bonus fic: by moonlight for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wandersfound
Dec. 28th, 2009 02:39 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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small_giftsTitle: By Moonlight
Author:archduck
Recipient:wandersfound
Rating: PG-13
Highlight for Warnings: *Mild swearing*
Word Count: 700
Summary: Forwandersfound's prompt: "A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world."- Oscar Wilde
Author's notes: I hope everyone has had a fabulous festive season! And I wish you all a wonderful 2010! :D
By Moonlight
Sirius kicked off the stiff, over-starched sheets and swore. It was far too hot. The rough fabric of the bedclothes had made his skin itch, and he’d a good mind to shave his head if it meant his body temperature might drop even slightly. He fumbled around for the length of ribbon he kept on his bedside table and swept his long hair up into a ponytail, securing it tightly and breathing a sigh of relief – that was marginally better.
‘Bloody weather,’ he mumbled to himself as he sprang out of bed. ‘This is England, not Egypt!’
It was impossibly dark and stuffy, but Sirius moved quickly across the pitch black room, unconcerned with tripping over – he hadn’t bothered unpacking a single item from his trunk since his return from Hogwarts two weeks ago. He stopped where he estimated the window was and reached out cautiously. He smiled to himself when the backs of his hands brushed against old, heavy velvet – he was spot on. Sirius had never understood why blackout curtains were necessary in a house hidden from view of the Muggle world, but then he had never understood very much about his family.
He flung the curtains open, coughing as a cloud of dust hit the back of his throat. Slivers of moonlight illuminated the drab, depressing room, and Sirius was comforted to see a half-moon hanging in the sky – Remus would be sleeping peacefully. Sirius twisted the handle on the window and pushed, desperate for fresh air in the insufferable heat.
‘Of course,’ he muttered, when the window refused to budge. ‘The bitch has charmed the window shut.’
He crept over to the door, hoping he would be able to sneak a glass of cold water from the kitchen, ice cubes from the pantry, or a cold shower - anything to quell the incessant sweating. He wasn’t surprised to find that he had been locked in. He swore again, anger bubbling in his chest as he remembered how both of his parents had flatly refused to cast a simple cooling charm over his room, and lectured him yet again for liaising with ‘filthy half-breeds’ (Remus), ‘Muggle-loving scum’ (James), and ‘that dirty little mudblood’ (Peter).
Something had to give.
One more year and he would be of age. One more year, and he would be able to cast a cooling charm over his own bedroom. One more year, and this wouldn’t even be his bedroom anymore. One more year, and he would never have to set foot in the Ancient and Most Crumbling House of Black again. One more year.
He needed a cigarette.
He tiptoed over to his trunk and dug around inside until he found an unopened packet of cigarettes and the lighter James had given him for his last birthday. Buried near the bottom was one of Remus’s t-shirts, a grey one, bobbling from washing and wear. Sirius had taken it while they were packing – wanting something tangible, something that tasted, smelled and felt of Remus. Letting the lighter and cigarettes fall back into the trunk, he took the t-shirt over to the window, and curled up on the seat.
Sirius brought the soft cotton up to his face slowly and inhaled. The scent of Remus overwhelmed him. He hadn’t known it was possible to miss someone quite so terribly. A lump rose in his throat, and a dull, hollow ache began to throb in the pit of his stomach. It would be weeks before he’d get to see Remus again.
Sirius closed his eyes as the tears started to fall, and bit his lip to stop it from trembling. He imagined that he was curled around Remus in his bed at Hogwarts, a nice cooling charm soothing their hot skin. He thought about tracing the hard contours of Remus’s body, running his fingertips over every scar, and letting his mouth slide slowly against the other boy’s.
He stayed on the window seat all night, forehead pressed to the surprisingly cool glass of the window, gazing up into the sky, watching the darkness dilute into grey, until finally, gold and white streaked the sky – dawn.
He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on without his Moony.
Author:
archduckRecipient:
wandersfoundRating: PG-13
Highlight for Warnings: *Mild swearing*
Word Count: 700
Summary: For
wandersfound's prompt: "A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world."- Oscar WildeAuthor's notes: I hope everyone has had a fabulous festive season! And I wish you all a wonderful 2010! :D
By Moonlight
Sirius kicked off the stiff, over-starched sheets and swore. It was far too hot. The rough fabric of the bedclothes had made his skin itch, and he’d a good mind to shave his head if it meant his body temperature might drop even slightly. He fumbled around for the length of ribbon he kept on his bedside table and swept his long hair up into a ponytail, securing it tightly and breathing a sigh of relief – that was marginally better.
‘Bloody weather,’ he mumbled to himself as he sprang out of bed. ‘This is England, not Egypt!’
It was impossibly dark and stuffy, but Sirius moved quickly across the pitch black room, unconcerned with tripping over – he hadn’t bothered unpacking a single item from his trunk since his return from Hogwarts two weeks ago. He stopped where he estimated the window was and reached out cautiously. He smiled to himself when the backs of his hands brushed against old, heavy velvet – he was spot on. Sirius had never understood why blackout curtains were necessary in a house hidden from view of the Muggle world, but then he had never understood very much about his family.
He flung the curtains open, coughing as a cloud of dust hit the back of his throat. Slivers of moonlight illuminated the drab, depressing room, and Sirius was comforted to see a half-moon hanging in the sky – Remus would be sleeping peacefully. Sirius twisted the handle on the window and pushed, desperate for fresh air in the insufferable heat.
‘Of course,’ he muttered, when the window refused to budge. ‘The bitch has charmed the window shut.’
He crept over to the door, hoping he would be able to sneak a glass of cold water from the kitchen, ice cubes from the pantry, or a cold shower - anything to quell the incessant sweating. He wasn’t surprised to find that he had been locked in. He swore again, anger bubbling in his chest as he remembered how both of his parents had flatly refused to cast a simple cooling charm over his room, and lectured him yet again for liaising with ‘filthy half-breeds’ (Remus), ‘Muggle-loving scum’ (James), and ‘that dirty little mudblood’ (Peter).
Something had to give.
One more year and he would be of age. One more year, and he would be able to cast a cooling charm over his own bedroom. One more year, and this wouldn’t even be his bedroom anymore. One more year, and he would never have to set foot in the Ancient and Most Crumbling House of Black again. One more year.
He needed a cigarette.
He tiptoed over to his trunk and dug around inside until he found an unopened packet of cigarettes and the lighter James had given him for his last birthday. Buried near the bottom was one of Remus’s t-shirts, a grey one, bobbling from washing and wear. Sirius had taken it while they were packing – wanting something tangible, something that tasted, smelled and felt of Remus. Letting the lighter and cigarettes fall back into the trunk, he took the t-shirt over to the window, and curled up on the seat.
Sirius brought the soft cotton up to his face slowly and inhaled. The scent of Remus overwhelmed him. He hadn’t known it was possible to miss someone quite so terribly. A lump rose in his throat, and a dull, hollow ache began to throb in the pit of his stomach. It would be weeks before he’d get to see Remus again.
Sirius closed his eyes as the tears started to fall, and bit his lip to stop it from trembling. He imagined that he was curled around Remus in his bed at Hogwarts, a nice cooling charm soothing their hot skin. He thought about tracing the hard contours of Remus’s body, running his fingertips over every scar, and letting his mouth slide slowly against the other boy’s.
He stayed on the window seat all night, forehead pressed to the surprisingly cool glass of the window, gazing up into the sky, watching the darkness dilute into grey, until finally, gold and white streaked the sky – dawn.
He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on without his Moony.
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