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small_giftsTitle: Three Times Sirius Gave Remus the Best Present
Author/Artist:mindabbles
Recipient:starfishstar
Rating: PG-13
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *None *
Word count: 3,000
Summary: If there’s an art to giving the best gift, right when Remus needs it most, Sirius is a master.
Notes: Thank you starfishstar for pitching in with a lovely pinch hit! It was much appreciated. I hope you enjoy this little thank you gift and don’t mind a reverse timeline.
The Third Time
Sirius chases a pea around his plate with a bit of potato. He half expects Molly to tell him to stop playing with his food. He can’t help the restless energy that’s making him fidgety and on edge. He hasn’t felt cheerful for so long that the experience of enjoying himself, of having something to look forward to, is making his nerves jangle. He’s almost grateful for the spectre of a second war to bring him back to earth a bit. It’s also a good distraction from waiting for Remus to open his gift.
Molly comes to the table brandishing the pudding, huge and flaming after it’s been doused with Firewhisky, and gives everyone a piece the size of their heads, swimming in enough custard to drown Kreacher. She spoons the largest piece into a bowl and sets it aside, to take to Arthur in hospital, no doubt.
Sirius watches Remus close his eyes and sigh as he takes a bite of the pudding. He’s always loved the rich combination of fruit and cake and whisky and custard and Sirius takes a moment to be grateful for the simple pleasure of watching Remus enjoy something. Remus glances up and catches Sirius watching him and Sirius forces himself not to look away. Remus smiles and Sirius’ stomach swoops like it did when he was sixteen.
“Presents,” shouts Fred. Or George.
“Molly,” Sirius says as she rises from the table for the twentieth time since they started eating. “We’ll get the tea.” He gestures at Remus.
“Relax,” Remus adds.
She smiles at them gratefully and Sirius finds that the satisfaction of being able to help this family enjoy their Christmas is not wearing off.
“Warm the pot,” Remus says, once they are at the stove.
“I remember how to make tea,” Sirius says.
“Do you now?” Remus teases, bumping his shoulder against Sirius’.
“You’re in a good mood,” Sirius says. He lets his fingers brush the back of Remus’ hand.
Remus shrugs. “Why not? It’s Christmas, most of us are here together, Arthur is going to be fine, and your relentless holiday cheer is catching.”
“Always practical, my Moony. Being in a good mood is sensible, so there you are,” Sirius laughs. “S’why I love you.”
Sirius pauses and so does Remus. They’ve not said those words yet — again.
Remus knocks into Sirius again, jostling him. “I’m glad you find I still have some admirable qualities.”
Sirius breathes out and says, “Eminently admirable. Let’s get the tea in to Molly before she decides we’re not capable.”
“Now presents,” shouts George. Or Fred.
Sirius begins to have serious doubts about this group presentation of gifts. If Remus hates his gift, rejects it, thinking it’s too much or maudlin, well, Sirius would rather that happen in private.
The kids all tear into their presents, paper and ribbons flying through the air. It’s a world away from the way Regulus and Sirius had to open their gifts, politely and with as little enthusiasm as possible.
He’s glad he’s next to Remus so he can feel his reactions to the gift. He doesn’t think he’d have been able to stay in his skin if he had to watch him from across the table. Remus has a little smile on his face as he runs one finger carefully under the Spello-Tape.
The red paper parts to reveal a small stone carving. It’s a dog, but it’s rough and if you don’t know, it looks like a wolf. It’s very old and Sirius went to some trouble to get it.
“Oh,” Remus says as he touches the stone and runs his finger along the dog’s back.
“Seems like a bit of an odd choice,” Bill says, chuckling and looking from Remus to the canine figure.
“It’s not a wolf,” Remus says. “It’s a dog, an ancient carving from Orkney.”
Remus is staring at Sirius and Sirius is dimly aware of the holiday festivities carrying on around him. He’s afraid he’s overstepped, pushed this fragile détente they’ve achieved — too fast, too big, too emotional. Sometimes he forgets how to be.
The evening drags on a bit long for Sirius, who’s never quite become used to crowds again. Dumbledore drops by, and so do Mad-Eye and Tonks, and what with one thing and another, Sirius doesn’t have a moment to speak to Remus. He excuses himself as soon as he can and waits in his room, sure Remus will come, until he realises that he is not someone who sits in rooms and waits for people. His hand is on the doorknob when there’s a soft knock. Sirius opens the door to find Remus standing there, looking at him with something like amazement.
“Only you would do something like this,” Remus says. He opens his hand to reveal the little dog sitting on his palm. “I lost you, all of you, and then, when the flat was raided and the Ministry took everything, I felt so stupid. With everything else I had lost, how could I care about a stone dog? It gutted me. I didn’t think I could bear it. How did you find another one?”
“Orkney is not so far from Azkaban,” Sirius says. “I stopped there for a rest and when I realised where I was, I found it, and figured I’d give it to you when the time felt right.”
Remus pulls him into his arms. Sirius wraps himself in Remus and walks them together to his bed. He’s thought of this moment so many times, wanting it to be perfect but knowing it would likely be awkward and laden with mixed emotions.
“Missed you, need you,” Remus murmurs, and Sirius is dizzy with the joy of it, of being needed again by someone he’s loved since he was a boy. And with Remus’ words and his lips on Sirius’, the doubts melt away.
When they are naked and tangled and spent, Sirius curls against Remus and pulls the blanket over them.
“I’m happy to have my Padfoot back,” Remus says, kissing Sirius’ hair. Sirius starts to ask if he means the stone carving or him, but decides he’s happy to assume Remus means both. He sinks into the feeling of Remus’ hand heavy on his chest and Remus’ leg slung over his, and lets himself settle into the knowing that there will be many more moments like this.
The Second Time
Remus ties the tent flap closed as quickly as he can. Snow swirls in after him anyway. He kicks his boots off and drops his gloves and coat at the entrance in vain hope that he can leave most of the cold outside.
He’s about to make some tea, and maybe add in a dash of the Firewhisky Sirius hid in the bottom of his rucksack to make his New Year a little less miserable, when he hears a twig crack right outside his tent. He taps his lantern with his wand and the tent goes dark. The frozen snows crunches under feet. It sounds more like an animal than a person and Remus takes a breath. A loud bark, one he’d recognise anywhere, echoes through the forest and Remus’ heart nearly stops.
He opens the tent flap and Padfoot bounds up to the door, ducking inside and shaking himself like he always does right before he transforms — does it in either direction, looking like a dog either way — and a wave of affection almost takes over the panic of imagining what disaster has made Sirius track him down here.
“What’s happened?” Remus asks before Sirius is stood fully upright.
“Dumbledore took pity on you, no one to kiss at midnight and no tall, dark, handsome first foot to bring you luck,” Sirius says. He shakes off his cloak and wraps his arms around Remus. Remus feels the chill begin to leave his bones for the first time since he set up camp in the woods near the village Rowena Ravenclaw was last known to call home.
“Took pity on you, more like, going about with your tail between your legs,” Remus says, feeling the grin spread on his face as he presses his cheek against Sirius’.
Sirius pulls back and waves his hand as if batting a fly. “Details, Moony, details.”
“Well, come on in then,” Remus says, gesturing as if he’s inviting Sirius in a grand room.
“Not sure why you can’t have walls,” Sirius says, conjuring blue flames in the bucket Remus sometimes uses to melt snow for washing water. “Walls would be warmer.”
“Inns and B and B’s require registration and names,” says Remus.
Sirius perches on the edge of Remus’ camp bed, absently touching the things he’s laid out on his trunk next to it, trying to make this desolate place a little more homey — two books, a lantern, a photo of the four of them from fifth year, and his little stone Padfoot.
“You brought this?” Sirius asks. He smiles as he picks it up and turns it over in his hands. Sirius can feel the old magic in it just as Remus can.
“I take it with me everywhere I go,” Remus says, feeling a bit as if he’s suddenly standing naked in Diagon Alley.
“Moony, when you come home, I want you to move in with me.”
“We’ve been over this,” Remus says. He taps the kettle and steam curls from it. “Tea?”
“And you’re being stubborn.” Sirius says. “Definitely. Tea.”
“I’m cold and tired and I’ve been completely alone for a week. I’m really pleased you’re here, but can we discuss this when I get back?”
“You have something you’d rather discuss now?”
“How you’re going to make it up to me that I spent New Year’s eve alone and cold, for one,” Remus says. Sirius is truly a sight for sore eyes. Remus has missed him so much. Order meetings and assignments have turned from exciting, threaded through with optimism and certainty in their victory, to laced with tension and fear. Sirius, and how things are between them now, is what keeps him putting one foot in front of the other. Remus is afraid to tamper with it.
Sirius places the stone carving back on Remus’ trunk, giving it one last stroke with his finger from the tip of the little dog’s nose to the end of its tail. “I don’t want to wonder if you’ve come home. I can’t bear it when I don’t know if something’s happened to you.”
Remus bends to kiss Sirius’ upturned face. Sirius’ hand comes to tangle in Remus’ hair and Remus surges forward, tumbling Sirius onto the camp bed. Sirius breathes his name as Remus presses him into the mattress and Remus’ worries, the chill in his bones, the monotony and loneliness of the last week melt away in Sirius’ warm, welcoming body.
Maybe it’s the intensity of the time or maybe it’s the hunger of absence, but Remus doesn’t remember the last time being with Sirius was quite like this. They’re always good together, and Sirius still makes Remus weak at the knees with a look or a touch, and even still, it’s been a while since Remus rose to his touch again and again. He’s lost count of the times they’ve come back together, been inside each other, touched and kissed every inch of each other’s bodies, by the time he collapses back on the thin camp bed, Sirius on top of him, panting and messy and beautiful. He holds Sirius close, cradling his head on his chest, and laughs and begs for rest. Sirius kisses him and whispers that he loves him, no matter what. Remus isn’t sure if he answers, but he hopes he does, as sleep pulls him under.
The morning light seeps gently into the tent. Sirius is still wrapped around him, head nestled against his shoulder. Remus sighs, murmurs, “Love you, too,” into Sirius’ hair and lets himself drift back into the best sleep he’s had since he last slept next to Sirius.
He’s vaguely aware of movement, of a soft kiss on his lips, and a whispered, “Bye Moony. Come home soon.”
Remus wakes with a start, and the sense that he’s slept way too late. He half wonders if he dreamt Sirius’ visit and the rather spectacular night they spent together. The cot is still warm under the blankets from where Sirius’ body pressed against his. He reaches for the cup of water he leaves beside his bed and sees that a key is hanging on a slender golden chain around the little dog’s neck. Remus closes his fingers around it and, removing it carefully from tiny Padfoot, loops the chain around his neck and lets the key to Sirius’ — their — flat fall against his chest.
The First Time
“Here, those are my socks,” Remus says, snatching his favourite pair of warm, blue socks out of Sirius’ hands just as he’s about to put them in his own trunk.
“Dogs steal socks, Moony. You have to wallop him on the nose or he’ll go on doing it,” says James. Sirius throws another balled up pair of Remus’ socks at James’ head. James catches them and throws them at Peter.
“Oi, how am I in this?” Peter squawks, but Remus see the edges of the smile tugging at his mouth.
“Maybe I just want something to remember you by,” Sirius says, flopping down on Remus’ bed.
“I’m sure you’ll be thinking of me while you’re lying on the beach in Majorca,” Remus says. He manages to keep his tone light. He hates that Sirius and James are going on holiday so far away during their last school holiday. Being honest, he hates that he won’t see Sirius for two weeks and isn’t sure he won’t pine to death, which is such a pathetic thought, he may as well throw himself off the astronomy tower.
“I will, Moony, every minute,” Sirius says, batting his absurdly beautiful eyes at Remus. Remus feels heat rise to his cheeks and the lure of the astronomy tower becomes stronger. “Here,” Sirius says and Remus ducks reflexively. You never know what might be chucked at your head when Sirius and James are around. A small wrapped parcel lands next to Remus’ knee. He eyes it. “It’s not going to explode,” Sirius says. “Open it.”
Something about Sirius’ suddenly hesitant voice, the way he looks down, makes Remus more nervous than if the parcel were going to explode.
He tears the paper and a stone carving of a four-legged creature rests in his palm. It’s old. Remus can feel years of history as he holds it.
Peter cranes his neck to look at it. “Ouch, mate. Rub it in.”
“It’s not a wolf,” says Sirius, never looking away from Remus.
“It’s a dog,” Remus says. He looks at Sirius, who smiles at him, and it’s almost like looking into the sun.
James coughs and grabs Peter’s arm. “Come on, Pete, let’s go and find Lily.”
“Thank you, Padfoot,” Remus says, turning the little dog over in his hands.
“So you won’t think I forget about you when I’m gone,” Sirius says. “It’s from Orkney. I found it when I went with the Potters during the summer. I meant to give it to you — when the time was right.”
“I love it.” Remus rubs his thumb over the dog’s head. It’s tiny pointy ears scratch the pad of his thumb. Sirius is still looking at him expectantly and Remus reaches over and grasps Sirius’ hand.
“The Islanders were some of the first wizards to have dogs as companions. The dogs were closely related to the wolves anyway and were sort of a bridge between the people and the wolves, when there were wolves in Scotland.”
“I really love it.” Remus feels a sense of contentment spread through his body as he holds the stone carving. “I don’t know what to say.”
Sirius pulls on Remus’ hand until Remus’ shoulder presses against Sirius’. He could turn his head and kiss him and he feels the magnetic pull that is Sirius. He will kiss him soon, he knows that now.
“Pete, I’m sure you didn’t leave it up there,” bellows James from somewhere on the stairs. His shout is followed by footsteps. The moment passes but the warm feelings in Remus’ chest will, he’s certain, be there for him to call up for the rest of his life.
“I’ll see you when we’re back from holiday,” Sirius says, squeezing Remus’ fingers. “I’ll come to yours.”
“Yeah,” Remus says. He slips the dog into his pocket and immediately begins to count the minutes until Sirius and James return from Majorca.
Author/Artist:
mindabblesRecipient:
starfishstarRating: PG-13
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *None *
Word count: 3,000
Summary: If there’s an art to giving the best gift, right when Remus needs it most, Sirius is a master.
Notes: Thank you starfishstar for pitching in with a lovely pinch hit! It was much appreciated. I hope you enjoy this little thank you gift and don’t mind a reverse timeline.
The Third Time
Sirius chases a pea around his plate with a bit of potato. He half expects Molly to tell him to stop playing with his food. He can’t help the restless energy that’s making him fidgety and on edge. He hasn’t felt cheerful for so long that the experience of enjoying himself, of having something to look forward to, is making his nerves jangle. He’s almost grateful for the spectre of a second war to bring him back to earth a bit. It’s also a good distraction from waiting for Remus to open his gift.
Molly comes to the table brandishing the pudding, huge and flaming after it’s been doused with Firewhisky, and gives everyone a piece the size of their heads, swimming in enough custard to drown Kreacher. She spoons the largest piece into a bowl and sets it aside, to take to Arthur in hospital, no doubt.
Sirius watches Remus close his eyes and sigh as he takes a bite of the pudding. He’s always loved the rich combination of fruit and cake and whisky and custard and Sirius takes a moment to be grateful for the simple pleasure of watching Remus enjoy something. Remus glances up and catches Sirius watching him and Sirius forces himself not to look away. Remus smiles and Sirius’ stomach swoops like it did when he was sixteen.
“Presents,” shouts Fred. Or George.
“Molly,” Sirius says as she rises from the table for the twentieth time since they started eating. “We’ll get the tea.” He gestures at Remus.
“Relax,” Remus adds.
She smiles at them gratefully and Sirius finds that the satisfaction of being able to help this family enjoy their Christmas is not wearing off.
“Warm the pot,” Remus says, once they are at the stove.
“I remember how to make tea,” Sirius says.
“Do you now?” Remus teases, bumping his shoulder against Sirius’.
“You’re in a good mood,” Sirius says. He lets his fingers brush the back of Remus’ hand.
Remus shrugs. “Why not? It’s Christmas, most of us are here together, Arthur is going to be fine, and your relentless holiday cheer is catching.”
“Always practical, my Moony. Being in a good mood is sensible, so there you are,” Sirius laughs. “S’why I love you.”
Sirius pauses and so does Remus. They’ve not said those words yet — again.
Remus knocks into Sirius again, jostling him. “I’m glad you find I still have some admirable qualities.”
Sirius breathes out and says, “Eminently admirable. Let’s get the tea in to Molly before she decides we’re not capable.”
“Now presents,” shouts George. Or Fred.
Sirius begins to have serious doubts about this group presentation of gifts. If Remus hates his gift, rejects it, thinking it’s too much or maudlin, well, Sirius would rather that happen in private.
The kids all tear into their presents, paper and ribbons flying through the air. It’s a world away from the way Regulus and Sirius had to open their gifts, politely and with as little enthusiasm as possible.
He’s glad he’s next to Remus so he can feel his reactions to the gift. He doesn’t think he’d have been able to stay in his skin if he had to watch him from across the table. Remus has a little smile on his face as he runs one finger carefully under the Spello-Tape.
The red paper parts to reveal a small stone carving. It’s a dog, but it’s rough and if you don’t know, it looks like a wolf. It’s very old and Sirius went to some trouble to get it.
“Oh,” Remus says as he touches the stone and runs his finger along the dog’s back.
“Seems like a bit of an odd choice,” Bill says, chuckling and looking from Remus to the canine figure.
“It’s not a wolf,” Remus says. “It’s a dog, an ancient carving from Orkney.”
Remus is staring at Sirius and Sirius is dimly aware of the holiday festivities carrying on around him. He’s afraid he’s overstepped, pushed this fragile détente they’ve achieved — too fast, too big, too emotional. Sometimes he forgets how to be.
The evening drags on a bit long for Sirius, who’s never quite become used to crowds again. Dumbledore drops by, and so do Mad-Eye and Tonks, and what with one thing and another, Sirius doesn’t have a moment to speak to Remus. He excuses himself as soon as he can and waits in his room, sure Remus will come, until he realises that he is not someone who sits in rooms and waits for people. His hand is on the doorknob when there’s a soft knock. Sirius opens the door to find Remus standing there, looking at him with something like amazement.
“Only you would do something like this,” Remus says. He opens his hand to reveal the little dog sitting on his palm. “I lost you, all of you, and then, when the flat was raided and the Ministry took everything, I felt so stupid. With everything else I had lost, how could I care about a stone dog? It gutted me. I didn’t think I could bear it. How did you find another one?”
“Orkney is not so far from Azkaban,” Sirius says. “I stopped there for a rest and when I realised where I was, I found it, and figured I’d give it to you when the time felt right.”
Remus pulls him into his arms. Sirius wraps himself in Remus and walks them together to his bed. He’s thought of this moment so many times, wanting it to be perfect but knowing it would likely be awkward and laden with mixed emotions.
“Missed you, need you,” Remus murmurs, and Sirius is dizzy with the joy of it, of being needed again by someone he’s loved since he was a boy. And with Remus’ words and his lips on Sirius’, the doubts melt away.
When they are naked and tangled and spent, Sirius curls against Remus and pulls the blanket over them.
“I’m happy to have my Padfoot back,” Remus says, kissing Sirius’ hair. Sirius starts to ask if he means the stone carving or him, but decides he’s happy to assume Remus means both. He sinks into the feeling of Remus’ hand heavy on his chest and Remus’ leg slung over his, and lets himself settle into the knowing that there will be many more moments like this.
The Second Time
Remus ties the tent flap closed as quickly as he can. Snow swirls in after him anyway. He kicks his boots off and drops his gloves and coat at the entrance in vain hope that he can leave most of the cold outside.
He’s about to make some tea, and maybe add in a dash of the Firewhisky Sirius hid in the bottom of his rucksack to make his New Year a little less miserable, when he hears a twig crack right outside his tent. He taps his lantern with his wand and the tent goes dark. The frozen snows crunches under feet. It sounds more like an animal than a person and Remus takes a breath. A loud bark, one he’d recognise anywhere, echoes through the forest and Remus’ heart nearly stops.
He opens the tent flap and Padfoot bounds up to the door, ducking inside and shaking himself like he always does right before he transforms — does it in either direction, looking like a dog either way — and a wave of affection almost takes over the panic of imagining what disaster has made Sirius track him down here.
“What’s happened?” Remus asks before Sirius is stood fully upright.
“Dumbledore took pity on you, no one to kiss at midnight and no tall, dark, handsome first foot to bring you luck,” Sirius says. He shakes off his cloak and wraps his arms around Remus. Remus feels the chill begin to leave his bones for the first time since he set up camp in the woods near the village Rowena Ravenclaw was last known to call home.
“Took pity on you, more like, going about with your tail between your legs,” Remus says, feeling the grin spread on his face as he presses his cheek against Sirius’.
Sirius pulls back and waves his hand as if batting a fly. “Details, Moony, details.”
“Well, come on in then,” Remus says, gesturing as if he’s inviting Sirius in a grand room.
“Not sure why you can’t have walls,” Sirius says, conjuring blue flames in the bucket Remus sometimes uses to melt snow for washing water. “Walls would be warmer.”
“Inns and B and B’s require registration and names,” says Remus.
Sirius perches on the edge of Remus’ camp bed, absently touching the things he’s laid out on his trunk next to it, trying to make this desolate place a little more homey — two books, a lantern, a photo of the four of them from fifth year, and his little stone Padfoot.
“You brought this?” Sirius asks. He smiles as he picks it up and turns it over in his hands. Sirius can feel the old magic in it just as Remus can.
“I take it with me everywhere I go,” Remus says, feeling a bit as if he’s suddenly standing naked in Diagon Alley.
“Moony, when you come home, I want you to move in with me.”
“We’ve been over this,” Remus says. He taps the kettle and steam curls from it. “Tea?”
“And you’re being stubborn.” Sirius says. “Definitely. Tea.”
“I’m cold and tired and I’ve been completely alone for a week. I’m really pleased you’re here, but can we discuss this when I get back?”
“You have something you’d rather discuss now?”
“How you’re going to make it up to me that I spent New Year’s eve alone and cold, for one,” Remus says. Sirius is truly a sight for sore eyes. Remus has missed him so much. Order meetings and assignments have turned from exciting, threaded through with optimism and certainty in their victory, to laced with tension and fear. Sirius, and how things are between them now, is what keeps him putting one foot in front of the other. Remus is afraid to tamper with it.
Sirius places the stone carving back on Remus’ trunk, giving it one last stroke with his finger from the tip of the little dog’s nose to the end of its tail. “I don’t want to wonder if you’ve come home. I can’t bear it when I don’t know if something’s happened to you.”
Remus bends to kiss Sirius’ upturned face. Sirius’ hand comes to tangle in Remus’ hair and Remus surges forward, tumbling Sirius onto the camp bed. Sirius breathes his name as Remus presses him into the mattress and Remus’ worries, the chill in his bones, the monotony and loneliness of the last week melt away in Sirius’ warm, welcoming body.
Maybe it’s the intensity of the time or maybe it’s the hunger of absence, but Remus doesn’t remember the last time being with Sirius was quite like this. They’re always good together, and Sirius still makes Remus weak at the knees with a look or a touch, and even still, it’s been a while since Remus rose to his touch again and again. He’s lost count of the times they’ve come back together, been inside each other, touched and kissed every inch of each other’s bodies, by the time he collapses back on the thin camp bed, Sirius on top of him, panting and messy and beautiful. He holds Sirius close, cradling his head on his chest, and laughs and begs for rest. Sirius kisses him and whispers that he loves him, no matter what. Remus isn’t sure if he answers, but he hopes he does, as sleep pulls him under.
The morning light seeps gently into the tent. Sirius is still wrapped around him, head nestled against his shoulder. Remus sighs, murmurs, “Love you, too,” into Sirius’ hair and lets himself drift back into the best sleep he’s had since he last slept next to Sirius.
He’s vaguely aware of movement, of a soft kiss on his lips, and a whispered, “Bye Moony. Come home soon.”
Remus wakes with a start, and the sense that he’s slept way too late. He half wonders if he dreamt Sirius’ visit and the rather spectacular night they spent together. The cot is still warm under the blankets from where Sirius’ body pressed against his. He reaches for the cup of water he leaves beside his bed and sees that a key is hanging on a slender golden chain around the little dog’s neck. Remus closes his fingers around it and, removing it carefully from tiny Padfoot, loops the chain around his neck and lets the key to Sirius’ — their — flat fall against his chest.
The First Time
“Here, those are my socks,” Remus says, snatching his favourite pair of warm, blue socks out of Sirius’ hands just as he’s about to put them in his own trunk.
“Dogs steal socks, Moony. You have to wallop him on the nose or he’ll go on doing it,” says James. Sirius throws another balled up pair of Remus’ socks at James’ head. James catches them and throws them at Peter.
“Oi, how am I in this?” Peter squawks, but Remus see the edges of the smile tugging at his mouth.
“Maybe I just want something to remember you by,” Sirius says, flopping down on Remus’ bed.
“I’m sure you’ll be thinking of me while you’re lying on the beach in Majorca,” Remus says. He manages to keep his tone light. He hates that Sirius and James are going on holiday so far away during their last school holiday. Being honest, he hates that he won’t see Sirius for two weeks and isn’t sure he won’t pine to death, which is such a pathetic thought, he may as well throw himself off the astronomy tower.
“I will, Moony, every minute,” Sirius says, batting his absurdly beautiful eyes at Remus. Remus feels heat rise to his cheeks and the lure of the astronomy tower becomes stronger. “Here,” Sirius says and Remus ducks reflexively. You never know what might be chucked at your head when Sirius and James are around. A small wrapped parcel lands next to Remus’ knee. He eyes it. “It’s not going to explode,” Sirius says. “Open it.”
Something about Sirius’ suddenly hesitant voice, the way he looks down, makes Remus more nervous than if the parcel were going to explode.
He tears the paper and a stone carving of a four-legged creature rests in his palm. It’s old. Remus can feel years of history as he holds it.
Peter cranes his neck to look at it. “Ouch, mate. Rub it in.”
“It’s not a wolf,” says Sirius, never looking away from Remus.
“It’s a dog,” Remus says. He looks at Sirius, who smiles at him, and it’s almost like looking into the sun.
James coughs and grabs Peter’s arm. “Come on, Pete, let’s go and find Lily.”
“Thank you, Padfoot,” Remus says, turning the little dog over in his hands.
“So you won’t think I forget about you when I’m gone,” Sirius says. “It’s from Orkney. I found it when I went with the Potters during the summer. I meant to give it to you — when the time was right.”
“I love it.” Remus rubs his thumb over the dog’s head. It’s tiny pointy ears scratch the pad of his thumb. Sirius is still looking at him expectantly and Remus reaches over and grasps Sirius’ hand.
“The Islanders were some of the first wizards to have dogs as companions. The dogs were closely related to the wolves anyway and were sort of a bridge between the people and the wolves, when there were wolves in Scotland.”
“I really love it.” Remus feels a sense of contentment spread through his body as he holds the stone carving. “I don’t know what to say.”
Sirius pulls on Remus’ hand until Remus’ shoulder presses against Sirius’. He could turn his head and kiss him and he feels the magnetic pull that is Sirius. He will kiss him soon, he knows that now.
“Pete, I’m sure you didn’t leave it up there,” bellows James from somewhere on the stairs. His shout is followed by footsteps. The moment passes but the warm feelings in Remus’ chest will, he’s certain, be there for him to call up for the rest of his life.
“I’ll see you when we’re back from holiday,” Sirius says, squeezing Remus’ fingers. “I’ll come to yours.”
“Yeah,” Remus says. He slips the dog into his pocket and immediately begins to count the minutes until Sirius and James return from Majorca.
