dogdaysofsummer: North Downs '76
Title: North Downs '76
Rating: PG13 (soft)
Characters: Remus, Sirius
Pairings: Remus/Sirius, mention of Lily/James
Summary: "From this distance, Remus can feel to the bones the stories that the other man’s body tells. There is a hinge in his warm breath and a hitch in his movements and when he sighs it sings of sorrow. Remus knows the tragedy and he has seen the temper. All the last words of every goodbye are burned into his memory."
Author's Note: Written for the dogdaysofsummer August 3rd challenge.
“It’s not getting any cooler.”
The bedroom is dark, the candles unlit. Sirius is at the window and against a square of burnt dusk, he seems nothing more than a suggestion. In this light the wealth and severity of twelve Grimmauld are exaggerated, the shadows carved deep and the mahogany furniture black beyond tangibility.
A scattering of brittle paper stars hangs from the ceiling. It is the only indication that a child has ever lived here. In this still heat, they have no sway, no magic. Remus imagines a much younger Sirius tracing them with ink, pinning them above his bed; a secret hope to which he can fall asleep. Remus goes over to the candles.
“No,” Sirius says as Remus raises a hand to them. “No. Leave them. It’s too hot.”
Denied the light, Remus searches for contact instead. His arms circle Sirius’ waist and without words they find a relative peace in closing the space between them. Remus moves his hands along the ridges of Sirius’ shoulder blades, down the narrow stairway of his spine. The body beneath his fingertips feels so small. Remus shuts his eyes and presses closer, temple to temple.
From this distance, Remus can feel to the bones the stories that the other man’s body tells. There is a hinge in his warm breath and a hitch in his movements and when he sighs it sings of sorrow. Remus knows the tragedy and he has seen the temper. All the last words of every goodbye are burned into his memory.
“You look sad.” Sirius’ voice does not rise above a hoarse croak, but Remus is used to that by now. Since Azkaban Sirius sounds as though he spends the days in silence. Words seem unfamiliar in his mouth.
“I’m not sad,” Remus replies. “Just old.”
And Sirius smiles very faintly at that. He takes Remus’ hands and turns back toward the window as though looking for something. The sun has been claimed by the horizon.
“It’s not getting any cooler,” Sirius says.
“Well, you have to be patient.”
“Can you remember the last time it rained?”
Remus thinks for a moment. “No,” he says. “No, I can’t.”
“If it stays like this the whole country is going to go up in flames again.” Sirius releases Remus’ hands from his own. Remus feels the sweat cool on his palms.
“You say that as though you wouldn’t mind if it did?”
Sirius just smirks, and it seems an echo calling from years ago. “So, you remember that night we spent in North Downs, back in ‘76?”
“Of course.” They’d just finished school and everything was falling either into place or just falling to shambles. James and Lily were planning their nuptials, Sirius was working for the Order and Remus was growing pessimistic. They’d all been so young.
It was early August and Remus had just lost his third job when Sirius had turned to him and said, “Let’s just leave. Just for the night. We’ll go out and find a place. Some place where no one will think to look for us. It’ll be me and you, and nothing can follow us.” The night itself is hazy now, but Remus recalls a rundown cottage, red wine, laughter and sex.
And then there was the fire. It was either the fourth or fifth that season, depending on who you heard it from. Remus smelled the smoke first, but it was the droning Muggle sirens that made Sirius run out into the front yard for a better view, wearing only his trousers. Remus had followed. They took a half-empty bottle of Merlot along with them and spent the hours til dawn clinging close. They shared the Merlot and ignored the stink of smoke and hot wine and sweat.
“You know,” Remus had said, taking a swig from the bottle. “We could very well be watching the deaths of a hundred people right now.” The other man was propped up against the cottage and Remus was sprawled out in his arms. He looked up to see where Sirius’ gaze was directed, but all he saw was shadow.
Sirius shifted under him slightly. “S’possible,” he said after a moment, sounding splendidly drunk. “I think it’s missed the town, though. Mostly in the forest area...o’er there. You know. Trees. Forest.” He tightened his hold around Remus’ shoulders. “Doesn’t matter, though.”
“Doesn’t matter?”
Sirius was silent for a long time and when he finally spoke, it was not to answer Remus’ question. “I love you.” And suddenly his tone was very urgent. “I need to tell you that, Moony, because I don’t do it often enough. And even if I said it every minute from now until the day I die, it wouldn’t be enough, okay? I don’t need you to just hear it, right? I need you to know it. So please...just know it. Please.”
When Remus turned he saw that Sirius’ eyes were filled with tears and the distant fire. Three weeks later, the world ended.
“Do you remember what I said to you that night?” Sirius moves close to him now and they are both shocked into the present.
“Yes.” Remus nods and moves his hand to the back of Sirius’ neck. It is slick and clammy but he does not mind. The other man holds his gaze. Sweat and a kiss cling to his bottom lip and Remus moves forward to collect both. It’s far too hot for touching, but he finds he likes it that way. The air around them smolders and skin is enough to sear. There is something dire and dangerous about living in this weather.
Sirius sighs into his hair, kisses his shoulder. “We were really in love then, weren't we?”
Rating: PG13 (soft)
Characters: Remus, Sirius
Pairings: Remus/Sirius, mention of Lily/James
Summary: "From this distance, Remus can feel to the bones the stories that the other man’s body tells. There is a hinge in his warm breath and a hitch in his movements and when he sighs it sings of sorrow. Remus knows the tragedy and he has seen the temper. All the last words of every goodbye are burned into his memory."
Author's Note: Written for the dogdaysofsummer August 3rd challenge.
“It’s not getting any cooler.”
The bedroom is dark, the candles unlit. Sirius is at the window and against a square of burnt dusk, he seems nothing more than a suggestion. In this light the wealth and severity of twelve Grimmauld are exaggerated, the shadows carved deep and the mahogany furniture black beyond tangibility.
A scattering of brittle paper stars hangs from the ceiling. It is the only indication that a child has ever lived here. In this still heat, they have no sway, no magic. Remus imagines a much younger Sirius tracing them with ink, pinning them above his bed; a secret hope to which he can fall asleep. Remus goes over to the candles.
“No,” Sirius says as Remus raises a hand to them. “No. Leave them. It’s too hot.”
Denied the light, Remus searches for contact instead. His arms circle Sirius’ waist and without words they find a relative peace in closing the space between them. Remus moves his hands along the ridges of Sirius’ shoulder blades, down the narrow stairway of his spine. The body beneath his fingertips feels so small. Remus shuts his eyes and presses closer, temple to temple.
From this distance, Remus can feel to the bones the stories that the other man’s body tells. There is a hinge in his warm breath and a hitch in his movements and when he sighs it sings of sorrow. Remus knows the tragedy and he has seen the temper. All the last words of every goodbye are burned into his memory.
“You look sad.” Sirius’ voice does not rise above a hoarse croak, but Remus is used to that by now. Since Azkaban Sirius sounds as though he spends the days in silence. Words seem unfamiliar in his mouth.
“I’m not sad,” Remus replies. “Just old.”
And Sirius smiles very faintly at that. He takes Remus’ hands and turns back toward the window as though looking for something. The sun has been claimed by the horizon.
“It’s not getting any cooler,” Sirius says.
“Well, you have to be patient.”
“Can you remember the last time it rained?”
Remus thinks for a moment. “No,” he says. “No, I can’t.”
“If it stays like this the whole country is going to go up in flames again.” Sirius releases Remus’ hands from his own. Remus feels the sweat cool on his palms.
“You say that as though you wouldn’t mind if it did?”
Sirius just smirks, and it seems an echo calling from years ago. “So, you remember that night we spent in North Downs, back in ‘76?”
“Of course.” They’d just finished school and everything was falling either into place or just falling to shambles. James and Lily were planning their nuptials, Sirius was working for the Order and Remus was growing pessimistic. They’d all been so young.
It was early August and Remus had just lost his third job when Sirius had turned to him and said, “Let’s just leave. Just for the night. We’ll go out and find a place. Some place where no one will think to look for us. It’ll be me and you, and nothing can follow us.” The night itself is hazy now, but Remus recalls a rundown cottage, red wine, laughter and sex.
And then there was the fire. It was either the fourth or fifth that season, depending on who you heard it from. Remus smelled the smoke first, but it was the droning Muggle sirens that made Sirius run out into the front yard for a better view, wearing only his trousers. Remus had followed. They took a half-empty bottle of Merlot along with them and spent the hours til dawn clinging close. They shared the Merlot and ignored the stink of smoke and hot wine and sweat.
“You know,” Remus had said, taking a swig from the bottle. “We could very well be watching the deaths of a hundred people right now.” The other man was propped up against the cottage and Remus was sprawled out in his arms. He looked up to see where Sirius’ gaze was directed, but all he saw was shadow.
Sirius shifted under him slightly. “S’possible,” he said after a moment, sounding splendidly drunk. “I think it’s missed the town, though. Mostly in the forest area...o’er there. You know. Trees. Forest.” He tightened his hold around Remus’ shoulders. “Doesn’t matter, though.”
“Doesn’t matter?”
Sirius was silent for a long time and when he finally spoke, it was not to answer Remus’ question. “I love you.” And suddenly his tone was very urgent. “I need to tell you that, Moony, because I don’t do it often enough. And even if I said it every minute from now until the day I die, it wouldn’t be enough, okay? I don’t need you to just hear it, right? I need you to know it. So please...just know it. Please.”
When Remus turned he saw that Sirius’ eyes were filled with tears and the distant fire. Three weeks later, the world ended.
“Do you remember what I said to you that night?” Sirius moves close to him now and they are both shocked into the present.
“Yes.” Remus nods and moves his hand to the back of Sirius’ neck. It is slick and clammy but he does not mind. The other man holds his gaze. Sweat and a kiss cling to his bottom lip and Remus moves forward to collect both. It’s far too hot for touching, but he finds he likes it that way. The air around them smolders and skin is enough to sear. There is something dire and dangerous about living in this weather.
Sirius sighs into his hair, kisses his shoulder. “We were really in love then, weren't we?”