fic: Mr. Lupin's Houseguest for kenazfiction by thais_m
Title: Mr. Lupin's Houseguest
Author: thais_m
Giftee: Kenaz kenazfiction
Beta Extraordinaire: fiona_fawkes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: about 1500 words
Pairing: SB/RL
Warnings: 'ware the OCs.
Summary: Lie low at Lupin's...
Her name was Ingrid, and she was spying on a man.
It was on a mildly distasteful evening that Ingrid first caught a glimpse of the new arrival. She tsk'd under her breath at the straggly black hair. Her fingers twitched, longing for scissors and a comb. And he needs fattening up, and a good wash, and maybe-
Unexpectedly, the man turned, staring straight at where Ingrid was spying from behind parted curtains. She took a half step back, and shivered, pulling her sweater tight about her. What strange eyes... , she thought, but before she could get a good look at him, the man looked away and knocked again at Mr. Lupin's door. Why doesn't use he use the buzzer? she wondered, twining the cord of the handheld vacuum nervously with her fingers. Then the door opened, and the man walked inside.
Hmmm, Ingrid thought. He looks familiar. Maybe he's visited Mr. Lupin before? But how could anyone forget that face, so... so gaunt. Shadowed, even under the light Mr. Lupin turned on at night (to ward off ghosts, he laughingly had told her).
Ingrid flicked the curtains back into place and put the vacuum away. Perhaps she should call her husband at work. No, she thought. He would just tell her that she was overreacting. Besides, Mr. Lupin's visitor was probably just a poor artist, or perhaps he was suffering from some sort of illness. Something like that. Her husband would just ask her to be kind; stop spying on the neighbors. Ingrid gazed out the windows again, taking in the clean street lined with modest houses and their postage-stamp front yards.
An imperious meow called her out of her thoughts. She smiled down at the cat as it padded to the door and looked up at her, tail slowly swishing back and forth. Oh, yes, she thought. Must not forget to let Rex outside for the night.
His name was Rex, and he was a Tiger. Roar!
When the Giantess opened the door, Rex leapt out into the twilight. He slipped through the shadows of a bush, head low, ears flicking every which way to catch the last sounds of the dying day. This tiger is on the prowl, he thought, and gave a little growl of happiness.
It was time to make the rounds of his territory, which encompassed not just the house he slept in during the day, but also three other Giant houses. For example, the house right over there belonged to him because its Giant owner belonged to him. That is because the Giant fed him cream every time Rex showed up, and Rex had rubbed his face against the Giant many times, so the Giant smelled not just of the night breeze, tea, chocolate, and dust, but also of Rex.
But tonight there was a strange sound coming from the house of this Giant. Rex slinked over, and scratched at the door. It was opened a moment later by a Giant who did not smell familiar, one who had not been marked as Property of Rex.
This Giant knelt down before Rex, sniffed, and then growled. This Giant did not smell of tea and chocolate and other safe things, but of dog. Rex hissed and took a swipe at the Giant's snout.
"Sirius, watch out for... the cat," said Rex's Giant, finally coming into view. Rex darted to him and hid behind his legs as the strange Giant grabbed his snout and whimpered. Rex's Giant sighed, but said, "Hold still, this will only take a moment." He waved a the stick that he carried with him at the smelly Giant's snout and the pathetic sounds stopped. Rex huffed. Dogs and their sticks.
"This is Rex," Rex's Giant said, pointing at him. "And Rex, this is Padfoot." The strange Giant narrowed his eyes as Rex rubbed his face against his Giant's hands, marking him again as Property of Rex. Rex's Giant picked him up and carried him to another room, the one full of dusty cushions and soft couches. The strange Giant followed.
"A cat?"
"Crookshanks, Sirius."
"Point."
Rex purred as his Giant scratched him behind his ears, just the way that he liked it. The two Giants stood looking at each other in silence for several moments.
"Remus, old buddy, old pal... I need to stay here for a while."
The hands on Rex stopped moving. Rex pushed his head against it. Nothing.
"Dumbledore?"
"Yeah."
Rex jumped out of the Giant's arms and onto the window seat. The wide window was pushed up to let in a cool night breeze. He watched the silent Giants in their tense postures, and was distinctly and uncomfortably reminded of dogs circling each other. There was a fight coming, Rex decided, and so he left.
His name was Sirius, and he was waiting for an answer.
He wanted to hold Remus again, like he did that night last year in the Shrieking Shack. But the confidence from being half-mad and overjoyed was not so easy to find when he was sitting in a somber little living room that looked so familiar. Maybe just a little older, more worn. The years hadn't changed this house as much as trickled a layer of dust and sadness over the furniture - over his over his bright, laughing Moony.
A muffled thump from outside the window startled Remus and signaled the exit of the demon cat. He looked up and said, quite gently, "Yes, of course you may stay."
Sirius nodded. What should he say now? Should he tell Remus how he can't quite remember the texture of Remus's hair under his fingers; how he feels like he's forgotten the crinkle of Remus's eyes when Sirius made him laugh; how he never could forget the taste of bitterness Sirius saw Moony kissing Olivia Vinet behind Greenhouse Two some sixteen years ago?
But for all the things that he could have said, Sirius found himself (heart-thumping, hands sweaty, head dizzy) frozen with the words stuck somewhere thirteen years ago. The man in front of him was no longer the sweet young man that Sirius had once felt so much for. This man was a stranger. This was Remus; polite and distant and nothing at all like the Moony Sirius almost remembers. So he said nothing more than a mumbled "Thanks," and tried not to let his disappointment show.
His name was Remus, and he had an escaped convict in his sitting room.
Remus avoided the sad gaze from the shell of a man that stood before him. Remus couldn't read him anymore - this was not his old friend come back to save him from lonely days and cold nights. This Sirius was just a dark shadow of his past. Perhaps they both were.
"The guest room is-"
"I know where the guest room is, Remus. Thank you." He gave Remus a faint smile, almost mocking in such formal tones. Sirius stood quickly and walked past Remus and out of the room. Remus was sure that the gentle touch brush against his hair had been the breeze from the open window.
Her name was not pronounceable, and she was just waking up for a night of hunting.
She watched from her carefully spun parlour as a Man slowly walked into her room. He shut the door quietly behind him, dropping his satchel. The Man stood very still for a long time, just staring at the frayed blanket on the neatly made bed. Suddenly, he turned around and left the room, steps quick and determined.
There was a tug at her web. Prey.
His name was Remus, and he is trying to think.
Remus was still sitting on the worn sofa (the one that used to make him blush) when Sirius came back into the room. He looked up as long fingers came gently down to run through his hair, brush an ear, and finally rest behind his neck. Sirius sat down beside him, slipping the fingers of his other hand through Remus's. Their faces were inches apart. Remus took an unsteady breath and started to ask what exactly Sirius thought he was doing.
"Remus," Sirius whispered... no, breathed over his lips.
Remus didn't move to push him away. Despite the hollow echoes he heard when Sirius said his name in that tone. It was how Sirius always said his name, right before he... But that Sirius was long gone, stolen by the Dementors, life, injustice. This man before him was a sad parody, a poorly crafted replica.
When Sirius leaned in close and kissed him, his doubts fluttered, sighed, and quieted. For now, at least, Remus wanted to remember what it had been like. But this kiss wasn't filled with thoughtless joy. It asked questions Remus couldn't answer alone. Remus pulled back, searching the unfamiliar lines on his face, the unfamiliar pain in his eyes, for a hint.
Was Sirius lonely? Trying to recapture the past? Acting on half-remembered cues and lines from a lifetime away? Did he even know what they had? Did he even know what love-
"Please, Remus."
"You...you still...?" Remus questioned. Still want me. Still need me. Still...
A pause while Sirius avoided his eyes. "I think - Sometimes," he finally answered cryptically.
Sometimes.
Sometimes Remus almost remembers what it was like to love another - to feel happiness instead of loss at a friend's touch. Would sometimes be enough? Maybe. He leaned in to meet another kiss, willing to give it a try.
Author: thais_m
Giftee: Kenaz kenazfiction
Beta Extraordinaire: fiona_fawkes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: about 1500 words
Pairing: SB/RL
Warnings: 'ware the OCs.
Summary: Lie low at Lupin's...
Her name was Ingrid, and she was spying on a man.
It was on a mildly distasteful evening that Ingrid first caught a glimpse of the new arrival. She tsk'd under her breath at the straggly black hair. Her fingers twitched, longing for scissors and a comb. And he needs fattening up, and a good wash, and maybe-
Unexpectedly, the man turned, staring straight at where Ingrid was spying from behind parted curtains. She took a half step back, and shivered, pulling her sweater tight about her. What strange eyes... , she thought, but before she could get a good look at him, the man looked away and knocked again at Mr. Lupin's door. Why doesn't use he use the buzzer? she wondered, twining the cord of the handheld vacuum nervously with her fingers. Then the door opened, and the man walked inside.
Hmmm, Ingrid thought. He looks familiar. Maybe he's visited Mr. Lupin before? But how could anyone forget that face, so... so gaunt. Shadowed, even under the light Mr. Lupin turned on at night (to ward off ghosts, he laughingly had told her).
Ingrid flicked the curtains back into place and put the vacuum away. Perhaps she should call her husband at work. No, she thought. He would just tell her that she was overreacting. Besides, Mr. Lupin's visitor was probably just a poor artist, or perhaps he was suffering from some sort of illness. Something like that. Her husband would just ask her to be kind; stop spying on the neighbors. Ingrid gazed out the windows again, taking in the clean street lined with modest houses and their postage-stamp front yards.
An imperious meow called her out of her thoughts. She smiled down at the cat as it padded to the door and looked up at her, tail slowly swishing back and forth. Oh, yes, she thought. Must not forget to let Rex outside for the night.
His name was Rex, and he was a Tiger. Roar!
When the Giantess opened the door, Rex leapt out into the twilight. He slipped through the shadows of a bush, head low, ears flicking every which way to catch the last sounds of the dying day. This tiger is on the prowl, he thought, and gave a little growl of happiness.
It was time to make the rounds of his territory, which encompassed not just the house he slept in during the day, but also three other Giant houses. For example, the house right over there belonged to him because its Giant owner belonged to him. That is because the Giant fed him cream every time Rex showed up, and Rex had rubbed his face against the Giant many times, so the Giant smelled not just of the night breeze, tea, chocolate, and dust, but also of Rex.
But tonight there was a strange sound coming from the house of this Giant. Rex slinked over, and scratched at the door. It was opened a moment later by a Giant who did not smell familiar, one who had not been marked as Property of Rex.
This Giant knelt down before Rex, sniffed, and then growled. This Giant did not smell of tea and chocolate and other safe things, but of dog. Rex hissed and took a swipe at the Giant's snout.
"Sirius, watch out for... the cat," said Rex's Giant, finally coming into view. Rex darted to him and hid behind his legs as the strange Giant grabbed his snout and whimpered. Rex's Giant sighed, but said, "Hold still, this will only take a moment." He waved a the stick that he carried with him at the smelly Giant's snout and the pathetic sounds stopped. Rex huffed. Dogs and their sticks.
"This is Rex," Rex's Giant said, pointing at him. "And Rex, this is Padfoot." The strange Giant narrowed his eyes as Rex rubbed his face against his Giant's hands, marking him again as Property of Rex. Rex's Giant picked him up and carried him to another room, the one full of dusty cushions and soft couches. The strange Giant followed.
"A cat?"
"Crookshanks, Sirius."
"Point."
Rex purred as his Giant scratched him behind his ears, just the way that he liked it. The two Giants stood looking at each other in silence for several moments.
"Remus, old buddy, old pal... I need to stay here for a while."
The hands on Rex stopped moving. Rex pushed his head against it. Nothing.
"Dumbledore?"
"Yeah."
Rex jumped out of the Giant's arms and onto the window seat. The wide window was pushed up to let in a cool night breeze. He watched the silent Giants in their tense postures, and was distinctly and uncomfortably reminded of dogs circling each other. There was a fight coming, Rex decided, and so he left.
His name was Sirius, and he was waiting for an answer.
He wanted to hold Remus again, like he did that night last year in the Shrieking Shack. But the confidence from being half-mad and overjoyed was not so easy to find when he was sitting in a somber little living room that looked so familiar. Maybe just a little older, more worn. The years hadn't changed this house as much as trickled a layer of dust and sadness over the furniture - over his over his bright, laughing Moony.
A muffled thump from outside the window startled Remus and signaled the exit of the demon cat. He looked up and said, quite gently, "Yes, of course you may stay."
Sirius nodded. What should he say now? Should he tell Remus how he can't quite remember the texture of Remus's hair under his fingers; how he feels like he's forgotten the crinkle of Remus's eyes when Sirius made him laugh; how he never could forget the taste of bitterness Sirius saw Moony kissing Olivia Vinet behind Greenhouse Two some sixteen years ago?
But for all the things that he could have said, Sirius found himself (heart-thumping, hands sweaty, head dizzy) frozen with the words stuck somewhere thirteen years ago. The man in front of him was no longer the sweet young man that Sirius had once felt so much for. This man was a stranger. This was Remus; polite and distant and nothing at all like the Moony Sirius almost remembers. So he said nothing more than a mumbled "Thanks," and tried not to let his disappointment show.
His name was Remus, and he had an escaped convict in his sitting room.
Remus avoided the sad gaze from the shell of a man that stood before him. Remus couldn't read him anymore - this was not his old friend come back to save him from lonely days and cold nights. This Sirius was just a dark shadow of his past. Perhaps they both were.
"The guest room is-"
"I know where the guest room is, Remus. Thank you." He gave Remus a faint smile, almost mocking in such formal tones. Sirius stood quickly and walked past Remus and out of the room. Remus was sure that the gentle touch brush against his hair had been the breeze from the open window.
Her name was not pronounceable, and she was just waking up for a night of hunting.
She watched from her carefully spun parlour as a Man slowly walked into her room. He shut the door quietly behind him, dropping his satchel. The Man stood very still for a long time, just staring at the frayed blanket on the neatly made bed. Suddenly, he turned around and left the room, steps quick and determined.
There was a tug at her web. Prey.
His name was Remus, and he is trying to think.
Remus was still sitting on the worn sofa (the one that used to make him blush) when Sirius came back into the room. He looked up as long fingers came gently down to run through his hair, brush an ear, and finally rest behind his neck. Sirius sat down beside him, slipping the fingers of his other hand through Remus's. Their faces were inches apart. Remus took an unsteady breath and started to ask what exactly Sirius thought he was doing.
"Remus," Sirius whispered... no, breathed over his lips.
Remus didn't move to push him away. Despite the hollow echoes he heard when Sirius said his name in that tone. It was how Sirius always said his name, right before he... But that Sirius was long gone, stolen by the Dementors, life, injustice. This man before him was a sad parody, a poorly crafted replica.
When Sirius leaned in close and kissed him, his doubts fluttered, sighed, and quieted. For now, at least, Remus wanted to remember what it had been like. But this kiss wasn't filled with thoughtless joy. It asked questions Remus couldn't answer alone. Remus pulled back, searching the unfamiliar lines on his face, the unfamiliar pain in his eyes, for a hint.
Was Sirius lonely? Trying to recapture the past? Acting on half-remembered cues and lines from a lifetime away? Did he even know what they had? Did he even know what love-
"Please, Remus."
"You...you still...?" Remus questioned. Still want me. Still need me. Still...
A pause while Sirius avoided his eyes. "I think - Sometimes," he finally answered cryptically.
Sometimes.
Sometimes Remus almost remembers what it was like to love another - to feel happiness instead of loss at a friend's touch. Would sometimes be enough? Maybe. He leaned in to meet another kiss, willing to give it a try.