Title: A Christmas Market in Hogsmeade
Author:
wandersfound
Recipient:
batmanboxers
Rating: PG
Contents or warnings: *None *
Word count: 1731
Summary: On the morning before Christmas, Remus and Sirius go to a Christmas fair.
Notes: Happy holidays,
batmanboxers! This is the first time in a while I've written R/S, and I've missed them a lot, so thank you for having such a lovely prompt ♥ And thank you to
switchbladesis for beta-ing!
For the first time in the six years they’ve known each other, all four Marauders do not spend Christmas at Hogwarts. James’s family has decided to take a holiday to France, and Peter’s parents have insisted that he come home in order to attend the wedding of some distant relative he has never met. That leaves Remus, who decides that the nearly empty castle will be safer than his parents’ busy shop when the new moon arrives halfway between Christmas and the New Year, and Sirius, who had been invited by the Potters on their holiday but who had a compelling reason to politely decline.
Sirius wakes up early Christmas Eve morning. The cold yellow of the winter sun comes in through the stone window opening of the dormitory. He pushes the blanket off of his legs, gets up, and walks over to the bed on the other side of the room. Then Sirius shakes his compelling reason by the shoulders until he, too, is awake.
“Merlin’s sake, Padfoot,” Remus mumbles, turning over so his face is buried in the pillow. “What do you want?”
“It’s the day before Christmas,” Sirius says. He sits down on the edge of Remus’s bed, puts a hand gingerly on the blanket that covers Remus’s side. It’s new, this thing between them, so new that nobody else knows about it except for James and Peter, and Sirius is surprised to find that he doesn’t always know what to do about it. He had sort of thought that their relationship would be pretty much the same as it had always been, just with more snogging, but apparently that isn’t the case. Maybe it’s that he’s never fancied someone who was already a friend before, or maybe it’s that Remus spent so much time not being interested (and Sirius spent so much more time thinking Remus wasn’t interested even when he was) that Sirius sometimes finds himself feeling uncertain. He doesn’t like it.
On the other hand, he does quite like the feel of Remus’s body, warmth soaking through the blanket, shifting under his hand, even if it’s so that he can turn onto his stomach in order to hide his face completely against the pillow.
“Exactly,” Remus replies, voice muffled. “There are no presents the day before Christmas, no feast, and therefore no reason to be awake so early.”
“Au contraire, mon chéri,” Sirius says, in an exaggerated French accent that prompts a laugh from Remus, also muffled, “You haven’t forgotten what we saw the last time we were in Hogsmeade?”
“Christmas fair stalls,” Remus says. He turns over, and Sirius decides that he likes his hand on Remus’s stomach even better than on his back. Sirius curls his fingers, bunching up the blanket and pulling it down, then pushing up the hem of Remus’s shirt and sliding his fingers underneath it. Remus’s eyes go wide and shocked, and Sirius almost pulls his hand back, but then Remus mutters, “Cold.”
Sirius laughs, runs his hand further up Remus’s chest, traces a finger over a thin scar along his rib cage. “Get up, Remus,” he says, “There’d be no point in going to a Christmas fair after Christmas.”
Remus grumbles, but he sits up, and Sirius stands to give Remus room to get out of bed. “That is,” Remus says, walking to the end of the bed to rummage through his trunk for clothes, “If someone hasn’t had a few too many firewhiskeys in the Hogshead and burned the whole thing down.”
“Well, we’ll find out, won’t we,” Sirius says. He digs through his own trunk for clothing, pulling on his robes and gathering up the map and James’s invisibility cloak, left to him for the break. He wrestles a scarf out from under his dress robes, wraps it around his neck, and looks across the room to watch Remus pull on a pair of gloves and tuck his wand into the pocket of his robes. “Ready?” Sirius asks; Remus nods and follows him down the stairs, through the common room, and out the portrait hole, where the Fat Lady waves at them merrily as they leave.
Sirius checks the map in front of a certain mirror, to make sure there is no one around. The closest person is Professor Binns, on the other side of the fourth floor, so he swings the mirror away from the secret staircase down toward a passage leading into Hogsmeade. His hand finds Remus’s as they walk through the passageway, and when they end up in a changing room in Gladrags, Sirius doesn’t let go. They go outside, and as Remus presses into Sirius’s side Sirius can feel him shiver against the cold wind that blows by them and up the main street.
The brightly coloured stalls of the Christmas market catch their eyes, and the boys walk past Scrivenshaft’s, past Dervish & Banges, past Honeydukes until they reach the fabric covered booths of the market. Sirius immediately spots the stall run by the Three Broomsticks, and he pulls Remus in that direction, then lets go of Remus’s hand and buys two pints of hot spiced cider from the wizard at the booth. He passes one to Remus, who wraps his gloved hands around the glass and holds it close to his face, breathing in the warm, sweet-smelling steam.
“Do you want to look around?” Remus asks. Sirius nods, and they walk up the first row of stalls, shoulder to shoulder, close enough to touch. Remus takes a long sip of cider, spills a bit of it down the front of his robes when someone jostles him as they walk by. Sirius shakes his shaggy black hair out of his eyes and leans down to look at a display set up by one of the vendors of snitch-shaped Christmas ornaments, tiny gold wings flapping in the tree.
They finish their drinks and return the empty mugs to the Three Broomsticks’ stall, and this time Remus is the one to take Sirius’s hand, woolen gloves keeping both of them warm as they walk. They go over to a stall piled high with holiday-themed sweets and sample chocolate frogs painted red and green for Christmas. At the next booth over, which is adorned with gear for quidditch fans, Sirius stares at an Appleby Arrows scarf until Remus nudges him in the side with his elbow.
“You’re, er, you’re getting one like that for Christmas,” Remus says, sounding somewhat sheepish.
“From you?” Sirius asks.
“Peter,” Remus replies. “I wouldn’t have told you if it was me.” Sirius barks a laugh, starts to say something about only ruining other peoples’ surprises, and is cut off by Remus’s lips pressing against the corner of his mouth. It’s the first time they’ve kissed in public, apart from the time a few months back when they got too drunk on firewhiskey after Gryffindor beat Slytherin 240 to 90.
Sirius turns to meet Remus’s lips but Remus is already moving away, grabbing Sirius by the hand to lead him down the aisle, between the stalls and back toward the shops. He pulls Sirius into an alleyway between Scrivenshaft’s and Gladrags, and kisses him full on the lips, the hand that isn’t still holding Sirius’s coming up to card through Sirius’s dark hair.
“What’s this?” Sirius asks, between kisses. “You don’t want to be seen with me in public, Moony?”
“Are you bloody—“ Remus says, “I kissed you first over there— Sirius—“
“I’m joking,” Sirius says, chuckling. He puts a hand on Remus’s forehead and tips his head back slightly to kiss him again.
“Alright,” Remus says after a few minutes. “Now we can go back and look at all the nutcracker displays you’d like. I just wanted some time away from the crowd.” Fair enough, Sirius thinks, and more than alright with him. They make their way back to the market area for more spiced cider and cinnamon cookies shaped like Swedish Short-Snout dragons.
It’s night before they finally leave, the stalls lit up with candles that float between the aisles and under the fabric coverings of the booths. They’ve had a snowball fight in the field outside of town, dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, and spent several more hours at the marketplace. Their teeth chatter from the cold nighttime breeze and Sirius thinks to conjure up a flame to keep them warm. Instead, he throws an arm over Remus’s shoulders, and Remus puts an arm around Sirius’s waist. They head back to Gladrags and up through the secret passageway back to the castle.
“Shrivelfig,” Remus tells the Fat Lady, and the portrait hole opens. Once they’re back into the dormitory, they strip off their cold robes—Sirius isn’t so busy changing that he cannot take a moment to sneak a glance over at Remus in his state of undress—and put on warm pajamas. It isn’t very late yet, but with Christmas the next day there’s no reason to stay up.
Sirius is in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how long until Christmas breakfast, when he hears Remus speak. “What was that?” he asks.
“Come ‘ere,” Remus says again, his voice already sounding thick with sleep. Sirius rolls out of bed and goes across the room to Remus’s bed. His eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness to see that Remus has the blanket pulled back and that he has moved over to one side of the bed to make room. The last time they shared a bed, James had come in and made horrified noises about not shagging where other people could be present, even though they were doing nothing of the sort (although James may have had more legitimate cause for horror had he walked in ten minutes earlier). Now there was nobody to appear unexpectedly, so Sirius crawls under the covers with Remus.
There’s hardly enough room for both of them on the small bed, and Sirius has to lie half on the mattress, half on Remus for them to fit. He tucks his face against the juncture of Remus’s neck, and Remus wraps an arm around him, strokes a hand over Sirius’s back.
“Goodnight, Moony,” Sirius mumbles against Remus’s skin. There’s no response, and Sirius can tell from his deep, even breathing that Remus has already fallen asleep. “Merry Christmas,” Sirius adds, and drifts off to sleep beside him.
Author:
Recipient:
Rating: PG
Contents or warnings: *None *
Word count: 1731
Summary: On the morning before Christmas, Remus and Sirius go to a Christmas fair.
Notes: Happy holidays,
For the first time in the six years they’ve known each other, all four Marauders do not spend Christmas at Hogwarts. James’s family has decided to take a holiday to France, and Peter’s parents have insisted that he come home in order to attend the wedding of some distant relative he has never met. That leaves Remus, who decides that the nearly empty castle will be safer than his parents’ busy shop when the new moon arrives halfway between Christmas and the New Year, and Sirius, who had been invited by the Potters on their holiday but who had a compelling reason to politely decline.
Sirius wakes up early Christmas Eve morning. The cold yellow of the winter sun comes in through the stone window opening of the dormitory. He pushes the blanket off of his legs, gets up, and walks over to the bed on the other side of the room. Then Sirius shakes his compelling reason by the shoulders until he, too, is awake.
“Merlin’s sake, Padfoot,” Remus mumbles, turning over so his face is buried in the pillow. “What do you want?”
“It’s the day before Christmas,” Sirius says. He sits down on the edge of Remus’s bed, puts a hand gingerly on the blanket that covers Remus’s side. It’s new, this thing between them, so new that nobody else knows about it except for James and Peter, and Sirius is surprised to find that he doesn’t always know what to do about it. He had sort of thought that their relationship would be pretty much the same as it had always been, just with more snogging, but apparently that isn’t the case. Maybe it’s that he’s never fancied someone who was already a friend before, or maybe it’s that Remus spent so much time not being interested (and Sirius spent so much more time thinking Remus wasn’t interested even when he was) that Sirius sometimes finds himself feeling uncertain. He doesn’t like it.
On the other hand, he does quite like the feel of Remus’s body, warmth soaking through the blanket, shifting under his hand, even if it’s so that he can turn onto his stomach in order to hide his face completely against the pillow.
“Exactly,” Remus replies, voice muffled. “There are no presents the day before Christmas, no feast, and therefore no reason to be awake so early.”
“Au contraire, mon chéri,” Sirius says, in an exaggerated French accent that prompts a laugh from Remus, also muffled, “You haven’t forgotten what we saw the last time we were in Hogsmeade?”
“Christmas fair stalls,” Remus says. He turns over, and Sirius decides that he likes his hand on Remus’s stomach even better than on his back. Sirius curls his fingers, bunching up the blanket and pulling it down, then pushing up the hem of Remus’s shirt and sliding his fingers underneath it. Remus’s eyes go wide and shocked, and Sirius almost pulls his hand back, but then Remus mutters, “Cold.”
Sirius laughs, runs his hand further up Remus’s chest, traces a finger over a thin scar along his rib cage. “Get up, Remus,” he says, “There’d be no point in going to a Christmas fair after Christmas.”
Remus grumbles, but he sits up, and Sirius stands to give Remus room to get out of bed. “That is,” Remus says, walking to the end of the bed to rummage through his trunk for clothes, “If someone hasn’t had a few too many firewhiskeys in the Hogshead and burned the whole thing down.”
“Well, we’ll find out, won’t we,” Sirius says. He digs through his own trunk for clothing, pulling on his robes and gathering up the map and James’s invisibility cloak, left to him for the break. He wrestles a scarf out from under his dress robes, wraps it around his neck, and looks across the room to watch Remus pull on a pair of gloves and tuck his wand into the pocket of his robes. “Ready?” Sirius asks; Remus nods and follows him down the stairs, through the common room, and out the portrait hole, where the Fat Lady waves at them merrily as they leave.
Sirius checks the map in front of a certain mirror, to make sure there is no one around. The closest person is Professor Binns, on the other side of the fourth floor, so he swings the mirror away from the secret staircase down toward a passage leading into Hogsmeade. His hand finds Remus’s as they walk through the passageway, and when they end up in a changing room in Gladrags, Sirius doesn’t let go. They go outside, and as Remus presses into Sirius’s side Sirius can feel him shiver against the cold wind that blows by them and up the main street.
The brightly coloured stalls of the Christmas market catch their eyes, and the boys walk past Scrivenshaft’s, past Dervish & Banges, past Honeydukes until they reach the fabric covered booths of the market. Sirius immediately spots the stall run by the Three Broomsticks, and he pulls Remus in that direction, then lets go of Remus’s hand and buys two pints of hot spiced cider from the wizard at the booth. He passes one to Remus, who wraps his gloved hands around the glass and holds it close to his face, breathing in the warm, sweet-smelling steam.
“Do you want to look around?” Remus asks. Sirius nods, and they walk up the first row of stalls, shoulder to shoulder, close enough to touch. Remus takes a long sip of cider, spills a bit of it down the front of his robes when someone jostles him as they walk by. Sirius shakes his shaggy black hair out of his eyes and leans down to look at a display set up by one of the vendors of snitch-shaped Christmas ornaments, tiny gold wings flapping in the tree.
They finish their drinks and return the empty mugs to the Three Broomsticks’ stall, and this time Remus is the one to take Sirius’s hand, woolen gloves keeping both of them warm as they walk. They go over to a stall piled high with holiday-themed sweets and sample chocolate frogs painted red and green for Christmas. At the next booth over, which is adorned with gear for quidditch fans, Sirius stares at an Appleby Arrows scarf until Remus nudges him in the side with his elbow.
“You’re, er, you’re getting one like that for Christmas,” Remus says, sounding somewhat sheepish.
“From you?” Sirius asks.
“Peter,” Remus replies. “I wouldn’t have told you if it was me.” Sirius barks a laugh, starts to say something about only ruining other peoples’ surprises, and is cut off by Remus’s lips pressing against the corner of his mouth. It’s the first time they’ve kissed in public, apart from the time a few months back when they got too drunk on firewhiskey after Gryffindor beat Slytherin 240 to 90.
Sirius turns to meet Remus’s lips but Remus is already moving away, grabbing Sirius by the hand to lead him down the aisle, between the stalls and back toward the shops. He pulls Sirius into an alleyway between Scrivenshaft’s and Gladrags, and kisses him full on the lips, the hand that isn’t still holding Sirius’s coming up to card through Sirius’s dark hair.
“What’s this?” Sirius asks, between kisses. “You don’t want to be seen with me in public, Moony?”
“Are you bloody—“ Remus says, “I kissed you first over there— Sirius—“
“I’m joking,” Sirius says, chuckling. He puts a hand on Remus’s forehead and tips his head back slightly to kiss him again.
“Alright,” Remus says after a few minutes. “Now we can go back and look at all the nutcracker displays you’d like. I just wanted some time away from the crowd.” Fair enough, Sirius thinks, and more than alright with him. They make their way back to the market area for more spiced cider and cinnamon cookies shaped like Swedish Short-Snout dragons.
It’s night before they finally leave, the stalls lit up with candles that float between the aisles and under the fabric coverings of the booths. They’ve had a snowball fight in the field outside of town, dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, and spent several more hours at the marketplace. Their teeth chatter from the cold nighttime breeze and Sirius thinks to conjure up a flame to keep them warm. Instead, he throws an arm over Remus’s shoulders, and Remus puts an arm around Sirius’s waist. They head back to Gladrags and up through the secret passageway back to the castle.
“Shrivelfig,” Remus tells the Fat Lady, and the portrait hole opens. Once they’re back into the dormitory, they strip off their cold robes—Sirius isn’t so busy changing that he cannot take a moment to sneak a glance over at Remus in his state of undress—and put on warm pajamas. It isn’t very late yet, but with Christmas the next day there’s no reason to stay up.
Sirius is in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how long until Christmas breakfast, when he hears Remus speak. “What was that?” he asks.
“Come ‘ere,” Remus says again, his voice already sounding thick with sleep. Sirius rolls out of bed and goes across the room to Remus’s bed. His eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness to see that Remus has the blanket pulled back and that he has moved over to one side of the bed to make room. The last time they shared a bed, James had come in and made horrified noises about not shagging where other people could be present, even though they were doing nothing of the sort (although James may have had more legitimate cause for horror had he walked in ten minutes earlier). Now there was nobody to appear unexpectedly, so Sirius crawls under the covers with Remus.
There’s hardly enough room for both of them on the small bed, and Sirius has to lie half on the mattress, half on Remus for them to fit. He tucks his face against the juncture of Remus’s neck, and Remus wraps an arm around him, strokes a hand over Sirius’s back.
“Goodnight, Moony,” Sirius mumbles against Remus’s skin. There’s no response, and Sirius can tell from his deep, even breathing that Remus has already fallen asleep. “Merry Christmas,” Sirius adds, and drifts off to sleep beside him.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 04:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-19 08:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 05:32 pm (UTC)High five and Merry Christmas!! ~*~
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Date: 2011-12-19 08:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 08:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-19 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 08:43 pm (UTC)But it was more than just beautiful. I loved the way you subtly developed their relationship. Taking Sirius from this: It’s new, this thing between them, so new that nobody else knows about it except for James and Peter, and Sirius is surprised to find that he doesn’t always know what to do about it. He had sort of thought that their relationship would be pretty much the same as it had always been, just with more snogging, but apparently that isn’t the case. Maybe it’s that he’s never fancied someone who was already a friend before, or maybe it’s that Remus spent so much time not being interested (and Sirius spent so much more time thinking Remus wasn’t interested even when he was) that Sirius sometimes finds himself feeling uncertain. He doesn’t like it. to that lovely kiss at the market to finally sleeping beside Remus was really darling and felt very real.
Nice job!
no subject
Date: 2011-12-19 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 11:09 pm (UTC)Lovely. :) I really enjoyed your writing - it's evocative without going over the top. And I love the idea of them enjoying a Christmas together like this.
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Date: 2011-12-19 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2011-12-19 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-14 06:55 am (UTC)“What’s this?” Sirius asks, between kisses. “You don’t want to be seen with me in public, Moony?”
“Are you bloody—“ Remus says, “I kissed you first over there— Sirius—“
Because it's such a great combination of teasing, exasperation, and cuteness -- which overall = endearing
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Date: 2011-12-19 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2011-12-20 04:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-20 08:43 pm (UTC)This warmed my frost-bitten heart ma'am, so thank you so much. I adored it.
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Date: 2011-12-23 06:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-12 07:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-15 08:57 pm (UTC)