(FIC) No Regrets by Reddwarfer (PG-13) SB/RL
Title: No Regrets.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: SB/RL
Summary: sirius_loving claim # 4: Sirius gets a letter that incites him to run away at 16. Who's the letter from, and, more importantly, what did it say?
Disclaimer: JKR owns the Potterverse.
BETA: minnow_53!! Thanks! You've made this even better!
The parchment barely had time to flutter to the floor before Sirius, trunk in one hand, wand in the other, was halfway out of the house. Sirius always kept his trunk packed in case he had a row with his mother and needed to stay at James’ house until things calmed down. This time, though, he had no intention of returning to Grimmauld Place, ever. If the Potters couldn’t put him up, too bad. He'd live as a Muggle before he ever set foot in that hell-hole again.
He couldn't blame his family this time, he reflected, but there was no way he was going to face them again. Even his mother would notice how distressed he was, and she'd soon pester the truth out of him. Then, they'd probably throw him out anyway, so he might as well go now and save them the trouble.
He stepped on to the street with a new sense of freedom: it was one thing to bicker with his parents, another actually to leave home for good. He signaled for the Knight Bus and decided to head to Diagon Alley before his mother caught wind of his plan. He could take enough money out of his Gringotts account to pay for the rest of his time at Hogwarts and for other essentials. It wasn’t much, but at least he would look good while homeless. Somehow, even after what he’d found out, this seemed an important thing to do. He refused to crumble.
All the same, Sirius realised that his hands were shaking, and he wasn’t as calm as he’d thought. Really, he should have gone straight to James’ house. Peter was probably already there. He should be there too; especially today.
He sat in the Leaky Cauldron and had a Butterbeer as he contemplated what he should do next, and thought of the letter he had just received. He was sweating profusely now, and had to remind himself to breathe every few seconds, because his body suddenly didn’t want to function. He tried his hardest not think of the words scrawled on the thick parchment; they were too horrible to contemplate.
There was so much he wished he could have said or done, but it was too late. He’d always prided himself on living for the moment, never worrying that he might regret his impulses later, but he hadn’t acted on the most important impulse of all. What was the worst that could have happened if he had? Sirius rested his forehead on the sticky, unwashed table. “Everything. Nothing. It doesn’t matter any more.”
A loud clunk on the table shook him from his reverie. He glanced up and saw the bartender pushing a double shot of firewhisky towards him.
“You look like you need this. On the house.” He smiled kindly before going back and waiting on a hag in what looked like a burlap sack.
Sirius swallowed the drink in one quick gulp. He grimaced, the liquid burning his throat as it went down. He stared fixedly at the table, as if it could answer the many questions flitting through his head.
Eventually, he gathered his things and walked over to the Floo. Perhaps James would know what to do. Perhaps James would let him stay there until he got a job. Perhaps he would help him brew a fast-acting poison, so all this pain would disappear.
He Flooed into the Potters’ living room. James was surprised, but pleased to see him.
“Hey, mate. What’s she done now?”
James paused when he saw Sirius’ face. He was used to Sirius Flooing in after a row with his parents, but he was not used to Sirius looking so lost and distraught. James frowned at the piteous creature before him.
“Padfoot, what’s the matter?”
Sirius’s eyes were red and his cheeks pale. If it had been anyone else, James would have said he’d been crying, but the Sirius he knew wouldn’t do that.
“The letter. I got a letter that said…” Sirius trailed off and tried to take a deep breath, calm the intense panic he felt. “Didn’t you get letters too, you and Peter?”
James tilted his head in confusion, “Why should we have had letters?” He raised his voice and called in the direction of the kitchen, “Can one of you come and help me sort this out?”
“Be right there, Prongs.” Remus came through to the living room, smiling when he saw Sirius, but his smile faded when noticed the state he was in.
Sirius gaped at him. His chin wobbled uncharacteristically and he crossed the room in just two strides, grabbed Remus’ face with both hands and kissed him. Remus’ muffled protest died almost instantly, and Sirius felt tentative arms wrap around his waist.
James had no idea what on earth was going on. Sirius had shown up looking like death, and stared at Remus as if he were seeing a ghost before he up and snogged him. Hell, he hadn’t even known that Sirius was bent. He decided to retire to the kitchen to find Peter and make some tea. Yes, tea sounded very good right now.
Remus broke the kiss, bewildered, if thrilled, at such a greeting.
“Padfoot, I’m happy you’re so pleased to see me, but it is sort of out the blue, don’t you think?” Remus forced himself to look at Sirius’ eyes instead of his swollen lips.
Sirius shook his head to clear away the flood of emotion that had swept over him when he saw Remus walk into the room.
“It was the owl. The letter, that is. I got a letter. It said… It said you were dead. That you’d been “put down”. I didn’t know what to do. I ran away from home and came here. I thought I’d lost you.” Sirius hated the way his voice was trembling as he spoke.
“What?” James stood in the doorway. The cup he was holding fell to the ground and broke, spilling tea all over the floor.
Remus frowned. “Where is this letter?”
Sirius thought for a moment. “My room at home.”
James picked up the Floo Powder and disappeared into the grate.
Remus still had his arms around Sirius’ waist. He pressed a chaste kiss on Sirius’ cheek before sinking down on to the sofa. Sirius sat next to him, as close as he could, half-sitting on Remus’ lap. Remus rolled his eyes, but didn’t push him away.
James tumbled back on to the hearth with the offending parchment gripped tightly in his white-knuckled hand. He was furious. “Snape must have sent this. I recognise the handwriting.”
Sirius made to get up, but Remus held him back.
Sirius glared at him. “Let go.”
“Padfoot, sit down. There’s nothing you can do about it now. Prank him when you get back to school.”
James shrugged. “It’s up to you two. I’m going out for a fly. You coming, Padfoot?”
Sirius was about to agree when he felt a warm hand surreptitiously groping his arse. He looked from James, who seemed annoyed and exasperated, to Remus, who was grinning slyly with those tempting lips.
“Er, you go on ahead,” Sirius answered, trying not to yelp as the hand pinched one cheek.
James muttered something that sounded like, ‘Mad, both of them,’ and left the room.
Sirius turned to Remus and smiled. “Where were we?” he asked before he leaned in for another kiss.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: SB/RL
Summary: sirius_loving claim # 4: Sirius gets a letter that incites him to run away at 16. Who's the letter from, and, more importantly, what did it say?
Disclaimer: JKR owns the Potterverse.
BETA: minnow_53!! Thanks! You've made this even better!
The parchment barely had time to flutter to the floor before Sirius, trunk in one hand, wand in the other, was halfway out of the house. Sirius always kept his trunk packed in case he had a row with his mother and needed to stay at James’ house until things calmed down. This time, though, he had no intention of returning to Grimmauld Place, ever. If the Potters couldn’t put him up, too bad. He'd live as a Muggle before he ever set foot in that hell-hole again.
He couldn't blame his family this time, he reflected, but there was no way he was going to face them again. Even his mother would notice how distressed he was, and she'd soon pester the truth out of him. Then, they'd probably throw him out anyway, so he might as well go now and save them the trouble.
He stepped on to the street with a new sense of freedom: it was one thing to bicker with his parents, another actually to leave home for good. He signaled for the Knight Bus and decided to head to Diagon Alley before his mother caught wind of his plan. He could take enough money out of his Gringotts account to pay for the rest of his time at Hogwarts and for other essentials. It wasn’t much, but at least he would look good while homeless. Somehow, even after what he’d found out, this seemed an important thing to do. He refused to crumble.
All the same, Sirius realised that his hands were shaking, and he wasn’t as calm as he’d thought. Really, he should have gone straight to James’ house. Peter was probably already there. He should be there too; especially today.
He sat in the Leaky Cauldron and had a Butterbeer as he contemplated what he should do next, and thought of the letter he had just received. He was sweating profusely now, and had to remind himself to breathe every few seconds, because his body suddenly didn’t want to function. He tried his hardest not think of the words scrawled on the thick parchment; they were too horrible to contemplate.
There was so much he wished he could have said or done, but it was too late. He’d always prided himself on living for the moment, never worrying that he might regret his impulses later, but he hadn’t acted on the most important impulse of all. What was the worst that could have happened if he had? Sirius rested his forehead on the sticky, unwashed table. “Everything. Nothing. It doesn’t matter any more.”
A loud clunk on the table shook him from his reverie. He glanced up and saw the bartender pushing a double shot of firewhisky towards him.
“You look like you need this. On the house.” He smiled kindly before going back and waiting on a hag in what looked like a burlap sack.
Sirius swallowed the drink in one quick gulp. He grimaced, the liquid burning his throat as it went down. He stared fixedly at the table, as if it could answer the many questions flitting through his head.
Eventually, he gathered his things and walked over to the Floo. Perhaps James would know what to do. Perhaps James would let him stay there until he got a job. Perhaps he would help him brew a fast-acting poison, so all this pain would disappear.
He Flooed into the Potters’ living room. James was surprised, but pleased to see him.
“Hey, mate. What’s she done now?”
James paused when he saw Sirius’ face. He was used to Sirius Flooing in after a row with his parents, but he was not used to Sirius looking so lost and distraught. James frowned at the piteous creature before him.
“Padfoot, what’s the matter?”
Sirius’s eyes were red and his cheeks pale. If it had been anyone else, James would have said he’d been crying, but the Sirius he knew wouldn’t do that.
“The letter. I got a letter that said…” Sirius trailed off and tried to take a deep breath, calm the intense panic he felt. “Didn’t you get letters too, you and Peter?”
James tilted his head in confusion, “Why should we have had letters?” He raised his voice and called in the direction of the kitchen, “Can one of you come and help me sort this out?”
“Be right there, Prongs.” Remus came through to the living room, smiling when he saw Sirius, but his smile faded when noticed the state he was in.
Sirius gaped at him. His chin wobbled uncharacteristically and he crossed the room in just two strides, grabbed Remus’ face with both hands and kissed him. Remus’ muffled protest died almost instantly, and Sirius felt tentative arms wrap around his waist.
James had no idea what on earth was going on. Sirius had shown up looking like death, and stared at Remus as if he were seeing a ghost before he up and snogged him. Hell, he hadn’t even known that Sirius was bent. He decided to retire to the kitchen to find Peter and make some tea. Yes, tea sounded very good right now.
Remus broke the kiss, bewildered, if thrilled, at such a greeting.
“Padfoot, I’m happy you’re so pleased to see me, but it is sort of out the blue, don’t you think?” Remus forced himself to look at Sirius’ eyes instead of his swollen lips.
Sirius shook his head to clear away the flood of emotion that had swept over him when he saw Remus walk into the room.
“It was the owl. The letter, that is. I got a letter. It said… It said you were dead. That you’d been “put down”. I didn’t know what to do. I ran away from home and came here. I thought I’d lost you.” Sirius hated the way his voice was trembling as he spoke.
“What?” James stood in the doorway. The cup he was holding fell to the ground and broke, spilling tea all over the floor.
Remus frowned. “Where is this letter?”
Sirius thought for a moment. “My room at home.”
James picked up the Floo Powder and disappeared into the grate.
Remus still had his arms around Sirius’ waist. He pressed a chaste kiss on Sirius’ cheek before sinking down on to the sofa. Sirius sat next to him, as close as he could, half-sitting on Remus’ lap. Remus rolled his eyes, but didn’t push him away.
James tumbled back on to the hearth with the offending parchment gripped tightly in his white-knuckled hand. He was furious. “Snape must have sent this. I recognise the handwriting.”
Sirius made to get up, but Remus held him back.
Sirius glared at him. “Let go.”
“Padfoot, sit down. There’s nothing you can do about it now. Prank him when you get back to school.”
James shrugged. “It’s up to you two. I’m going out for a fly. You coming, Padfoot?”
Sirius was about to agree when he felt a warm hand surreptitiously groping his arse. He looked from James, who seemed annoyed and exasperated, to Remus, who was grinning slyly with those tempting lips.
“Er, you go on ahead,” Sirius answered, trying not to yelp as the hand pinched one cheek.
James muttered something that sounded like, ‘Mad, both of them,’ and left the room.
Sirius turned to Remus and smiled. “Where were we?” he asked before he leaned in for another kiss.