FIC: These Bright Moments for inksheddings
Title: These Bright Moments
Author/Artist: cindergal
Recipient: inksheddings
Rating: PG13
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *none *
Word count: 1055
Summary: Even amidst the darkness, there are these bright moments.
Notes: Many thanks to slaymesoftly for the beta. Happy Holidays inksheddings! I hope you enjoy it.
It’s early December, and the air has taken on a decidedly winter chill. Grimmauld Place seems draftier than usual, and even the roaring fire Sirius has built in the fireplace doesn’t do much to ward off the cold. But when it begins to snow some time in the middle of the afternoon, Sirius can’t help but go outside, despite his orders to stay in the house. He transforms as soon as he’s out the door, and must spend near on an hour running about the back garden, rolling around in the snow.
Though it’s growing dark and he’s worn himself out now, he can’t bring himself to go back inside just yet. He stands on the back porch, watching the still falling snow obscure his tracks so quickly it’s like he was never there at all. Covered in a blanket of white, even that neglected patch of weeds looks clean and fresh and beautiful. He hopes the snow sticks around awhile. At least till Christmas.
Because Christmas is coming no matter what. Even Voldemort can’t stop that, and Sirius is determined to celebrate despite the circumstances. He’s started preparing already, airing out bedrooms and cleaning out every dark corner, of which Grimmauld Place seems to have more than its fair share, because soon the house will be full of people again. Harry will be here, and the Weasleys. There will be food and music and laughter, and even the oppressive gloom of Grimmauld Place will be no match for the massive tree Sirius plans to have hauled into the parlor, all lit up with fairy lights. He smiles to himself just thinking about it.
“Well, something’s certainly got you in a good mood.”
Sirius turns, his smile growing wider when he sees Remus standing in the doorway. He’s been gone for over a week, unable to owl lest it be intercepted and give away his whereabouts. Sirius has been worried sick, a state that he has unfortunately become accustomed to of late. But now Remus is here, and looking well, if a little the worse for wear. Remus wraps his old, patched robe more tightly around him as he steps closer, and Sirius can see that he’s exhausted. Every time he goes away on one of his missions, he returns a bit more worn around the edges.
“Remus! You’re home.”
Poor Remus, having to make drafty, depressing, vermin-infested Grimmauld Place his home. Sirius has no choice, but Remus is only here because of him. And the truth is, it’s only bearable for Sirius because of Remus. He truly doesn’t know what he’d do without him. The endless hours Sirius endures rattling around the house with only Kreacher and a bottle of fire whiskey for company benefit neither his sanity nor his temper. And Remus, his only respite, bears the brunt of it whenever he starts to lose either.
*
“I hate to leave you like this.” Remus reaches for him, but Sirius sidesteps his embrace in favor of pouring another drink.
“Like what? Drunk again? That’s what they’ve all been telling you, haven’t they? Poor Sirius, something really must be done about him. But don’t worry, you’re not my keeper. I release you from that responsibility. Besides, I’ve a long way to go before I’m anywhere close to drunk. You’ll be halfway to Bulgaria or wherever the hell by then.”
Remus lowers his head, a look of deep sadness on his face. “Your keeper? I’d hoped I was more than that. And upset, is what I meant. Sirius, I do know how hard it is for you, being forced to stay here in this house…”
Remus’ infinite patience is grating, and some small, dark part of Sirius takes a cruel satisfaction in knowing that he’s hurting him, so he sticks the knife in deeper. “Oh you do, do you? Really? Did you grow up here? Did your mum hex your name off the family tree? Are you imprisoned yet again for crimes you didn’t commit? No? I thought not.”
Sirius regrets his words even as he says them. It’s like he’s standing apart from himself, watching helplessly as he lashes out at the one person who does understand him.
“No,” Remus says quietly. “I’m not forced to be here. I’m actually here because I want to be.”
*
Sirius looks out across the garden again, because he can’t meet Remus’ eyes. Moonlight and starlight reflect off the snow, which glitters like fairy dust in the darkness. He tries to form some sort of apology in his mind, but he’s never been very good at saying sorry. Remus’ voice interrupts his thoughts.
“It must be the snow that’s got you smiling. You always have loved snow,” Remus says softly, and when Sirius turns to look at him, Remus is gazing at him with such adoration that it nearly takes his breath away.
I always have loved you, Sirius thinks. A memory rushes back to him of a much younger Remus in a stocking cap with red cheeks and laughing eyes, so beautiful that Sirius couldn’t help but drag him down behind a snow bank and snog him senseless.
It was a good idea then, and it’s a good idea now, Sirius figures. He grabs Remus’ hand and pulls him, laughing, out into the middle of the garden before throwing his arms around his neck and kissing him. Remus’ lips are warm against his cold ones, and he tastes of tea and honey and home. They are standing in several inches of snow, but a warmth blossoms in Sirius’ chest that he can feel traveling through his limbs, all the way to his toes.
“I’m glad you’re here, Moony,” Sirius says, and he hopes Remus understands what he means. That Sirius is not just happy for tonight, but for every night. For every moment. For putting up with Kreacher and doxies and Sirius’ dark moods. For everything.
Remus smiles and presses a hand to his cheek. “I wouldn’t ever want to be anywhere else,” he says, before kissing him again.
The snow continues to fall around them, a soft mantel of white covering all the ugliness of the world. It will melt eventually, Sirius knows. But there is joy in knowing that here, in the midst of it all this darkness, they can have these bright moments.
Author/Artist: cindergal
Recipient: inksheddings
Rating: PG13
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *none *
Word count: 1055
Summary: Even amidst the darkness, there are these bright moments.
Notes: Many thanks to slaymesoftly for the beta. Happy Holidays inksheddings! I hope you enjoy it.
It’s early December, and the air has taken on a decidedly winter chill. Grimmauld Place seems draftier than usual, and even the roaring fire Sirius has built in the fireplace doesn’t do much to ward off the cold. But when it begins to snow some time in the middle of the afternoon, Sirius can’t help but go outside, despite his orders to stay in the house. He transforms as soon as he’s out the door, and must spend near on an hour running about the back garden, rolling around in the snow.
Though it’s growing dark and he’s worn himself out now, he can’t bring himself to go back inside just yet. He stands on the back porch, watching the still falling snow obscure his tracks so quickly it’s like he was never there at all. Covered in a blanket of white, even that neglected patch of weeds looks clean and fresh and beautiful. He hopes the snow sticks around awhile. At least till Christmas.
Because Christmas is coming no matter what. Even Voldemort can’t stop that, and Sirius is determined to celebrate despite the circumstances. He’s started preparing already, airing out bedrooms and cleaning out every dark corner, of which Grimmauld Place seems to have more than its fair share, because soon the house will be full of people again. Harry will be here, and the Weasleys. There will be food and music and laughter, and even the oppressive gloom of Grimmauld Place will be no match for the massive tree Sirius plans to have hauled into the parlor, all lit up with fairy lights. He smiles to himself just thinking about it.
“Well, something’s certainly got you in a good mood.”
Sirius turns, his smile growing wider when he sees Remus standing in the doorway. He’s been gone for over a week, unable to owl lest it be intercepted and give away his whereabouts. Sirius has been worried sick, a state that he has unfortunately become accustomed to of late. But now Remus is here, and looking well, if a little the worse for wear. Remus wraps his old, patched robe more tightly around him as he steps closer, and Sirius can see that he’s exhausted. Every time he goes away on one of his missions, he returns a bit more worn around the edges.
“Remus! You’re home.”
Poor Remus, having to make drafty, depressing, vermin-infested Grimmauld Place his home. Sirius has no choice, but Remus is only here because of him. And the truth is, it’s only bearable for Sirius because of Remus. He truly doesn’t know what he’d do without him. The endless hours Sirius endures rattling around the house with only Kreacher and a bottle of fire whiskey for company benefit neither his sanity nor his temper. And Remus, his only respite, bears the brunt of it whenever he starts to lose either.
*
“I hate to leave you like this.” Remus reaches for him, but Sirius sidesteps his embrace in favor of pouring another drink.
“Like what? Drunk again? That’s what they’ve all been telling you, haven’t they? Poor Sirius, something really must be done about him. But don’t worry, you’re not my keeper. I release you from that responsibility. Besides, I’ve a long way to go before I’m anywhere close to drunk. You’ll be halfway to Bulgaria or wherever the hell by then.”
Remus lowers his head, a look of deep sadness on his face. “Your keeper? I’d hoped I was more than that. And upset, is what I meant. Sirius, I do know how hard it is for you, being forced to stay here in this house…”
Remus’ infinite patience is grating, and some small, dark part of Sirius takes a cruel satisfaction in knowing that he’s hurting him, so he sticks the knife in deeper. “Oh you do, do you? Really? Did you grow up here? Did your mum hex your name off the family tree? Are you imprisoned yet again for crimes you didn’t commit? No? I thought not.”
Sirius regrets his words even as he says them. It’s like he’s standing apart from himself, watching helplessly as he lashes out at the one person who does understand him.
“No,” Remus says quietly. “I’m not forced to be here. I’m actually here because I want to be.”
*
Sirius looks out across the garden again, because he can’t meet Remus’ eyes. Moonlight and starlight reflect off the snow, which glitters like fairy dust in the darkness. He tries to form some sort of apology in his mind, but he’s never been very good at saying sorry. Remus’ voice interrupts his thoughts.
“It must be the snow that’s got you smiling. You always have loved snow,” Remus says softly, and when Sirius turns to look at him, Remus is gazing at him with such adoration that it nearly takes his breath away.
I always have loved you, Sirius thinks. A memory rushes back to him of a much younger Remus in a stocking cap with red cheeks and laughing eyes, so beautiful that Sirius couldn’t help but drag him down behind a snow bank and snog him senseless.
It was a good idea then, and it’s a good idea now, Sirius figures. He grabs Remus’ hand and pulls him, laughing, out into the middle of the garden before throwing his arms around his neck and kissing him. Remus’ lips are warm against his cold ones, and he tastes of tea and honey and home. They are standing in several inches of snow, but a warmth blossoms in Sirius’ chest that he can feel traveling through his limbs, all the way to his toes.
“I’m glad you’re here, Moony,” Sirius says, and he hopes Remus understands what he means. That Sirius is not just happy for tonight, but for every night. For every moment. For putting up with Kreacher and doxies and Sirius’ dark moods. For everything.
Remus smiles and presses a hand to his cheek. “I wouldn’t ever want to be anywhere else,” he says, before kissing him again.
The snow continues to fall around them, a soft mantel of white covering all the ugliness of the world. It will melt eventually, Sirius knows. But there is joy in knowing that here, in the midst of it all this darkness, they can have these bright moments.