Fic: Frost
Title: Frost (prelude to the season of ice)
Remix of Black Ice by ladyblack888
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Rating: PG
In the early weeks of winter, in the slow, shivering exhale of November mornings, before freezing rain slicks roads with black ice, frost descends like crystalline mist to wrap the surface of all things in a shroud of burning stillness. This is how winter begins, with a sigh and a settling, the world awakens one morning to find a soft chill upon its skin and knows, then, the fires inside are soon to be rising and warming the lengthening nights.
In the prewinter days, Sirius wakes, facing the window and the swirls of ice crystals spiraling across the glass. This, and the steadily increasing pile of parchment in the dormitory corner, is how he knows that the cold is coming and is not surprised to find the common room fire glowing soon after. In these days which are the seeds from which snowfalls spring, Sirius wakes once facing, not the window in its icy gauze, but a rarer sort of view: there is a gap in the hangings of the next bed, Remus' face framed in falling scarlet. And Sirius stills, soft and slow like an early winter morning, the breath of something wholly new settles over him like lace, like frost spiraling across his skin.
This is how the season begins, with frostfall, a prelude to the cold burning that drives them indoors, inside, on bitter nights. Sirius feels it drift over him and sink in with a pleasant prickle across all uncovered surfaces. This is how the season begins, the season of frost, of cooling damp on his spine at all times, because now he wakes every morning to a gap in the bed hangings, better than any sunrise. Now he takes Remus' hand, surface touch etching ice lines like the crystalline lace crawling up the morning window. The burning is constant and incandescent, sublime. Their lips and fingertips are red, from cold or heat there is no knowing.
November's exhale gives way to December's cry, a season of sheltered fires at the side of which they are settled, a blanket around them, skin rising under the touch of their very own frost.
:shadowen:
Remix of Black Ice by ladyblack888
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Rating: PG
In the early weeks of winter, in the slow, shivering exhale of November mornings, before freezing rain slicks roads with black ice, frost descends like crystalline mist to wrap the surface of all things in a shroud of burning stillness. This is how winter begins, with a sigh and a settling, the world awakens one morning to find a soft chill upon its skin and knows, then, the fires inside are soon to be rising and warming the lengthening nights.
In the prewinter days, Sirius wakes, facing the window and the swirls of ice crystals spiraling across the glass. This, and the steadily increasing pile of parchment in the dormitory corner, is how he knows that the cold is coming and is not surprised to find the common room fire glowing soon after. In these days which are the seeds from which snowfalls spring, Sirius wakes once facing, not the window in its icy gauze, but a rarer sort of view: there is a gap in the hangings of the next bed, Remus' face framed in falling scarlet. And Sirius stills, soft and slow like an early winter morning, the breath of something wholly new settles over him like lace, like frost spiraling across his skin.
This is how the season begins, with frostfall, a prelude to the cold burning that drives them indoors, inside, on bitter nights. Sirius feels it drift over him and sink in with a pleasant prickle across all uncovered surfaces. This is how the season begins, the season of frost, of cooling damp on his spine at all times, because now he wakes every morning to a gap in the bed hangings, better than any sunrise. Now he takes Remus' hand, surface touch etching ice lines like the crystalline lace crawling up the morning window. The burning is constant and incandescent, sublime. Their lips and fingertips are red, from cold or heat there is no knowing.
November's exhale gives way to December's cry, a season of sheltered fires at the side of which they are settled, a blanket around them, skin rising under the touch of their very own frost.
:shadowen: