, I'm ready talk now, are you ready? (Remus bet that he was.)
Remus stuck his hands in his pockets to keep them from roaming, came out with the chocolate frog. One of its legs dangled, flattened from his fall. Better to eat this one quickly, not to let it try and escape and fall back. Remus petted the top of the wrapper, set it down on Sirius' bedside wordlessly.
Hearing Madame Pomfrey in the distance, he slipped back into his own bed.
At night, Remus ran the days through his head, letting the moments of almost-words and meaningful glances pass by as they had in life. He floated a hand down his body, touching the soft places, remembering the hitch in Sirius' voice. "I'm – I'm s-s—"
I'm going mad, Remus thought, and the sound of the word felt nice, too, nice like hands. Mad, he smiled, to think that he'd ever mattered, mad to keep this going to for so long, mad to wonder, as he bit back a moan, if anyone (not anyone) was listening.
"Did you mean it?" Sirius cornered him in the hall, never one for introduction.
Remus looked away, at the people streaming around them. Most stopped to look at Sirius, either out of envy, or lust, or pride. No one, Remus thought, ever gave him those sorts of looks. (He wondered if they prickled.)
"Did you mean it?" he repeated, lower this time. "The – the frog."
Remus nodded.
"Brilliant," Sirius grinned, and it was as if the entire world flickered into color again.
Seville
City in southwestern Spain on the Guadalquivir River; a major port and cultural center.
‡ Seville is the capital of bullfighting in Spain.
"Merlin, Peter!"
Remus wouldn't look up. He tucked his book closer to his chest, feeling the leathered edges rub his ribs through his jumper. Did Sirius even know he was here?
‡ Two famous operas, Carmen and The Barber of Seville, are set in Seville.
"Are you thick or something? Were you dropped on your head as a baby?" There. In the last word – baby – Sirius had hesitated, searching for the right word. Good lord, a performance for his benefit. A carcass, laid out for him in a gesture of peace. How very canine.
Remus sucked in a breath, as if to note how unnecessary this whole thing was. After all, there was the frog, even though it was a bit squashed. And there were Sirius' eyes, which hadn't seemed to left his shoulders for all of class today.
And it did matter.
Send Feedback to the Author of
Ampliatio (a remix of Apposition)
|
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters
belong to their owners/creators/copyright holders. This fan-written
fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
|