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small_giftsTitle: In Defiance of the Winds That Blow
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
inksheddings
Recipient:lyras
Rating: G
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *None *
Word count: 1056
Summary: The lengthening stretches of time that Sirius spent in this room were followed by even longer stretches of time spent by Remus coaxing him out again.
Notes:lyras, I hope you enjoy. Thanks to whymzycal and midnitemaraud_r for the betas. Title shamelessly stolen from Blues Traveler's "Christmas," which makes this the second time I've used the song's lyrics for a fic. Oops?
It was quiet at 12 Grimmauld Place on Christmas morning. If you could call it morning—the sun was nowhere near ready to rise at half-past three, but Remus was awake nonetheless. He'd been awake for over an hour now, despite having gone to bed only three hours before that. This house was always full; of people and memories, past and present. There was always someone—or something—that needed attending to and it was hard for Remus to simply turn himself off at the end of a day.
"Ah, well, nothing for it then," he said to himself as he climbed out from under the warm blankets and pulled his dressing gown on over his pajamas. He shivered at the feel of the cold floor underneath his bare feet.
"Socks would help, you know."
Remus paused on his way to the bedroom door. "So would sleep," he replied to Sirius, who had propped himself up on his elbows and was watching Remus with a half-smile on his face. "But I'll settle for a hot cup of tea. Sorry to wake you."
Sirius waved off his concern before yawning hugely into the same hand. "Just make an extra cuppa for me and we'll call it even." He collapsed back onto the bed and pulled the covers up tightly around his neck and shoulders.
Remus smiled. "All right, then," he said and went out the door and down to the kitchen. He quickly regretted not hunting down a pair of socks or even just slipping his shoes on before making the trek, because it was even colder outside of their room. No matter, because ten minutes later Remus carefully navigated the way back upstairs, carrying a tray with a small pot of near-boiling tea, milk, sugar, and a few iced biscuits and slices of spice cake that Molly had made. It might have been overkill—Remus expected he'd push open the door and find Sirius fast asleep again. Still, on the off chance they'd be able to share any amount of quiet time together before the hectic day to come … it would be nice, anyway.
Remus managed to open the door without dropping the tray or making a lot of racket out of teaspoons against teacups to find Sirius out of bed but still wrapped up in the blankets. He was sitting on the windowsill of the now wide-open window, letting in all the cold night air. "Well, at least you're wearing socks," Remus said as he placed the tray on the floor next to the window sill. "I, on the other hand—"
Sirius opened his arms wide, giving the blankets the appearance of wings—one light, illuminated by the moon and the streetlamps; the other dark, gradually losing its shape to the blackness of the rest of the room—and Remus laughed, glad he'd made the tea extra hot because it was doubtful they'd get to it terribly soon. He sat down on the windowsill and leaned back, and Sirius enclosed the both of them in the warmth of the blankets and his body.
Sirius nuzzled his face against Remus' neck. "Anyone else about at this unseemly hour?" he asked after several minutes passed. Occasional kisses now accompanied the continued nuzzling, warming Remus nearly as much as the thought of tea.
"Hmm, not that I noticed. I was half-surprised not to find Molly in the kitchen, preparing … whatever she plans on preparing." Whatever Molly would be providing for Christmas Day sustenance, it would be delicious. His stomach rumbled slightly in agreement, and it was tempting to break away momentarily from his Sirius cocoon to grab one of the cookies from the tray on the floor. As if reading his thoughts, Sirius tightened his arms around Remus' waist. The cookies could wait. The tea, however, was likely still hot enough to be palatable, though not for much longer, not with the window wide open. Before he could say anything about altering their seating arrangements, Sirius spoke.
"Could we just...stay here? I mean, in this room? Tomorrow. Could we just ..."
Sirius' words trailed off, and his grip around Remus loosened. Remus no longer had any desire for tea or biscuits or spice cake.
Remus didn't say anything right away, just took hold of Sirius' hands and pulled them tight again. He understood the desire to hide all too well. Since returning to Grimmauld Place, the only times Sirius seemed to find any sort of peace was when the two of them could lock themselves away for bits and pieces of each day. When Sirius ventured out it was always to arguments with Molly—many of which Sirius should (but didn't) take responsibility for—and the desire to complete years' worth of tasks in as short a time as possible, as if to make up for all the precious years lost to Azkaban and its Dementors. But the lengthening stretches of time that Sirius spent in this room were followed by even longer stretches of time spent by Remus coaxing him out again.
Remus turned enough to see Sirius' face. "Harry will expect to see you around the fire, next to the tree. He'll want to learn what bad jokes you tell after too much eggnog and how that very eggnog gives you indigestion at the most inopportune moments. He'll much prefer receiving his present from you, his favorite godfather, whilst sitting among friends and family." He hoped the relative lightness of his words would help make his point painlessly.
"Favorite godfather? Are you saying that he has another?" Sirius asked, smiling, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. Still, it was a good effort, and one that told Remus that perhaps he'd indeed need to coax Sirius down the stairs, but down he would go, Harry's present in one hand and Remus' in the other.
"Come on," Remus said, patting Sirius' hand. "The tea is going to be as cold as my feet if we don't drink it right now, this very instant."
"Well, we can't have that." Sirius gave Remus a playful shove, and they both nearly went down with the bundle of blankets.
They closed the window but remained sitting on the sill, Remus' feet now in Sirius' lap. They didn't get any more sleep, but they greeted Christmas morning with just-hot-enough tea, iced biscuits, and anticipation that, for a change, felt akin to hope.
end
Author/Artist:
inksheddingsRecipient:
lyrasRating: G
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *None *
Word count: 1056
Summary: The lengthening stretches of time that Sirius spent in this room were followed by even longer stretches of time spent by Remus coaxing him out again.
Notes:
lyras, I hope you enjoy. Thanks to whymzycal and midnitemaraud_r for the betas. Title shamelessly stolen from Blues Traveler's "Christmas," which makes this the second time I've used the song's lyrics for a fic. Oops?It was quiet at 12 Grimmauld Place on Christmas morning. If you could call it morning—the sun was nowhere near ready to rise at half-past three, but Remus was awake nonetheless. He'd been awake for over an hour now, despite having gone to bed only three hours before that. This house was always full; of people and memories, past and present. There was always someone—or something—that needed attending to and it was hard for Remus to simply turn himself off at the end of a day.
"Ah, well, nothing for it then," he said to himself as he climbed out from under the warm blankets and pulled his dressing gown on over his pajamas. He shivered at the feel of the cold floor underneath his bare feet.
"Socks would help, you know."
Remus paused on his way to the bedroom door. "So would sleep," he replied to Sirius, who had propped himself up on his elbows and was watching Remus with a half-smile on his face. "But I'll settle for a hot cup of tea. Sorry to wake you."
Sirius waved off his concern before yawning hugely into the same hand. "Just make an extra cuppa for me and we'll call it even." He collapsed back onto the bed and pulled the covers up tightly around his neck and shoulders.
Remus smiled. "All right, then," he said and went out the door and down to the kitchen. He quickly regretted not hunting down a pair of socks or even just slipping his shoes on before making the trek, because it was even colder outside of their room. No matter, because ten minutes later Remus carefully navigated the way back upstairs, carrying a tray with a small pot of near-boiling tea, milk, sugar, and a few iced biscuits and slices of spice cake that Molly had made. It might have been overkill—Remus expected he'd push open the door and find Sirius fast asleep again. Still, on the off chance they'd be able to share any amount of quiet time together before the hectic day to come … it would be nice, anyway.
Remus managed to open the door without dropping the tray or making a lot of racket out of teaspoons against teacups to find Sirius out of bed but still wrapped up in the blankets. He was sitting on the windowsill of the now wide-open window, letting in all the cold night air. "Well, at least you're wearing socks," Remus said as he placed the tray on the floor next to the window sill. "I, on the other hand—"
Sirius opened his arms wide, giving the blankets the appearance of wings—one light, illuminated by the moon and the streetlamps; the other dark, gradually losing its shape to the blackness of the rest of the room—and Remus laughed, glad he'd made the tea extra hot because it was doubtful they'd get to it terribly soon. He sat down on the windowsill and leaned back, and Sirius enclosed the both of them in the warmth of the blankets and his body.
Sirius nuzzled his face against Remus' neck. "Anyone else about at this unseemly hour?" he asked after several minutes passed. Occasional kisses now accompanied the continued nuzzling, warming Remus nearly as much as the thought of tea.
"Hmm, not that I noticed. I was half-surprised not to find Molly in the kitchen, preparing … whatever she plans on preparing." Whatever Molly would be providing for Christmas Day sustenance, it would be delicious. His stomach rumbled slightly in agreement, and it was tempting to break away momentarily from his Sirius cocoon to grab one of the cookies from the tray on the floor. As if reading his thoughts, Sirius tightened his arms around Remus' waist. The cookies could wait. The tea, however, was likely still hot enough to be palatable, though not for much longer, not with the window wide open. Before he could say anything about altering their seating arrangements, Sirius spoke.
"Could we just...stay here? I mean, in this room? Tomorrow. Could we just ..."
Sirius' words trailed off, and his grip around Remus loosened. Remus no longer had any desire for tea or biscuits or spice cake.
Remus didn't say anything right away, just took hold of Sirius' hands and pulled them tight again. He understood the desire to hide all too well. Since returning to Grimmauld Place, the only times Sirius seemed to find any sort of peace was when the two of them could lock themselves away for bits and pieces of each day. When Sirius ventured out it was always to arguments with Molly—many of which Sirius should (but didn't) take responsibility for—and the desire to complete years' worth of tasks in as short a time as possible, as if to make up for all the precious years lost to Azkaban and its Dementors. But the lengthening stretches of time that Sirius spent in this room were followed by even longer stretches of time spent by Remus coaxing him out again.
Remus turned enough to see Sirius' face. "Harry will expect to see you around the fire, next to the tree. He'll want to learn what bad jokes you tell after too much eggnog and how that very eggnog gives you indigestion at the most inopportune moments. He'll much prefer receiving his present from you, his favorite godfather, whilst sitting among friends and family." He hoped the relative lightness of his words would help make his point painlessly.
"Favorite godfather? Are you saying that he has another?" Sirius asked, smiling, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. Still, it was a good effort, and one that told Remus that perhaps he'd indeed need to coax Sirius down the stairs, but down he would go, Harry's present in one hand and Remus' in the other.
"Come on," Remus said, patting Sirius' hand. "The tea is going to be as cold as my feet if we don't drink it right now, this very instant."
"Well, we can't have that." Sirius gave Remus a playful shove, and they both nearly went down with the bundle of blankets.
They closed the window but remained sitting on the sill, Remus' feet now in Sirius' lap. They didn't get any more sleep, but they greeted Christmas morning with just-hot-enough tea, iced biscuits, and anticipation that, for a change, felt akin to hope.
end
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