Full Circle (La Onza)(7 December)
Title: Full Circle
Author: La Onza
House: Hufflepuff
Date/Challenge: 7 Dec - time does not change us
Character/Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Genre: LLAL
Rating: PG
I actually started writing this little thing a couple of weeks ago, but it fits the challenge very well.
When Sirius woke, the internal clock that had been honed by long months as a fugitive told him it was still the dead of night, but he pushed himself to a sitting position in the narrow bed where he had collapsed with exhaustion and looked around.
The heavy drapes of the narrow windows were closed against the moon, but a fire still burned low in the grate. Remus sat in the armchair, gazing dreamily into the embers, while above his knees a tiny point of light glimmered and danced.
Pulling the age-softened dressing robe that had belonged to Remus's father tightly around his wasted body, Sirius rose and approached him. He realized that what Remus held in his lap was his own tattered gray robe. Remus had enchanted a golden needle that was busily mending the worst of the rents.
"You don't have to do that," Sirius said, a bit embarrassed.
Remus stirred and blinked up at him. "I like to feel useful," he replied, with a tender and rueful irony.
"I don't remember you being so...domestic," Sirius ragged him, smiling, as he sat on the footstool.
"You can see how it is," Remus said, "Darning clothes...I've lived the life of a monk, really." The words themselves seemed heartbreaking; but his smile was real, and the light in his tired eyes said, more clearly than words, that his monkishness was in fact a clever disguise, a private joke that only the two of them would understand.
Author: La Onza
House: Hufflepuff
Date/Challenge: 7 Dec - time does not change us
Character/Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Genre: LLAL
Rating: PG
I actually started writing this little thing a couple of weeks ago, but it fits the challenge very well.
When Sirius woke, the internal clock that had been honed by long months as a fugitive told him it was still the dead of night, but he pushed himself to a sitting position in the narrow bed where he had collapsed with exhaustion and looked around.
The heavy drapes of the narrow windows were closed against the moon, but a fire still burned low in the grate. Remus sat in the armchair, gazing dreamily into the embers, while above his knees a tiny point of light glimmered and danced.
Pulling the age-softened dressing robe that had belonged to Remus's father tightly around his wasted body, Sirius rose and approached him. He realized that what Remus held in his lap was his own tattered gray robe. Remus had enchanted a golden needle that was busily mending the worst of the rents.
"You don't have to do that," Sirius said, a bit embarrassed.
Remus stirred and blinked up at him. "I like to feel useful," he replied, with a tender and rueful irony.
"I don't remember you being so...domestic," Sirius ragged him, smiling, as he sat on the footstool.
"You can see how it is," Remus said, "Darning clothes...I've lived the life of a monk, really." The words themselves seemed heartbreaking; but his smile was real, and the light in his tired eyes said, more clearly than words, that his monkishness was in fact a clever disguise, a private joke that only the two of them would understand.