Fic: Home for the Holidays for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
adistantsun
Nov. 24th, 2012 10:15 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
laroseminuit.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
small_giftsTitle: Home for the Holidays
Author:laroseminuit
Recipient:adistantsun
Rating:PG
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *none *
Word count: 2564
Summary: When Dumbledore told Sirius to lie low at Lupin’s, he didn’t know that Sirius was already a resident there.
Notes: I’ve taken a lot of liberty with timelines and attempted to sidestep some of the angstier parts of canon – feel free to interpret this as you like. I have stolen Remus’s second to last words before the epilogue nearly verbatim from a letter Vita Sackville-West wrote to Virginia Woolf. I hope you like this, adistantsun. I had fun writing it. Sorry I couldn’t manage to make it a podfic … I tried but I really lack the proper equipment. Thanks to fullmoon_dreams for beta’ing this for me.
The house was dusted; the front steps were swept clean of snow. A pot of mutton stew simmered gently on the hob. There was an attempt at holiday festivity evident in the tiny entryway and the well-worn sitting room – a few sprigs of holly and ivy tacked up along the mantle, a small neat tree draped with fairy lights, and neat white candles in the windows, burning cheerfully. Overall, though, thought Remus, looking around at the faded wool rug, the old lumpy sofa, and the aged wallpaper, the room felt lonely. No amount of holiday bric-a-brac could change that. The empty room was full of echoes from a happier time, and its silence was heavy. He walked over to his gramophone and set the needle to a record. The horn of the machine began to spill forth the warm tones of Bing Crosby’s voice, underlain with the soft crackling of the imperfect recording that the Wizard Wireless could never replicate. Now there was nothing left to do but wait for his guest to arrive, and hope that perhaps there would not be too many empty silences in the coming days.
He had invited Sirius to come stay with him for the holidays. The man had attempted to decline, announcing his plan to camp out in a cave outside of Hogsmeade in order to better keep an eye on Harry. Remus had sighed internally, in exasperation but also fondness – Azkaban had made Sirius many things, but it certainly hadn’t changed his planning skills. Remus had reminded Sirius that, as a wizard, he could be as quickly to Harry’s side from Lupin’s farmhouse in Betws y Coed as from Hogsmeade, unless his plan was to stay by Harry’s side all hours of the day and night. Alarmingly, Sirius had appeared to consider this idea, but Remus was able to remind him of the trouble he’d gotten Remus into in seventh year, when he pretended to be Remus’s dog for an entire day. “Cats, toads, and owls, Sirius,” he’d said firmly. “No dogs.” Sirius had gotten that faraway look on his face that he had frequently, these days, the one that meant he was remembering something that had been buried deep during his days on that frozen island. Buried, but not forgotten, thought Remus, which was a comfort to him. His friend was a little bit broken, but with time, perhaps he’d heal. That is, if this new war didn’t kill them all first.
Remus shook his head slightly, to clear these too grim thoughts from his mind, and moved to the kitchen to put on the kettle. He might as well make tea while he waited.
Sirius had accepted his offer and agreed to come on Christmas Eve and stay until Twelfth Night, at least. Remus secretly hoped to convince him to stay for the rest of the winter. It was too cold to be camping in caves in Scotland, and Sirius was doing himself more harm than good. Remus had rehearsed several good arguments about peak physical shape, the ability to work together, and reliable access to information about current events, as well as the relative safety of his small, remote, non-magical village. He was ready to bring them out, if it proved necessary. But part of Remus suspected that once he got Sirius inside a warm house with regular meals, he wouldn’t be so ready to kip out in caves in January.
There was a tentative scratching at the kitchen door. Remus glanced at it. The noise came again, so he stepped around the wooden kitchen table and unlatched the door. Drawing it open, he saw the back fields, covered in a light blanket of snow not even deep enough to cover the taller patches of meadow grass, and the dark woods and mountains of Snowdonia National Park beyond. Then he looked down and saw a patchy, rail-thin black dog, sitting on the flagstone stoop, ears perked up and tongue lolling.
Remus rolled his eyes – his was the only house for miles and there wasn’t a soul in sight – and stepped aside. “Come on in, Padfoot.”
The dog trotted into the kitchen and became a rail-thin man in a patchy black robe, with black hair all askew – had he cut it himself? In the dark? With nail scissors? – and a cautious smile on his cold-pinked face. “Hallo, Moony.”
Sirius didn’t have any belongings to stow, but Remus clucked at the state of his robe and sent him immediately to the tiny first floor bathroom, trading him his grungy clothes for a stack of soft towels. He took the dirty robe to the little alcove where his Nana McQuillen Better-than-House-Elves Patented Magical Laundry Machine sat atop his mother’s old Rolls Electromatic washing machine. He smiled at it – she had refused to allow her husband to use magic to do the laundry, but he had allowed him to power the device with magic. Remus, on the other hand, did not quite have the patience to wash his clothes the muggle way. He set Sirius’s robe in the basket of the magical device, closed the lid, and tapped his wand to the square labeled ‘heavy duty.’ The device began to hum gently. Remus picked up one of his own clean robes from a neatly folded pile next to the washer and carried it back to the bathroom. He knocked lightly on the door and listened. He could hear water running and Sirius’s off-key singing. He was singing I’ll Be Home for Christmas. Remus smiled and opened the door a crack.
“Here’s a fresh robe to wear while yours is washing.” Remus called over the noise of the water. Sirius shouted his thanks and Remus closed the door again, but not before he heard Sirius begin singing again, this time singing Jingle Bells – the version he and James had written in fifth year, which, while not exactly appropriate, was extremely jolly. Remus’s grin widened.
When Sirius emerged from the bathroom, rolling up the sleeves of Remus’s spare robe as he walked, Remus was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea. Sirius sprawled into the chair next to him, sniffing the air.
“Is that Darjeeling?” he asked. Remus nodded and poured him a cup.
“Are you hungry? I’ve made stew. I know it’s not much for Christmas Eve supper, but I’ve got a nice goose in the icebox for dinner tomorrow. And Mrs. Pritchard down the road dropped off a pie this morning, so we’ve that as well.
“Stew’s wonderful, Remus.” He rose, waving at Remus as he began to stand. “No, no, I’ve got it. Bowls are still in the left cabinet?”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “How do you remember that?”
Sirius shrugged. “It’s where you kept them in our flat, too.” He frowned as he ladled stew into bowls. “I’m sorry to bring up that time. What I remember … it wasn’t so good.” He brought the bowls to the table. He’d found the spoons unassisted as well, in the drawer under the neat row of biscuit and tea tins.
He let Sirius eat a few bites, and had one himself, before saying, “It wasn’t all bad, you know. Perhaps you’re only remembering the worst bits, near the end. We were quite happy at first. Or at least, I was.”
Sirius looked at him, worried. “I was happy, too, Remus. Azbakan took a lot of the feeling away… when I was there, I could remember being happy, but not what happy felt like … and after a while it was easier to just not think about happiness at all … but my happiest memories, the ones I guarded the most jealously from the dementors … those were of you. Always you.” He reached out his hand. Remus took it, and that’s how they finished supper – hand in hand.
After dinner, they moved to the sitting room. Remus changed the record to Ella Fitzgerald and brought out his muggle grandfather’s chess board. Sirius had been fascinated with it as a young man.
“Fancy a game?” Remus asked. Sirius was standing by the window, peering through the small brass telescope at the night sky.
“Do you remember third year astronomy?” he asked, fiddling with the dials.
“In general, or are you asking about something specific?” Remus asked, setting down the chess board.
“We were studying Saturn, and Professor Whats-his-name mentioned that Saturn would be in opposition, just before dawn on the day before Christmas Eve.”
“Hu.” replied Remus.
“Who what?” Sirius looked at him, confused.
“Professor Hu Tianxing taught Astronomy that year.” Remus explained.
“Oh.” Sirius looked back at the sky, this time with his naked eye. “Well, do you remember? We snuck up to the astronomy tower that morning to see. It was so bright, and you could see the rings so clearly. I wanted to kiss you. But I was too scared.”
“Also James and Peter were there, so that might have been awkward.”
“They were? I don’t remember them.” Sirius furrowed his brow.
“Well, clearly your mind wasn’t on them.” He nodded at the telescope. “And tonight? Can you see Saturn?”
Sirius shook his head. “Not clearly. You can’t really make out the rings. Perhaps at Easter.” He looked one last time at the stars, then turned to Remus. “So, chess?”
They played four games, each winning twice, before the balance of conversation to yawning shifted in favor of sleep. Remus carefully stowed away the board before leading Sirius up the creaking stairs to the bedroom.
“I’m sorry, I’ve turned my old bedroom into an office and I’m afraid I haven’t got a guest bedroom. I don’t really have a lot of company.” He opened the door to his room and Sirius peered in. His eyes swept over the narrow bed, the small chest of drawers, and the black iron radiator, hissing in the corner, before coming to rest on the object occupying most of the floor.
“I remember this,” Sirius said suddenly. “I remember,” he said again, slowly, his voice low and wondering. “It was… our sixth year. Christmas hols. You told your Mum I had nowhere to go and she insisted I come stay at yours. She sent me eight owls.”
“Nine,” Remus corrected quietly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “And a howler. But a nice one.”
Sirius was smiling more, his eyes losing focus as he watched the memory play out in his mind. “It snowed all the way there and stopped just when we arrived. Your father picked us up in that beat up old Range Rover. We spent the last of the light trampling around the sheep pastures on snowshoes. You had your camera – the one my Uncle gave you for Christmas fifth year.”
Remus chuckled. “I still have the picture of you I took that day, somewhere. Or really, the picture of your skinny legs and feet sticking out of a snowbank, snowshoes flailing.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know there was a stone wall there?” Sirius huffed. “And… and then it got truly dark and your Mum called us in and crammed us full of lamb sausage and potatoes and then we went to the sitting room. Your Mum sang and I played the old piano, and your father enchanted the coals in the fire to act out scenes from A Winter’s Tale and you and he did the voices. Then your father went into the attic and levitated down a dusty, lumpy monstrosity that smelled like a pile of moldy mud boots.”
Remus pulled his thoughts back from the family piano – the piano that no one had played since his Mum’s death nearly a decade previously – and frowned. “Monstrosity?” he asked, but Sirius was caught up in the memory and was still speaking.
“He unfolded it and inflated it on your bedroom floor. There was barely enough space left to inch around it. Your Mum made it up with soft flannel sheets and thick wool blankets and then they left us to hunker down for the night.” He stopped. They were silent for a moment, both looking at the lilo. Sirius bit his lip and furrowed his brow. “I don’t really remember sleeping on it, though.”
Remus closed his eyes and made a humming noise. “You didn’t. We messed it up enough to fool my parents and then we slept together in my bed.
Sirius looked down again at the antique rubber and canvas mat lying on the floor exuding a scent of attic and age and long-forgotten rainy camping trips.
“Well, I’m sure it’s … very comfortable.”
“We could try transfiguring my desk into a bed, if you’d like. It probably won’t revert on you in the middle of the night.”
“I still think James did that on purpose.” Sirius muttered. “No, this is fine, Moony. Really, after sleeping on a stone floor for twelve years, anything else is wonderful.”
Remus found a set of spare flannel pajamas in his bureau and in short turn they were slipping between the sheets of their respective beds. Remus extinguished the lights with his wand and they lay silent in the darkness.
Remus found himself listening to Sirius’s breathing. It was deep and even, but Remus could tell he was still awake.
“Moony?” Sirius said quietly, after half an hour or so had passed.
“Yes?” Remus replied softly.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Are you cold? Would you like another blanket?”
“Would you … would you come sleep down here with me?” Sirius sounded almost afraid, as if he thought Remus would refuse. In answer, Remus slipped out of his bed and crawled carefully onto the lilo. It creaked and slumped a little, but eventually Remus was in, rolled tight against Sirius as the mattress stubbornly refused to stay fully inflated.
Sirius pressed his face against Remus’s shoulder. Remus put his arm around Sirius.
“I missed you,” said Remus quietly. “When you were gone. Even when I thought you’d betrayed James. I missed you in a quite simply desperate way. It was incredible how essential to me you had become.”
“I love you, Remus. I never stopped loving you. Even at my worst – I never stopped.”
“Always, Sirius. Always.” Remus pressed a small kiss to Sirius’s neck. “Now go to sleep. It’s nearly Christmas.”
Epilogue: Ten Years Later
“Pst. Padfoot … Padfoot? Are you awake? My feet are cold.”
“Well, if you weren’t so bloody tall, they wouldn’t stick out of the bed and freeze, would they?”
“They don’t stick out when I’m in my bed. This is not my bed.”
“No, but it is tradition.”
“It’s a stupid tradition. It’s James-level idiocy.”
“Oi. That’s our friend you’re insulting.”
“Could we please move to the bed?”
“I slept on a stone floor for 13 years…”
“So you really deserve to sleep in a nice soft bed for the rest of time.”
“I like the lilo. It keeps us close to each other.”
“What?”
“You can’t roll away from me. I can keep you in my arms.”
“You… sentimental … puppy.” Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius.
“So we’re not moving?”
“No.”
“What about your feet?”
In answer, Remus slid his feet up and under the leg of Sirius’s pajamas. He yelped.
“Merlin’s balls! Are you made of ice?!” he cried.
“Not with you keeping me warm.”
“Always.”
The End
Author:
laroseminuitRecipient:
adistantsunRating:PG
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *none *
Word count: 2564
Summary: When Dumbledore told Sirius to lie low at Lupin’s, he didn’t know that Sirius was already a resident there.
Notes: I’ve taken a lot of liberty with timelines and attempted to sidestep some of the angstier parts of canon – feel free to interpret this as you like. I have stolen Remus’s second to last words before the epilogue nearly verbatim from a letter Vita Sackville-West wrote to Virginia Woolf. I hope you like this, adistantsun. I had fun writing it. Sorry I couldn’t manage to make it a podfic … I tried but I really lack the proper equipment. Thanks to fullmoon_dreams for beta’ing this for me.
The house was dusted; the front steps were swept clean of snow. A pot of mutton stew simmered gently on the hob. There was an attempt at holiday festivity evident in the tiny entryway and the well-worn sitting room – a few sprigs of holly and ivy tacked up along the mantle, a small neat tree draped with fairy lights, and neat white candles in the windows, burning cheerfully. Overall, though, thought Remus, looking around at the faded wool rug, the old lumpy sofa, and the aged wallpaper, the room felt lonely. No amount of holiday bric-a-brac could change that. The empty room was full of echoes from a happier time, and its silence was heavy. He walked over to his gramophone and set the needle to a record. The horn of the machine began to spill forth the warm tones of Bing Crosby’s voice, underlain with the soft crackling of the imperfect recording that the Wizard Wireless could never replicate. Now there was nothing left to do but wait for his guest to arrive, and hope that perhaps there would not be too many empty silences in the coming days.
He had invited Sirius to come stay with him for the holidays. The man had attempted to decline, announcing his plan to camp out in a cave outside of Hogsmeade in order to better keep an eye on Harry. Remus had sighed internally, in exasperation but also fondness – Azkaban had made Sirius many things, but it certainly hadn’t changed his planning skills. Remus had reminded Sirius that, as a wizard, he could be as quickly to Harry’s side from Lupin’s farmhouse in Betws y Coed as from Hogsmeade, unless his plan was to stay by Harry’s side all hours of the day and night. Alarmingly, Sirius had appeared to consider this idea, but Remus was able to remind him of the trouble he’d gotten Remus into in seventh year, when he pretended to be Remus’s dog for an entire day. “Cats, toads, and owls, Sirius,” he’d said firmly. “No dogs.” Sirius had gotten that faraway look on his face that he had frequently, these days, the one that meant he was remembering something that had been buried deep during his days on that frozen island. Buried, but not forgotten, thought Remus, which was a comfort to him. His friend was a little bit broken, but with time, perhaps he’d heal. That is, if this new war didn’t kill them all first.
Remus shook his head slightly, to clear these too grim thoughts from his mind, and moved to the kitchen to put on the kettle. He might as well make tea while he waited.
Sirius had accepted his offer and agreed to come on Christmas Eve and stay until Twelfth Night, at least. Remus secretly hoped to convince him to stay for the rest of the winter. It was too cold to be camping in caves in Scotland, and Sirius was doing himself more harm than good. Remus had rehearsed several good arguments about peak physical shape, the ability to work together, and reliable access to information about current events, as well as the relative safety of his small, remote, non-magical village. He was ready to bring them out, if it proved necessary. But part of Remus suspected that once he got Sirius inside a warm house with regular meals, he wouldn’t be so ready to kip out in caves in January.
There was a tentative scratching at the kitchen door. Remus glanced at it. The noise came again, so he stepped around the wooden kitchen table and unlatched the door. Drawing it open, he saw the back fields, covered in a light blanket of snow not even deep enough to cover the taller patches of meadow grass, and the dark woods and mountains of Snowdonia National Park beyond. Then he looked down and saw a patchy, rail-thin black dog, sitting on the flagstone stoop, ears perked up and tongue lolling.
Remus rolled his eyes – his was the only house for miles and there wasn’t a soul in sight – and stepped aside. “Come on in, Padfoot.”
The dog trotted into the kitchen and became a rail-thin man in a patchy black robe, with black hair all askew – had he cut it himself? In the dark? With nail scissors? – and a cautious smile on his cold-pinked face. “Hallo, Moony.”
Sirius didn’t have any belongings to stow, but Remus clucked at the state of his robe and sent him immediately to the tiny first floor bathroom, trading him his grungy clothes for a stack of soft towels. He took the dirty robe to the little alcove where his Nana McQuillen Better-than-House-Elves Patented Magical Laundry Machine sat atop his mother’s old Rolls Electromatic washing machine. He smiled at it – she had refused to allow her husband to use magic to do the laundry, but he had allowed him to power the device with magic. Remus, on the other hand, did not quite have the patience to wash his clothes the muggle way. He set Sirius’s robe in the basket of the magical device, closed the lid, and tapped his wand to the square labeled ‘heavy duty.’ The device began to hum gently. Remus picked up one of his own clean robes from a neatly folded pile next to the washer and carried it back to the bathroom. He knocked lightly on the door and listened. He could hear water running and Sirius’s off-key singing. He was singing I’ll Be Home for Christmas. Remus smiled and opened the door a crack.
“Here’s a fresh robe to wear while yours is washing.” Remus called over the noise of the water. Sirius shouted his thanks and Remus closed the door again, but not before he heard Sirius begin singing again, this time singing Jingle Bells – the version he and James had written in fifth year, which, while not exactly appropriate, was extremely jolly. Remus’s grin widened.
When Sirius emerged from the bathroom, rolling up the sleeves of Remus’s spare robe as he walked, Remus was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea. Sirius sprawled into the chair next to him, sniffing the air.
“Is that Darjeeling?” he asked. Remus nodded and poured him a cup.
“Are you hungry? I’ve made stew. I know it’s not much for Christmas Eve supper, but I’ve got a nice goose in the icebox for dinner tomorrow. And Mrs. Pritchard down the road dropped off a pie this morning, so we’ve that as well.
“Stew’s wonderful, Remus.” He rose, waving at Remus as he began to stand. “No, no, I’ve got it. Bowls are still in the left cabinet?”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “How do you remember that?”
Sirius shrugged. “It’s where you kept them in our flat, too.” He frowned as he ladled stew into bowls. “I’m sorry to bring up that time. What I remember … it wasn’t so good.” He brought the bowls to the table. He’d found the spoons unassisted as well, in the drawer under the neat row of biscuit and tea tins.
He let Sirius eat a few bites, and had one himself, before saying, “It wasn’t all bad, you know. Perhaps you’re only remembering the worst bits, near the end. We were quite happy at first. Or at least, I was.”
Sirius looked at him, worried. “I was happy, too, Remus. Azbakan took a lot of the feeling away… when I was there, I could remember being happy, but not what happy felt like … and after a while it was easier to just not think about happiness at all … but my happiest memories, the ones I guarded the most jealously from the dementors … those were of you. Always you.” He reached out his hand. Remus took it, and that’s how they finished supper – hand in hand.
After dinner, they moved to the sitting room. Remus changed the record to Ella Fitzgerald and brought out his muggle grandfather’s chess board. Sirius had been fascinated with it as a young man.
“Fancy a game?” Remus asked. Sirius was standing by the window, peering through the small brass telescope at the night sky.
“Do you remember third year astronomy?” he asked, fiddling with the dials.
“In general, or are you asking about something specific?” Remus asked, setting down the chess board.
“We were studying Saturn, and Professor Whats-his-name mentioned that Saturn would be in opposition, just before dawn on the day before Christmas Eve.”
“Hu.” replied Remus.
“Who what?” Sirius looked at him, confused.
“Professor Hu Tianxing taught Astronomy that year.” Remus explained.
“Oh.” Sirius looked back at the sky, this time with his naked eye. “Well, do you remember? We snuck up to the astronomy tower that morning to see. It was so bright, and you could see the rings so clearly. I wanted to kiss you. But I was too scared.”
“Also James and Peter were there, so that might have been awkward.”
“They were? I don’t remember them.” Sirius furrowed his brow.
“Well, clearly your mind wasn’t on them.” He nodded at the telescope. “And tonight? Can you see Saturn?”
Sirius shook his head. “Not clearly. You can’t really make out the rings. Perhaps at Easter.” He looked one last time at the stars, then turned to Remus. “So, chess?”
They played four games, each winning twice, before the balance of conversation to yawning shifted in favor of sleep. Remus carefully stowed away the board before leading Sirius up the creaking stairs to the bedroom.
“I’m sorry, I’ve turned my old bedroom into an office and I’m afraid I haven’t got a guest bedroom. I don’t really have a lot of company.” He opened the door to his room and Sirius peered in. His eyes swept over the narrow bed, the small chest of drawers, and the black iron radiator, hissing in the corner, before coming to rest on the object occupying most of the floor.
“I remember this,” Sirius said suddenly. “I remember,” he said again, slowly, his voice low and wondering. “It was… our sixth year. Christmas hols. You told your Mum I had nowhere to go and she insisted I come stay at yours. She sent me eight owls.”
“Nine,” Remus corrected quietly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “And a howler. But a nice one.”
Sirius was smiling more, his eyes losing focus as he watched the memory play out in his mind. “It snowed all the way there and stopped just when we arrived. Your father picked us up in that beat up old Range Rover. We spent the last of the light trampling around the sheep pastures on snowshoes. You had your camera – the one my Uncle gave you for Christmas fifth year.”
Remus chuckled. “I still have the picture of you I took that day, somewhere. Or really, the picture of your skinny legs and feet sticking out of a snowbank, snowshoes flailing.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know there was a stone wall there?” Sirius huffed. “And… and then it got truly dark and your Mum called us in and crammed us full of lamb sausage and potatoes and then we went to the sitting room. Your Mum sang and I played the old piano, and your father enchanted the coals in the fire to act out scenes from A Winter’s Tale and you and he did the voices. Then your father went into the attic and levitated down a dusty, lumpy monstrosity that smelled like a pile of moldy mud boots.”
Remus pulled his thoughts back from the family piano – the piano that no one had played since his Mum’s death nearly a decade previously – and frowned. “Monstrosity?” he asked, but Sirius was caught up in the memory and was still speaking.
“He unfolded it and inflated it on your bedroom floor. There was barely enough space left to inch around it. Your Mum made it up with soft flannel sheets and thick wool blankets and then they left us to hunker down for the night.” He stopped. They were silent for a moment, both looking at the lilo. Sirius bit his lip and furrowed his brow. “I don’t really remember sleeping on it, though.”
Remus closed his eyes and made a humming noise. “You didn’t. We messed it up enough to fool my parents and then we slept together in my bed.
Sirius looked down again at the antique rubber and canvas mat lying on the floor exuding a scent of attic and age and long-forgotten rainy camping trips.
“Well, I’m sure it’s … very comfortable.”
“We could try transfiguring my desk into a bed, if you’d like. It probably won’t revert on you in the middle of the night.”
“I still think James did that on purpose.” Sirius muttered. “No, this is fine, Moony. Really, after sleeping on a stone floor for twelve years, anything else is wonderful.”
Remus found a set of spare flannel pajamas in his bureau and in short turn they were slipping between the sheets of their respective beds. Remus extinguished the lights with his wand and they lay silent in the darkness.
Remus found himself listening to Sirius’s breathing. It was deep and even, but Remus could tell he was still awake.
“Moony?” Sirius said quietly, after half an hour or so had passed.
“Yes?” Remus replied softly.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Are you cold? Would you like another blanket?”
“Would you … would you come sleep down here with me?” Sirius sounded almost afraid, as if he thought Remus would refuse. In answer, Remus slipped out of his bed and crawled carefully onto the lilo. It creaked and slumped a little, but eventually Remus was in, rolled tight against Sirius as the mattress stubbornly refused to stay fully inflated.
Sirius pressed his face against Remus’s shoulder. Remus put his arm around Sirius.
“I missed you,” said Remus quietly. “When you were gone. Even when I thought you’d betrayed James. I missed you in a quite simply desperate way. It was incredible how essential to me you had become.”
“I love you, Remus. I never stopped loving you. Even at my worst – I never stopped.”
“Always, Sirius. Always.” Remus pressed a small kiss to Sirius’s neck. “Now go to sleep. It’s nearly Christmas.”
Epilogue: Ten Years Later
“Pst. Padfoot … Padfoot? Are you awake? My feet are cold.”
“Well, if you weren’t so bloody tall, they wouldn’t stick out of the bed and freeze, would they?”
“They don’t stick out when I’m in my bed. This is not my bed.”
“No, but it is tradition.”
“It’s a stupid tradition. It’s James-level idiocy.”
“Oi. That’s our friend you’re insulting.”
“Could we please move to the bed?”
“I slept on a stone floor for 13 years…”
“So you really deserve to sleep in a nice soft bed for the rest of time.”
“I like the lilo. It keeps us close to each other.”
“What?”
“You can’t roll away from me. I can keep you in my arms.”
“You… sentimental … puppy.” Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius.
“So we’re not moving?”
“No.”
“What about your feet?”
In answer, Remus slid his feet up and under the leg of Sirius’s pajamas. He yelped.
“Merlin’s balls! Are you made of ice?!” he cried.
“Not with you keeping me warm.”
“Always.”
The End
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Date: 2012-12-05 05:04 pm (UTC)And, it was not without humor. Bits like this (and the feet bits at the end) really made me smile and provided a nice break to the pretty tension that made up the rest of the story. “Oh.” Sirius looked back at the sky, this time with his naked eye. “Well, do you remember? We snuck up to the astronomy tower that morning to see. It was so bright, and you could see the rings so clearly. I wanted to kiss you. But I was too scared.”
“Also James and Peter were there, so that might have been awkward.”
And there was something about the snuggling and admissions of love and need that were utterly perfect, both for the situation and for their personalities as I see them. I've always thought of Sirius as being physically affectionate and needing a lot of physical affection - he is a dog, after all - and you really played that out well. Remus, can be cuddly - especially when Sirius brings that out in him - and it is lovely to see them as physically affectionate adults as well.
This was really well done, my dear! ***applauds***
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Date: 2012-12-05 06:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-05 11:10 pm (UTC)Sirius in the shower is hilarious, and all the little details and memories. I love the laundry machine, and how Sirius knew where the dishes were. Sirius' and Remus' memories of pre-Azkaban life are all just the right balance of heartbreaking and heartwarming. :D
And the lilo! How incredibly cute, especially the epilogue! Cheers to
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Date: 2012-12-06 12:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-06 12:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-06 01:39 am (UTC)I'm at work right now, but I cannot WAIT to get home and read this!
Thank-you so! ♥
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Date: 2012-12-09 01:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-10 07:06 am (UTC)This is so gentle. Perfect for the season, it reminded me of the brush of falling snow. Emotions and memories are touched on as carefully here as Remus and Sirius touch each other. The wanting is there, simmering warm underneath, but it's tentative, not quite sure of its place yet. You balance their past tragedies with humour, remind us, as Remus does, that things weren't always so bleak, and that there was a time too when they were blissfully happy (which gets the hopeless old romantic in me every single time ^_~).
I really liked the scene you set at the beginning, that the house and its decorations are putting on a brave face as much as Remus himself, with his very modest hope that at least Sirius would fill in some of the silences that have descended around the place. And pausing for a moment to 8DDD over the fact you've set this in Wales! The place is gorgeous and I can easily imagine two laughing boys rambling and tumbling over the slopes in the snow.
in seventh year, when he pretended to be Remus’s dog for an entire day
Strutting 'round the halls like he owned the place, lapping up the attention I expect!
where his Nana McQuillen Better-than-House-Elves Patented Magical Laundry Machine sat atop his mother’s old Rolls Electromatic washing machine
I do so love all the little domestic details you give us in this, showers and dinner and borrowing robes. Really makes it feel like a homecoming, like Sirius is the kid just come in from Quidditch practice rather than a fugitive on the run. They're so comfortable with each other, despite all that's happened that probably should matter but no, no it doesn't really - they're Remus&Sirius, back in each other's reach, and that's all it comes down to in the end ♥
Sirius sprawled into the chair next to him, sniffing the air.
“Is that Darjeeling?” he asked.
I smiled at this, little vestiges of Padfoot slipping through. ^_^
Also liked your take on Azkaban and its effects on Sirius' memories, that it didn't rob him of them completely, but leeched them of all their happiness. To recall things that were among the happiest happenings of your life and feel nothing but despair... it's no wonder that an inmate would rather forget them altogether. In a way, that makes his guarding of his memories of Remus even sweeter. Better not to think of Remus at all and keep those memories buried safe and whole in his head than let the Dementors lay even a single psychic finger on them. (Well, that's how I read it anyway XD)
And then the happy consequence that most of what Sirius is remembering throughout this are happy memories: James' transfiguration pranks, where he and Remus kept their cutlery, and all the owls Remus' mother sent him because she wouldn't stand for a boy staying alone at school for Christmas. We're seeing the affirmations here, that whatever might happen in the world, there will always be good-hearted people trying to do what's right.
“And a howler. But a nice one.”
How would a nice howler go, do you suppose? XD
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Date: 2012-12-10 07:07 am (UTC)“Also James and Peter were there, so that might have been awkward.”
Adorable!
AND THE LILO~! ♥♥♥♥♥♥
Love love love the fact it's tied up in Sirius' returning memories and more for the fact Sirius didn't use it that first Christmas XD. I know well how damned near impossible it is to move around on those things, especially when they're not properly inflated - combine that with snuggling and quiet confessions in the dark and my heart, oh my molten heart! 8D
And then, as if I wasn't enough of a puddle of warm and fuzzy feels, you end with BANTER! Straight dialogue is one of my secret (or maybe not-so-secret XD) weaknesses, and it was the perfect note to end on - sweet and a little snarky and all familiar affection. Also appreciated that you didn't specify anything beyond "10 years later", so the more meta-leaning of us (*ahem*) are free to imagine as many scenarios, AU and Afterlife, as we please.
Thank you so much for this most adorable fic! ♥
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Date: 2012-12-11 01:31 am (UTC)-Yes, in my head, Remus lives in Wales. He might even speak a little Welsh.
-I like your idea of a nice howler. It would be very stern and no-nonsense, but in a motherly tough-love way.
-I, too, have spent many a night on an under-inflated air mattress, and really, when it's 10 degrees F out, the snuggling is quite welcome! The hip-bone hitting the floor in the low spot, not so much.
-You have interpreted my ambiguous '10 years later' perfectly. I personally lean toward 'and they all magically lived happily ever after, Lily and James turned out to be not dead after all, and somehow we still get Teddy,' but barring that, I'll take pleasant eternity in the afterlife, as well.
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Date: 2012-12-06 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-06 03:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-06 03:03 pm (UTC)Aw, this is so lovely. I love the atmosphere you've crafted, calm and quiet and tentative, but with all kinds of emotion swirling beneath the surface. Sirius slowly remembering memories buried away in a way that isn't imbued with massive angst is lovely too. Excellent :)
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Date: 2012-12-10 02:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-10 03:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-23 05:44 am (UTC)