Fic: The Reality Checkpoint for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
penhaligonblue
Dec. 26th, 2007 11:06 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
rosemaryandrue.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
small_giftsTitle: The Reality Checkpoint
Author:rosemaryandrue
Written for:penhaligonblue
Rating: PG for swearing
Prompt: (1) Illustration of any scene from rosemaryandrue's Winter of Discontent, and (2) Medieval/university town (esp. Cambridge)
Summary: The boys are Aurors and in Cambridge following up a lead in a murder case. Remus would rather be trying to seduce an in-denial Sirius.
I’m afraid I can’t draw, sweetie, but this is a ‘missing scene’ from WoD, set on day 19 when Remus and Sirius are chasing leads about Alan Radcliffe’s murder. I hope it also stands alone.
Any other notes, warnings, etc.: Thanks toglass_icarus for the beta.
Um, the lamp-post is real and can be found on Parker’s Piece. Michaelhouse was one of the colleges dissolved by Henry VIII so that he could form Trinity College.
The lamp-post had the words ‘Reality Checkpoint’ painted around its base. Around it, the fog smudged out everything beyond, so it seemed like the paths that crossed here had led their way out of nothingness. There was a city out there somewhere, full of life and traffic, but right now it seemed to Remus that he really was caught between realities, like the place where you hung when a portkey jammed.
It probably didn’t help that he was so tired that he could barely feel his feet touching the ground and so cold he didn’t think his fingers would bend any more.
A black dog came loping out of the fog, pausing by the lamp-post to lift a leg, grinning toothily.
“That stopped being funny years ago,” Remus said wearily.
The dog blurred up into Sirius, who shoved his hands into his pockets and smirked. “Really?”
Remus eyed him sourly. “Just because you still find it amusing, doesn’t mean anyone else does.”
“Prongs always laughs.”
“That proves nothing,” Remus said, blowing on his hands.
“Where’s your gloves?” Sirius asked, voice suddenly sharp.
Remus put his hands in his pockets and tried to hold back a sarcastic look. Yes, Sirius,, he thought, we’re just friends. You don’t fret over me every moment of the day, oh, no. Course not.
“Moony?”
“I don’t know,” Remus said. “Somewhere on your floor, probably. Padfoot, we’re not in Cambridge to talk about gloves.”
Sirius grinned. “I found the city.”
Remus sighed with relief. “We are never, ever going to admit to anyone that we lost it, are we?”
“Never,” Sirius avowed, wincing. They’d been stumbling around this bit of park for half an hour. Parks really shouldn’t be allowed in the middle of fog-prone cities.
They set off through the fog. Every breath Remus took stung his lips. Behind them, the lamp-post faded out of view, and the fog grew darker around them. Remus sighed, watching his breath merge into the fog. They had been travelling for hours, following the trail of a murdered man. Now Moody had sent them here, to tell a girl that her cousin was dead and to interrogate her about his last movements.
Lucy Radcliffe had not been in her digs just off Mill Road, but a disgruntled housemate had hung out the window and, after telling them to fuck off until a civilised hour, had admitted that Lucy had a boyfriend in Michaelhouse. It had taken considerable flirtation from Sirius, and Remus flashing his Auror’s identification, before he had parted with the name of the boyfriend.
Maybe it was yesterday’s murder, or the leeching effect of the fog, but Remus was finding it hard to appreciate Cambridge. The narrow roads full of terraced houses felt grim and grey and Mill Road, full of dirt and discount shops and restaurants from every corner of the world, felt like London without the energy.
Or it could just be that he was grumpy from sleep deprivation.
“Am I a morning person?” he asked out loud.
Sirius honked with laughter and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Can Celestina Warbeck actually hold a tune?”
“There’s no need to be that rude about it,” muttered Remus. Sirius’ arm was warm around his shoulders, and if he was to do this flirtation thing right he should probably lean into it and say something, but he was feeling too cold to be manipulative. Why couldn’t the war just stop, so they could all live normal lives and not have to get up in the middle of the night? Of course, if the war did stop, he’d probably be out of a job, because the Aurors had only taken him in the first place because they were getting killed so fast that his furry little problem probably wouldn’t matter for long.
“Moony,” Sirius said expansively. “You get out of bed on the wrong side so often that there’s actually a dent in the wall.”
“Thanks,” Remus muttered.
“Though you should probably perk up a bit. Been awake for hours now.”
“We’ve been awake for hours and it’s still dark!” Remus snapped.
“Who needs a regular sleep pattern?” Sirius asked. He looked at home in the fog, all shadowy colours and wild excitement. At some point tonight, Remus knew, Sirius would just stop, midway through a sentence, and would sleep like a dog, sprawled out and easy.
“I do.”
Sirius snorted and suddenly pounced. One hand went into Remus’ coat and he yelped and wriggled at the blast of cold. The other cupped his cheek and Sirius said, “Hah! That’s why you’re grumpy.”
What? Remus thought, Because you want to shag me and won’t? Or because I can’t stand being with you all the time and only being your friend?
“You forgot your warming charms again,” Sirius said and warmth spread out from his hands, rippling through Remus until his breath quickened. “Honestly, mate, what would you do without me?”
“Freeze to death in an alley somewhere, no doubt,” Remus said dryly, and now he was warm he could lean in and soften his voice. “Of course, that’s the only reason I keep you around.”
Sirius blushed, and whipped his hand out of Remus’ shirt. He said, obviously flailing, “But, Moony, I thought you loved me.”
Remus gaped at him, speechless, and the longer he hesitated the worse the silence got.
“Er,” Sirius said, backing away. “Cambridge. Um, Michaelhouse. Strange place, y’know, all old and full of, er, scholary people. Funny that, because…”
The fog was thick. Three steps would let him push Sirius off the path and out of sight of any passers-by.
“…knew a girl who lost her knickers in the Fellows’ garden,” Sirius was blathering.
But the ground was hard with frost and Ted would kill them if they got distracted, so Remus just gritted his teeth before saying tactfully, “Shall we get going, then?”
When they emerged from the park, it still didn’t look much like his mental picture of Cambridge, but there was a handy map on a sign on the corner. Sirius leapt over towards it, casting nervous glances in his direction, so Remus stood a little closer than he should have done to study it. He was feeling better.
The road they were in seemed to change names every few hundred metres, but it would get them closer to the colleges. It didn’t show Michaelhouse, of course, but Sirius was able to point at the general area.
They started up the road, watching college gates and pub fronts emerge out of the mist. Several newsagents were shut, with signs in their windows announcing, ‘No milk’ or ‘Out of bread.’ A newspaper sign proclaimed, ‘Nurses strike too!’
“D’you think she’ll know anything?” Sirius asked.
Remus shrugged. “Probably not, but it would be daft not to ask.”
He got a heavy sigh in return. “I hate plodding.”
“We could run,” Remus suggested.
He got a glower in return.
They almost got lost again outside the Robert Sayle department store. Remus had to go hunting for a sympathetic old lady to get directions, but they soon found themselves heading down a side road towards the main market square.
The market was quiet, but some of the traders had managed to arrive despite the strikes. They wandered across the middle of it, surrounded by bright fabrics and unhappy-looking vegetables, flowers and knock-off college scarves. Remus veered off towards a second-hand book stall, and had to be reeled back in by his scarf.
“Ted will know,” Sirius said firmly and marched him off.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” Remus asked suspiciously.
“Course I do!” Sirius protested. “We go past Fat St Mary’s and up some Roman geezer’s back passage and then past a college named after some bird’s tit and then the entrance to Michaelhouse is hidden on the corner.”
“You haven’t got a clue, have you?” Remus protested, letting Sirius tow him past the church.
Then King’s Chapel came looming out of the mist and stole his breath. He stopped dead, staring at it. It was too huge to make sense, and his brain kept insisting it was an illusion, even as he watched people walk by. It would take five of him to even reach the bottom of the window.
“I reckon the architect was compensating for something,” Sirius said and dragged him right. “Come on.”
Remus spluttered, but then Sirius jerked to a halt again. He was staring at the railings around the church. The railings were adorned by a row of gloves, all stiff with frost.
“Why do people do that?” Sirius demanded.
“Dunno. Muggle tradition?”
Sirius snorted, shaking his head, and loped over to pluck two gloves off the ends of the rails. “Here you go, mate. Can’t have you going round without gloves all day.”
“But they belong to someone!” Remus protested. One of them also had Mickey Mouse on it, but that was a problem which involved far too much explanation. He doubted that anyone in the House of Black had ever heard of Disney (except Andromeda, of course, but she, like Sirius, was an exception to every rule).
“So?” Sirius said impatiently. “They obviously don’t want them. Put them on.”
Remus was still smiling as they walked up Senate House Passage (and, all right, maybe Sirius wasn’t talking complete bollocks), dodging mad cyclists as they came swooping out of the mist. His left hand was encased in pink wool, and his right hand in blue fleece, complete with grinning mouse. Sirius’ hand was still gripping his arm, and he was warm.
As they huddled against the wall and waited for Michaelhouse to open up before them, Remus reflected that although this was likely to be a dreadful day, at least he would be spending it in good company.
Author:
rosemaryandrueWritten for:
penhaligonblueRating: PG for swearing
Prompt: (1) Illustration of any scene from rosemaryandrue's Winter of Discontent, and (2) Medieval/university town (esp. Cambridge)
Summary: The boys are Aurors and in Cambridge following up a lead in a murder case. Remus would rather be trying to seduce an in-denial Sirius.
I’m afraid I can’t draw, sweetie, but this is a ‘missing scene’ from WoD, set on day 19 when Remus and Sirius are chasing leads about Alan Radcliffe’s murder. I hope it also stands alone.
Any other notes, warnings, etc.: Thanks to
glass_icarus for the beta.Um, the lamp-post is real and can be found on Parker’s Piece. Michaelhouse was one of the colleges dissolved by Henry VIII so that he could form Trinity College.
The lamp-post had the words ‘Reality Checkpoint’ painted around its base. Around it, the fog smudged out everything beyond, so it seemed like the paths that crossed here had led their way out of nothingness. There was a city out there somewhere, full of life and traffic, but right now it seemed to Remus that he really was caught between realities, like the place where you hung when a portkey jammed.
It probably didn’t help that he was so tired that he could barely feel his feet touching the ground and so cold he didn’t think his fingers would bend any more.
A black dog came loping out of the fog, pausing by the lamp-post to lift a leg, grinning toothily.
“That stopped being funny years ago,” Remus said wearily.
The dog blurred up into Sirius, who shoved his hands into his pockets and smirked. “Really?”
Remus eyed him sourly. “Just because you still find it amusing, doesn’t mean anyone else does.”
“Prongs always laughs.”
“That proves nothing,” Remus said, blowing on his hands.
“Where’s your gloves?” Sirius asked, voice suddenly sharp.
Remus put his hands in his pockets and tried to hold back a sarcastic look. Yes, Sirius,, he thought, we’re just friends. You don’t fret over me every moment of the day, oh, no. Course not.
“Moony?”
“I don’t know,” Remus said. “Somewhere on your floor, probably. Padfoot, we’re not in Cambridge to talk about gloves.”
Sirius grinned. “I found the city.”
Remus sighed with relief. “We are never, ever going to admit to anyone that we lost it, are we?”
“Never,” Sirius avowed, wincing. They’d been stumbling around this bit of park for half an hour. Parks really shouldn’t be allowed in the middle of fog-prone cities.
They set off through the fog. Every breath Remus took stung his lips. Behind them, the lamp-post faded out of view, and the fog grew darker around them. Remus sighed, watching his breath merge into the fog. They had been travelling for hours, following the trail of a murdered man. Now Moody had sent them here, to tell a girl that her cousin was dead and to interrogate her about his last movements.
Lucy Radcliffe had not been in her digs just off Mill Road, but a disgruntled housemate had hung out the window and, after telling them to fuck off until a civilised hour, had admitted that Lucy had a boyfriend in Michaelhouse. It had taken considerable flirtation from Sirius, and Remus flashing his Auror’s identification, before he had parted with the name of the boyfriend.
Maybe it was yesterday’s murder, or the leeching effect of the fog, but Remus was finding it hard to appreciate Cambridge. The narrow roads full of terraced houses felt grim and grey and Mill Road, full of dirt and discount shops and restaurants from every corner of the world, felt like London without the energy.
Or it could just be that he was grumpy from sleep deprivation.
“Am I a morning person?” he asked out loud.
Sirius honked with laughter and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Can Celestina Warbeck actually hold a tune?”
“There’s no need to be that rude about it,” muttered Remus. Sirius’ arm was warm around his shoulders, and if he was to do this flirtation thing right he should probably lean into it and say something, but he was feeling too cold to be manipulative. Why couldn’t the war just stop, so they could all live normal lives and not have to get up in the middle of the night? Of course, if the war did stop, he’d probably be out of a job, because the Aurors had only taken him in the first place because they were getting killed so fast that his furry little problem probably wouldn’t matter for long.
“Moony,” Sirius said expansively. “You get out of bed on the wrong side so often that there’s actually a dent in the wall.”
“Thanks,” Remus muttered.
“Though you should probably perk up a bit. Been awake for hours now.”
“We’ve been awake for hours and it’s still dark!” Remus snapped.
“Who needs a regular sleep pattern?” Sirius asked. He looked at home in the fog, all shadowy colours and wild excitement. At some point tonight, Remus knew, Sirius would just stop, midway through a sentence, and would sleep like a dog, sprawled out and easy.
“I do.”
Sirius snorted and suddenly pounced. One hand went into Remus’ coat and he yelped and wriggled at the blast of cold. The other cupped his cheek and Sirius said, “Hah! That’s why you’re grumpy.”
What? Remus thought, Because you want to shag me and won’t? Or because I can’t stand being with you all the time and only being your friend?
“You forgot your warming charms again,” Sirius said and warmth spread out from his hands, rippling through Remus until his breath quickened. “Honestly, mate, what would you do without me?”
“Freeze to death in an alley somewhere, no doubt,” Remus said dryly, and now he was warm he could lean in and soften his voice. “Of course, that’s the only reason I keep you around.”
Sirius blushed, and whipped his hand out of Remus’ shirt. He said, obviously flailing, “But, Moony, I thought you loved me.”
Remus gaped at him, speechless, and the longer he hesitated the worse the silence got.
“Er,” Sirius said, backing away. “Cambridge. Um, Michaelhouse. Strange place, y’know, all old and full of, er, scholary people. Funny that, because…”
The fog was thick. Three steps would let him push Sirius off the path and out of sight of any passers-by.
“…knew a girl who lost her knickers in the Fellows’ garden,” Sirius was blathering.
But the ground was hard with frost and Ted would kill them if they got distracted, so Remus just gritted his teeth before saying tactfully, “Shall we get going, then?”
When they emerged from the park, it still didn’t look much like his mental picture of Cambridge, but there was a handy map on a sign on the corner. Sirius leapt over towards it, casting nervous glances in his direction, so Remus stood a little closer than he should have done to study it. He was feeling better.
The road they were in seemed to change names every few hundred metres, but it would get them closer to the colleges. It didn’t show Michaelhouse, of course, but Sirius was able to point at the general area.
They started up the road, watching college gates and pub fronts emerge out of the mist. Several newsagents were shut, with signs in their windows announcing, ‘No milk’ or ‘Out of bread.’ A newspaper sign proclaimed, ‘Nurses strike too!’
“D’you think she’ll know anything?” Sirius asked.
Remus shrugged. “Probably not, but it would be daft not to ask.”
He got a heavy sigh in return. “I hate plodding.”
“We could run,” Remus suggested.
He got a glower in return.
They almost got lost again outside the Robert Sayle department store. Remus had to go hunting for a sympathetic old lady to get directions, but they soon found themselves heading down a side road towards the main market square.
The market was quiet, but some of the traders had managed to arrive despite the strikes. They wandered across the middle of it, surrounded by bright fabrics and unhappy-looking vegetables, flowers and knock-off college scarves. Remus veered off towards a second-hand book stall, and had to be reeled back in by his scarf.
“Ted will know,” Sirius said firmly and marched him off.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” Remus asked suspiciously.
“Course I do!” Sirius protested. “We go past Fat St Mary’s and up some Roman geezer’s back passage and then past a college named after some bird’s tit and then the entrance to Michaelhouse is hidden on the corner.”
“You haven’t got a clue, have you?” Remus protested, letting Sirius tow him past the church.
Then King’s Chapel came looming out of the mist and stole his breath. He stopped dead, staring at it. It was too huge to make sense, and his brain kept insisting it was an illusion, even as he watched people walk by. It would take five of him to even reach the bottom of the window.
“I reckon the architect was compensating for something,” Sirius said and dragged him right. “Come on.”
Remus spluttered, but then Sirius jerked to a halt again. He was staring at the railings around the church. The railings were adorned by a row of gloves, all stiff with frost.
“Why do people do that?” Sirius demanded.
“Dunno. Muggle tradition?”
Sirius snorted, shaking his head, and loped over to pluck two gloves off the ends of the rails. “Here you go, mate. Can’t have you going round without gloves all day.”
“But they belong to someone!” Remus protested. One of them also had Mickey Mouse on it, but that was a problem which involved far too much explanation. He doubted that anyone in the House of Black had ever heard of Disney (except Andromeda, of course, but she, like Sirius, was an exception to every rule).
“So?” Sirius said impatiently. “They obviously don’t want them. Put them on.”
Remus was still smiling as they walked up Senate House Passage (and, all right, maybe Sirius wasn’t talking complete bollocks), dodging mad cyclists as they came swooping out of the mist. His left hand was encased in pink wool, and his right hand in blue fleece, complete with grinning mouse. Sirius’ hand was still gripping his arm, and he was warm.
As they huddled against the wall and waited for Michaelhouse to open up before them, Remus reflected that although this was likely to be a dreadful day, at least he would be spending it in good company.
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no subject
Date: 2007-12-29 04:18 pm (UTC)HEH. So Sirius, this part!! This is absolutely lovely! I like how it's Remus seducing Sirius, and not the other way round :D And you managed to include Mickey Mouse too! SO MUCH LOVE.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 11:03 am (UTC)This comes from the middle of a long piece where Sirius has decided he's too dangerous for Remus, and Remus has finally lost patience. Poor Sirius doesn't quite know what's hit him. ^_^
Thanks for the comment :) I'm glad you enjoyed it.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-29 05:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 11:09 am (UTC)*grins* I'm glad you enjoyed it. It was quite nice to pop back into an old story like this. And, yes, a very cool lamppost indeed.
Thanks for the comment :)
no subject
Date: 2007-12-29 10:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 11:14 am (UTC)Thanks for the comment :) I'm glad you enjoyed it.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-29 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 11:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-30 01:31 am (UTC)My regrettably few visits to Cambridge have not yielded a strong familiarity with its geography, but you managed to give the boys an itinerary that I recognized - though perhaps this is simply because the route may be popular with tourists like myself. In any case, the recognizability pleased me. King's College Chapel springing up out of the mist was exquisite (and Sirius's remark was classic). I'm curious about the glove tradition.
One hundred thousand thank yous!
no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 11:25 am (UTC)The places where magic meets reality are one of my ongoing fascinations with these books. Thinking about the Cambridge I know, it was surprisingly easy to slide wizarding elements into place, especially once I figured out that the entrance to Michaelhouse must be in a road I've always thought oddly devoid of doorways.
King's is breathtaking in the mist. It's so out of proportion to the rest of the college that it actually seems to float above the mist. I thought my Remus would like it, but Sirius is more of a people person.
I was just thinking of when you see lost gloves stuck on railings so they're obvious if anyone comes looking for them.
*hugs* Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it!
no subject
Date: 2007-12-30 02:43 am (UTC)Parks really shouldn’t be allowed in the middle of fog-prone cities.
and
“You get out of bed on the wrong side so often that there’s actually a dent in the wall.”
no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 11:28 am (UTC)I hope you enjoyed your trip to Cambridge! Don't be put off by the weather - it's much less bleak in the summer.
Thanks for the comment :) I'm glad you enjoyed it.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-30 06:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 11:28 am (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for commenting :)
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Date: 2007-12-30 08:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 11:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-31 11:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 11:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-01 02:42 am (UTC)“But, Moony, I thought you loved me.”
That was the most perfect line ever, and especially Remus's reaction just made the whole thing complete awesomeness.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 11:41 am (UTC)Thanks for the comment :) I'm glad you enjoyed it.