A Conversation on Chivalry (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scarvesnhats Day 22)
Oct. 28th, 2005 06:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rosie_ruesTitle: A Conversation on Chivalry
Rating: PG (for language)
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm just borrowing them.
Wordcount: 2041
Prompt: The utterly gorgeous Nimrod variations. This is one of the bits of muisc which makes me think happy, epic thoughts. My inner Arthurian geek is happy right now :)
Notes: Sixth year. Sirius hates being ill.
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“Moony?”
Remus dropped his quill and said, “Sirius? Are you awake?”
“I think so.” He sounded very uncertain, his voice small and rasping.
Remus schooled his expression and looked up. Sirius had pressed his cheek to the side of the bed and was gazing down at him. His hair was stuck to the side of his nose and his cheeks were blotchy.
“Hello,” Remus said gently.
“’Lo. What are you doing down there?”
“Potions essay.”
Sirius scowled a little and then winced. “My head aches.”
“That would be the concussion.”
“My everything else aches too.”
“That’s the flu.”
“Oh. Don’t sit on the floor, Moony. Hurts looking at you.”
Remus put his essay aside and curled upon the bed beside Sirius. “Better?”
“Hah!” Sirius said and grabbed his ankle. “Can’t escape now.”
His grip was considerably weaker than little Nymphadora’s had been but Remus was too wise to point that out. Instead he brushed the hair out of Sirius’ eyes. He was still far too hot and Remus sighed. Madam Pomfrey had already warned them that his temperature would keep rising until he was delirious. It didn’t seem fair. People like Sirius had too much life in them to get ill.
“Moony. What happened?”
“You sneezed yourself backwards off a table.”
“Was there blood?”
“Lots of it,” Remus said lightly and shivered.
“Good.” Sirius said and squirmed around to press his shoulder against Remus’ thigh. “Can’t get comfy. Ache.”
“I can call Madam Pomfrey.”
“No!” Sirius said petulantly. “Want you.”
Remus knew he really shouldn’t feel so pleased over something so small. To hide it, he said, “Do you remember what happened?”
Sirius frowned. “Prongs had Lily’s bra on his head? And I did the catnip trick and you were a hamster.”
“That covers the main points,” Remus said and let himself stroke Sirius’ hair again.
Sirius pressed into his hand. “Nice. Stops the ache. Do it again.”
Remus kept stroking. Sirius closed his eyes. Remus thought he’d gone to sleep again until he said, “Reggie didn’t have concussion too.”
“No,” Remus said, trying not to laugh at him. “They’re still trying to get some of those curses off him, though.”
“Did I curse Reggie?”
“Thoroughly.”
“Don’t remember that.”
His hair was so soft, warm and heavy in his hands. It should have felt more like Padfoot’s fur, matted and pungent.
“I’m ill,” Sirius said indignantly.
“It happens to the best of us.”
“I don’t like it.”
“No one does.”
“Don’t laugh at me,” Sirius snapped and buried his head in the pillows.
Remus kept stroking. He might never have a valid excuse to touch Sirius again and he would make the most of this. He rubbed the back of Sirius’ neck and was rewarded by Sirius tightening his grip on his ankle.
An owl hooted and he looked up to see the Black family owl swoop in, a letter clutched in its talons.
“Get out!” Remus said and Sirius looked up.
“Not today,” he muttered. “I don’t want – I can’t-”
Remus grabbed his wand and thought for a moment. Then he thought of day they’d become animagi for him and said, “Expecto patronum.”
The light flowed out of his wand and split into three. The stag, the dog and the rat, joined by fine ribbons of light, charged the owl. It swooped and dived and the stag cut it off. Together, they drove it out of the window and Remus pointed his wand away. The window crashed closed, almost catching tail-feathers.
“Patronus?” Sirius said huskily.
“It is a guardian spell,” Remus said lightly and jumped as Sirius dropped his face against his thigh and burst into tears.
“Padfoot?” Remus asked, looking around frantically. “Don’t. I didn’t think you wanted the letter.”
“Of course I didn’t. I – I’m not crying.”
“Of course you’re not,” Remus said gently and got punched in the thigh.
“Not! You hexed Jormungardr.”
“I’m sorry,” Remus said frantically, patting him on the back. What were you supposed to do when you had a weeping, feverish Sirius Black attached to your thigh?
“Fucking brilliant. Hate that fucking bird.” Sirius scrubbed his eyes against Remus’ leg and then blew his nose loudly.
“That was my robes!”
“Sorry. Thought it was the sheet.”
“Sirius Black, please tell me you don’t blow your nose on the sheets.”
Sirius shook his head but didn’t look up.
“I am never letting you in my bed again,” Remus said, before remembering he was trying to avoid that topic.
“S’alright. You can come in mine. Well, not come necessarily but, y’know-”
“Sirius, shut up!”
He found himself being stared at by two doleful grey eyes. “You can’t shout at me. I’m ill.”
“Sorry,” Remus said, patting him again. “But people might get the wrong idea.”
“Don’t care. Hot.”
“Do you want a glass of water?” He started to get up and Sirius tightened his grip.
“Yes. Don’t go.”
People were definitely going to get the wrong idea. Faced with the woebegone specimen beside him, Remus found he didn’t care that much. He reached over dangerously to grab the jug on the bedside table and pour a glass of water.
“Sit up.”
“No.”
“You’ll spill it if you try to drink lying down. Do you want to sleep in a puddle.”
“Would ‘vaporate.”
“Sirius,” Remus said sternly. “Sit up.”
Sirius squirmed up against the pillows and then crashed back, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to be ill.”
Remus wrapped his hands around the cup and said, “Poor old Padfoot.”
“Not fair.”
It was a shame, Remus thought, that he couldn’t record this. Sirius was bound to deny later that he had ever whined.
Sirius drank quickly, lapping the water up. Then he dropped the glass and sank down again. Remus picked it up and put it back on the table. Sirius was staring at him. Remus smiled nervously. He was beginning to feel self-conscious under that steady regard. It wasn’t his fault Sirius had ended up in his bed. He hadn’t been the one to snuggle first. It wasn’t fair of Sirius to be upset with him for something he hadn’t started.
“You saved me from Jormungardr,” Sirius said and beamed.
“Real Sir Galahad, me,” Remus said dryly to hide his confusion. Of course Sirius was thinking at tangents.
“No!” Sirius said shaking his head. “Ow.”
“Lie still.”
“Not Galahad. Hate him. Had a picture of him at home. Drippy git. One of the others.”
“Lancelot?” Remus suggested.
“What did he do?”
“He’s famous.”
“Only know Galahad. And Merlin, of course.”
“He was Arthur’s foremost knight. The noblest and most true. No one could defeat him.”
“That’s me, then.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “Then he fell in love with Arthur’s wife and ended up running around a forest naked for years.”
“I don’t fancy Lily. And I like to keep my bits somewhere safe. And warm.”
“Stop right there before you provide too much information.”
“Prude,” Sirius said and curled round Remus’ thigh again. “Aches. ‘Nother one.”
“Gawain,” Remus suggested, rubbing his back again. “Eldest of the princes of Orkney. Arthur’s nephew.”
“Did he have brothers then?”
“Three of them. And a half-brother.”
“Tell.”
“Bit of a ladies man, Gawain. Brave, bit reckless, loyal. Hot-tempered. He always took the challenges the rest were too scared of.”
“I’ll be him, then,” Sirius said smugly. “Brothers?”
“Gaheris was the second eldest. He’s a bit like Gawain but less famous. Stopped him from doing stupid things when he lost his temper.”
“That’s Prongs, then. Second-best.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him you said that.”
“S’why I said it.”
“Then there were Gareth and Agravaine. You’re definitely not Gareth. He was the polite one. So worried about being judged in comparison to his brothers that he disguised himself as a servant and worked in Arthur’s kitchens for a year. Then he went and saved a damsel in distress and only revealed his identity once he succeeded.”
“Drip,” Sirius muttered. “Devious drip. He’s you.”
“Thanks.”
“And the other one’s Peter, right?”
Remus hesitated. He had just remembered what happened to Agravaine. “No, I don’t think so.”
Sirius glared. “Then it doesn’t fit. Why not?”
“Because of the way it ends,” Remus said.
“Bloody legends. What’s wrong with happy endings? Tell.”
“You won’t like it.”
Sirius prodded him in the hip. Hard. “Tell!”
“Their half-brother, Mordred, was Arthur’s illegitimate son-”
“Thought they were nephews?”
“They were. Very pureblood set-up.”
Sirius snorted against his leg. “More.”
“Right, Mordred wanted to seize the throne. Merlin was out of the way by then-”
“Know about Merlin. Some bird put Imperius on him.”
Remus looked at him sternly. “Don’t interrupt. Merlin wasn’t there to stop him so Mordred set up Lancelot so he got caught with Guinevere-”
“Trousers round his ankles?”
“They didn’t wear trousers in those days.”
“Ah. No wonder he didn’t worry about waving his bits about.”
“Agravaine helped Mordred and Lancelot killed him when he was trying to escape. Mordred was a bit pissed off, seeing as Agravaine was his favourite brother, and demanded that the queen be executed. Arthur agreed-”
“D’you think James would kill Lily if slept I with her?”
“I thought you liked Lily.”
“I do. Just wondered. Because he’s a freaky pervert.”
“Arthur agreed and Lancelot was forced to rescue her. Gareth and Gaheris were guarding her but they refused to wear armour because they disapproved and Lancelot killed them both by accident.”
“Git,” Sirius said sleepily. “Can’t trust a man who runs around forests naked.”
“How many times have you streaked in the Great Hall?”
“Different. S’inside. What happened next?”
“Gawain was almost mad with grief. He persuaded Arthur to pursue Lancelot into France. In their absence Mordred seized the throne. Arthur rushed home, landing at Dover. Gawain was killed in the battle there.”
“On the right side,” Sirius said. “In the end. What happened to the Slytherin one?”
It took a moment but Remus worked it out. “Mordred? Arthur continued the war against him but the country was divided. A lot of Lancelot’s friends joined Mordred even though they thought Arthur was right. Gawain had sent a message to Lancelot from his deathbed, begging him to come to Arthur’s aid.”
“Did he?”
“Not in time. The story says that Arthur dreamt he saw Gawain’s ghost. Gawain warned him not to fight the next day.”
“Why didn’t he listen?” Sirius demanded, sitting up. “A-achoo!”
Remus caught him before he shot off the bed, gripping his arms until he was still. He flopped back down, wan, and Remus said, “He did. He warned them all not to draw steel. It was bad luck. A snake bit one of the knights who drew his sword to kill it and that was enough to start the battle. They were all expecting treachery.”
“And did everyone die?” Sirius looked stricken.
“Yes,” Remus admitted, wishing he’d never started the story. “Except Sir Bedivere, the king’s oldest friend. He was the only survivor. He threw Arthur’s sword back into the lake – no, that’s another story entirely. Don’t ask. Bedivere was the one who saw what happened to Arthur.”
“Did he ever quarrel with Arthur?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Maybe Peter could be him, then. Better than the other one.”
“Okay,” Remus said gently and wiped the sweat off his forehead.
“What did happen to Arthur?”
“He was gravely wounded, nigh to death. Three queens came in a boat over the water and carried him away to Isle of Avalon.”
“He didn’t die?”
“No one knows. The legend says he’s just sleeping. He’ll come back one day, in Britain’s greatest hour of need.”
Sirius latched onto his thigh again and said vaguely, “He’s late. Should come and get rid of bloody Voldemort.”
“So he should,” Remus said and sighed. Sirius was asleep. How the hell did he do that so quickly?
He watched him for a while as he snuffled and moaned. His nightshirt was sticking to him and he was tossing in the bed. Sirius never moved in his sleep. Remus had often wondered how someone could sleep so serenely with so much on their conscience. He was feeling fairly guilty about that now.
He obviously wasn’t going to get his leg back.
Quietly, he whispered, “Accio essay,” and went back to work.
Rating: PG (for language)
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm just borrowing them.
Wordcount: 2041
Prompt: The utterly gorgeous Nimrod variations. This is one of the bits of muisc which makes me think happy, epic thoughts. My inner Arthurian geek is happy right now :)
Notes: Sixth year. Sirius hates being ill.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22
“Moony?”
Remus dropped his quill and said, “Sirius? Are you awake?”
“I think so.” He sounded very uncertain, his voice small and rasping.
Remus schooled his expression and looked up. Sirius had pressed his cheek to the side of the bed and was gazing down at him. His hair was stuck to the side of his nose and his cheeks were blotchy.
“Hello,” Remus said gently.
“’Lo. What are you doing down there?”
“Potions essay.”
Sirius scowled a little and then winced. “My head aches.”
“That would be the concussion.”
“My everything else aches too.”
“That’s the flu.”
“Oh. Don’t sit on the floor, Moony. Hurts looking at you.”
Remus put his essay aside and curled upon the bed beside Sirius. “Better?”
“Hah!” Sirius said and grabbed his ankle. “Can’t escape now.”
His grip was considerably weaker than little Nymphadora’s had been but Remus was too wise to point that out. Instead he brushed the hair out of Sirius’ eyes. He was still far too hot and Remus sighed. Madam Pomfrey had already warned them that his temperature would keep rising until he was delirious. It didn’t seem fair. People like Sirius had too much life in them to get ill.
“Moony. What happened?”
“You sneezed yourself backwards off a table.”
“Was there blood?”
“Lots of it,” Remus said lightly and shivered.
“Good.” Sirius said and squirmed around to press his shoulder against Remus’ thigh. “Can’t get comfy. Ache.”
“I can call Madam Pomfrey.”
“No!” Sirius said petulantly. “Want you.”
Remus knew he really shouldn’t feel so pleased over something so small. To hide it, he said, “Do you remember what happened?”
Sirius frowned. “Prongs had Lily’s bra on his head? And I did the catnip trick and you were a hamster.”
“That covers the main points,” Remus said and let himself stroke Sirius’ hair again.
Sirius pressed into his hand. “Nice. Stops the ache. Do it again.”
Remus kept stroking. Sirius closed his eyes. Remus thought he’d gone to sleep again until he said, “Reggie didn’t have concussion too.”
“No,” Remus said, trying not to laugh at him. “They’re still trying to get some of those curses off him, though.”
“Did I curse Reggie?”
“Thoroughly.”
“Don’t remember that.”
His hair was so soft, warm and heavy in his hands. It should have felt more like Padfoot’s fur, matted and pungent.
“I’m ill,” Sirius said indignantly.
“It happens to the best of us.”
“I don’t like it.”
“No one does.”
“Don’t laugh at me,” Sirius snapped and buried his head in the pillows.
Remus kept stroking. He might never have a valid excuse to touch Sirius again and he would make the most of this. He rubbed the back of Sirius’ neck and was rewarded by Sirius tightening his grip on his ankle.
An owl hooted and he looked up to see the Black family owl swoop in, a letter clutched in its talons.
“Get out!” Remus said and Sirius looked up.
“Not today,” he muttered. “I don’t want – I can’t-”
Remus grabbed his wand and thought for a moment. Then he thought of day they’d become animagi for him and said, “Expecto patronum.”
The light flowed out of his wand and split into three. The stag, the dog and the rat, joined by fine ribbons of light, charged the owl. It swooped and dived and the stag cut it off. Together, they drove it out of the window and Remus pointed his wand away. The window crashed closed, almost catching tail-feathers.
“Patronus?” Sirius said huskily.
“It is a guardian spell,” Remus said lightly and jumped as Sirius dropped his face against his thigh and burst into tears.
“Padfoot?” Remus asked, looking around frantically. “Don’t. I didn’t think you wanted the letter.”
“Of course I didn’t. I – I’m not crying.”
“Of course you’re not,” Remus said gently and got punched in the thigh.
“Not! You hexed Jormungardr.”
“I’m sorry,” Remus said frantically, patting him on the back. What were you supposed to do when you had a weeping, feverish Sirius Black attached to your thigh?
“Fucking brilliant. Hate that fucking bird.” Sirius scrubbed his eyes against Remus’ leg and then blew his nose loudly.
“That was my robes!”
“Sorry. Thought it was the sheet.”
“Sirius Black, please tell me you don’t blow your nose on the sheets.”
Sirius shook his head but didn’t look up.
“I am never letting you in my bed again,” Remus said, before remembering he was trying to avoid that topic.
“S’alright. You can come in mine. Well, not come necessarily but, y’know-”
“Sirius, shut up!”
He found himself being stared at by two doleful grey eyes. “You can’t shout at me. I’m ill.”
“Sorry,” Remus said, patting him again. “But people might get the wrong idea.”
“Don’t care. Hot.”
“Do you want a glass of water?” He started to get up and Sirius tightened his grip.
“Yes. Don’t go.”
People were definitely going to get the wrong idea. Faced with the woebegone specimen beside him, Remus found he didn’t care that much. He reached over dangerously to grab the jug on the bedside table and pour a glass of water.
“Sit up.”
“No.”
“You’ll spill it if you try to drink lying down. Do you want to sleep in a puddle.”
“Would ‘vaporate.”
“Sirius,” Remus said sternly. “Sit up.”
Sirius squirmed up against the pillows and then crashed back, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to be ill.”
Remus wrapped his hands around the cup and said, “Poor old Padfoot.”
“Not fair.”
It was a shame, Remus thought, that he couldn’t record this. Sirius was bound to deny later that he had ever whined.
Sirius drank quickly, lapping the water up. Then he dropped the glass and sank down again. Remus picked it up and put it back on the table. Sirius was staring at him. Remus smiled nervously. He was beginning to feel self-conscious under that steady regard. It wasn’t his fault Sirius had ended up in his bed. He hadn’t been the one to snuggle first. It wasn’t fair of Sirius to be upset with him for something he hadn’t started.
“You saved me from Jormungardr,” Sirius said and beamed.
“Real Sir Galahad, me,” Remus said dryly to hide his confusion. Of course Sirius was thinking at tangents.
“No!” Sirius said shaking his head. “Ow.”
“Lie still.”
“Not Galahad. Hate him. Had a picture of him at home. Drippy git. One of the others.”
“Lancelot?” Remus suggested.
“What did he do?”
“He’s famous.”
“Only know Galahad. And Merlin, of course.”
“He was Arthur’s foremost knight. The noblest and most true. No one could defeat him.”
“That’s me, then.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “Then he fell in love with Arthur’s wife and ended up running around a forest naked for years.”
“I don’t fancy Lily. And I like to keep my bits somewhere safe. And warm.”
“Stop right there before you provide too much information.”
“Prude,” Sirius said and curled round Remus’ thigh again. “Aches. ‘Nother one.”
“Gawain,” Remus suggested, rubbing his back again. “Eldest of the princes of Orkney. Arthur’s nephew.”
“Did he have brothers then?”
“Three of them. And a half-brother.”
“Tell.”
“Bit of a ladies man, Gawain. Brave, bit reckless, loyal. Hot-tempered. He always took the challenges the rest were too scared of.”
“I’ll be him, then,” Sirius said smugly. “Brothers?”
“Gaheris was the second eldest. He’s a bit like Gawain but less famous. Stopped him from doing stupid things when he lost his temper.”
“That’s Prongs, then. Second-best.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him you said that.”
“S’why I said it.”
“Then there were Gareth and Agravaine. You’re definitely not Gareth. He was the polite one. So worried about being judged in comparison to his brothers that he disguised himself as a servant and worked in Arthur’s kitchens for a year. Then he went and saved a damsel in distress and only revealed his identity once he succeeded.”
“Drip,” Sirius muttered. “Devious drip. He’s you.”
“Thanks.”
“And the other one’s Peter, right?”
Remus hesitated. He had just remembered what happened to Agravaine. “No, I don’t think so.”
Sirius glared. “Then it doesn’t fit. Why not?”
“Because of the way it ends,” Remus said.
“Bloody legends. What’s wrong with happy endings? Tell.”
“You won’t like it.”
Sirius prodded him in the hip. Hard. “Tell!”
“Their half-brother, Mordred, was Arthur’s illegitimate son-”
“Thought they were nephews?”
“They were. Very pureblood set-up.”
Sirius snorted against his leg. “More.”
“Right, Mordred wanted to seize the throne. Merlin was out of the way by then-”
“Know about Merlin. Some bird put Imperius on him.”
Remus looked at him sternly. “Don’t interrupt. Merlin wasn’t there to stop him so Mordred set up Lancelot so he got caught with Guinevere-”
“Trousers round his ankles?”
“They didn’t wear trousers in those days.”
“Ah. No wonder he didn’t worry about waving his bits about.”
“Agravaine helped Mordred and Lancelot killed him when he was trying to escape. Mordred was a bit pissed off, seeing as Agravaine was his favourite brother, and demanded that the queen be executed. Arthur agreed-”
“D’you think James would kill Lily if slept I with her?”
“I thought you liked Lily.”
“I do. Just wondered. Because he’s a freaky pervert.”
“Arthur agreed and Lancelot was forced to rescue her. Gareth and Gaheris were guarding her but they refused to wear armour because they disapproved and Lancelot killed them both by accident.”
“Git,” Sirius said sleepily. “Can’t trust a man who runs around forests naked.”
“How many times have you streaked in the Great Hall?”
“Different. S’inside. What happened next?”
“Gawain was almost mad with grief. He persuaded Arthur to pursue Lancelot into France. In their absence Mordred seized the throne. Arthur rushed home, landing at Dover. Gawain was killed in the battle there.”
“On the right side,” Sirius said. “In the end. What happened to the Slytherin one?”
It took a moment but Remus worked it out. “Mordred? Arthur continued the war against him but the country was divided. A lot of Lancelot’s friends joined Mordred even though they thought Arthur was right. Gawain had sent a message to Lancelot from his deathbed, begging him to come to Arthur’s aid.”
“Did he?”
“Not in time. The story says that Arthur dreamt he saw Gawain’s ghost. Gawain warned him not to fight the next day.”
“Why didn’t he listen?” Sirius demanded, sitting up. “A-achoo!”
Remus caught him before he shot off the bed, gripping his arms until he was still. He flopped back down, wan, and Remus said, “He did. He warned them all not to draw steel. It was bad luck. A snake bit one of the knights who drew his sword to kill it and that was enough to start the battle. They were all expecting treachery.”
“And did everyone die?” Sirius looked stricken.
“Yes,” Remus admitted, wishing he’d never started the story. “Except Sir Bedivere, the king’s oldest friend. He was the only survivor. He threw Arthur’s sword back into the lake – no, that’s another story entirely. Don’t ask. Bedivere was the one who saw what happened to Arthur.”
“Did he ever quarrel with Arthur?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Maybe Peter could be him, then. Better than the other one.”
“Okay,” Remus said gently and wiped the sweat off his forehead.
“What did happen to Arthur?”
“He was gravely wounded, nigh to death. Three queens came in a boat over the water and carried him away to Isle of Avalon.”
“He didn’t die?”
“No one knows. The legend says he’s just sleeping. He’ll come back one day, in Britain’s greatest hour of need.”
Sirius latched onto his thigh again and said vaguely, “He’s late. Should come and get rid of bloody Voldemort.”
“So he should,” Remus said and sighed. Sirius was asleep. How the hell did he do that so quickly?
He watched him for a while as he snuffled and moaned. His nightshirt was sticking to him and he was tossing in the bed. Sirius never moved in his sleep. Remus had often wondered how someone could sleep so serenely with so much on their conscience. He was feeling fairly guilty about that now.
He obviously wasn’t going to get his leg back.
Quietly, he whispered, “Accio essay,” and went back to work.
