Happy, random squee :)
Jan. 10th, 2006 09:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lls_mutantI almost have Part 10 of Accidentally In Love done!!!!! FINALLY!!!
They began planning the next morning, and the first step in their plans was to tour the Imperial Palace.
For months- no, years, truly- Remus and Regulus had hated each other. Sometimes outright, sometimes cordially, but the fact was Remus thought of Regulus as Sirius's snobbish, spoiled, selfish little brother and Regulus thought of Remus as the epitome of everything his line had stood against. They'd worked together, yes, but that was out of necessity, not out of desire.
Now, here they were in the Imperial Palace, thousands of miles from Hogwarts or London, and they'd finally found common ground.
"This is the Portrait Hall," Regulus whispered reverently when they entered. Both of them stared around at the paintings, the mammoth portrait of Nicholas I, the huge chandeliers, the gilded furniture. "It's nothing like what we've seen outside, is it?" Regulus murmured.
"It's nothing like I've ever seen before." Remus gravitated over to a table holding ornate antiques. "Look at these. These must be worth a fortune."
Regulus looked over his shoulder. "At least."
"You actually sound impressed. I thought your family was rich."
Regulus snorted. "There is a difference between rich and aristocracy," he said. "Despite what my parents would have us believe. We're the first, and perhaps figuratively the second, but nothing like what the Romanovs were." He turned and inhaled deeply. "The columns," was all he said.
Remus could see why he appreciated them: giant pillars of marble framing a row of ornate crystal chandeliers.
They both knew that no reliquary of Rasputin's would be on the paths or in the rooms marked out for tourists. But they wandered through every last room regardless, taking their time to dawdle over what fascinated them most.
"It astounds me, in a way, that a tsar would create something like the Mountain Room," Remus said that afternoon, when they stopped at a restaurant for a late lunch.
"Why?" Regulus asked around a mouthful of dried herring. "Tsars have children as well. Well, had."
Remus shrugged. "You just never think of people in history having lives. They're names and dates and figures and deeds, but not really people."
"On the contrary," Regulus said, wiping the grease from his mouth with a paper napkin. "That's exactly what makes history interesting. It's that these people who did these great things had lives. They had wives that they fought with over money and children who they yelled at to go to bed and they had pets and they liked Quidditch or Gobstones or art or whatever, and they went to school. When you remember that history was real people, it becomes far more attainable and incidentally far more fascinating."
"I always fell asleep in History of Magic," Remus confessed.
"It was my favorite class," Regulus said. "I was going to do the N.E.W.T. level, but…" he shrugged, but Remus saw regret etched on his face.
"Why didn't you?"
Regulus stared at him for a long moment as if he were an idiot, and suddenly Remus remembered that Regulus had started Hogwarts when they'd been in their first year. He'd been in the service of the Death Eaters for two years, which meant….
"Oh."
Something hard and cold in Regulus's expression thawed slightly. He propped his chin on his hand. "I got twelve O.W.L.s," he said. "That’s even more than Sirius. I was a Prefect my fifth year, and I probably would have been a candidate for Head Boy. But my father told me I'd go further in Voldemort's service."
"And here you are."
"Here I am," Regulus agreed. The words hung thick in the air between them, until finally Regulus sighed. "A glorified delivery boy and petty thief," he sighed.
Remus felt like he was walking on a tightrope, not quite sure what the right thing to say next would be. He watched, mute, as the emotions flickered across Regulus's face, bringing the resemblance between him and Sirius to the forefront. Then suddenly, he snapped out of it and balled up his paper.
"We'll have to go back to the Palace tomorrow," he said. "We never did find anything related to Rasputin."
Remus almost smacked himself in the forehead. "I totally forgot. I was just enjoying it too much."
Regulus sighed. "So was I."
They began planning the next morning, and the first step in their plans was to tour the Imperial Palace.
For months- no, years, truly- Remus and Regulus had hated each other. Sometimes outright, sometimes cordially, but the fact was Remus thought of Regulus as Sirius's snobbish, spoiled, selfish little brother and Regulus thought of Remus as the epitome of everything his line had stood against. They'd worked together, yes, but that was out of necessity, not out of desire.
Now, here they were in the Imperial Palace, thousands of miles from Hogwarts or London, and they'd finally found common ground.
"This is the Portrait Hall," Regulus whispered reverently when they entered. Both of them stared around at the paintings, the mammoth portrait of Nicholas I, the huge chandeliers, the gilded furniture. "It's nothing like what we've seen outside, is it?" Regulus murmured.
"It's nothing like I've ever seen before." Remus gravitated over to a table holding ornate antiques. "Look at these. These must be worth a fortune."
Regulus looked over his shoulder. "At least."
"You actually sound impressed. I thought your family was rich."
Regulus snorted. "There is a difference between rich and aristocracy," he said. "Despite what my parents would have us believe. We're the first, and perhaps figuratively the second, but nothing like what the Romanovs were." He turned and inhaled deeply. "The columns," was all he said.
Remus could see why he appreciated them: giant pillars of marble framing a row of ornate crystal chandeliers.
They both knew that no reliquary of Rasputin's would be on the paths or in the rooms marked out for tourists. But they wandered through every last room regardless, taking their time to dawdle over what fascinated them most.
"It astounds me, in a way, that a tsar would create something like the Mountain Room," Remus said that afternoon, when they stopped at a restaurant for a late lunch.
"Why?" Regulus asked around a mouthful of dried herring. "Tsars have children as well. Well, had."
Remus shrugged. "You just never think of people in history having lives. They're names and dates and figures and deeds, but not really people."
"On the contrary," Regulus said, wiping the grease from his mouth with a paper napkin. "That's exactly what makes history interesting. It's that these people who did these great things had lives. They had wives that they fought with over money and children who they yelled at to go to bed and they had pets and they liked Quidditch or Gobstones or art or whatever, and they went to school. When you remember that history was real people, it becomes far more attainable and incidentally far more fascinating."
"I always fell asleep in History of Magic," Remus confessed.
"It was my favorite class," Regulus said. "I was going to do the N.E.W.T. level, but…" he shrugged, but Remus saw regret etched on his face.
"Why didn't you?"
Regulus stared at him for a long moment as if he were an idiot, and suddenly Remus remembered that Regulus had started Hogwarts when they'd been in their first year. He'd been in the service of the Death Eaters for two years, which meant….
"Oh."
Something hard and cold in Regulus's expression thawed slightly. He propped his chin on his hand. "I got twelve O.W.L.s," he said. "That’s even more than Sirius. I was a Prefect my fifth year, and I probably would have been a candidate for Head Boy. But my father told me I'd go further in Voldemort's service."
"And here you are."
"Here I am," Regulus agreed. The words hung thick in the air between them, until finally Regulus sighed. "A glorified delivery boy and petty thief," he sighed.
Remus felt like he was walking on a tightrope, not quite sure what the right thing to say next would be. He watched, mute, as the emotions flickered across Regulus's face, bringing the resemblance between him and Sirius to the forefront. Then suddenly, he snapped out of it and balled up his paper.
"We'll have to go back to the Palace tomorrow," he said. "We never did find anything related to Rasputin."
Remus almost smacked himself in the forehead. "I totally forgot. I was just enjoying it too much."
Regulus sighed. "So was I."
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no subject
Date: 2006-01-10 07:21 pm (UTC)