seasons: HP, Remus/Sirius
seasons
Harry Potter - Remus/Sirius
PG-13
page 246
for statelines
i.
they're too tired to apparate and so they shuffle down to the underground for the trip back to order headquarters. the train is overwhelmingly loud, and jostles them together, the two of them limp around corners, rocking with the brakes. at waterloo a clutch of teenagers climb on, with leather jackets and studded ears, laughing and shoving and stumbling. one of the boys stares with wide dark eyes and sirius curls his arm around remus' thin shoulders. we should be like that, he thinks. we should have that.
remus is asleep.
ii.
every day they use less magic in the flat. their wands have become weapons, and it is strange to cast a housecleaning spell two hours after the killing curse. they are trying to exist in parallel universes - in one, boys with blue hair and wristcuffs joke on the train, oblivious. in the other, fabian and gideon are buried in sad brown coffins in a far crumbling cemetary.
so now remus does the dishes by hand, sweater pooled above his elbows, silverware chiming gently. and sirius will tuck his forehead against the back of remus' neck, and sometimes remus will wipe his hands dry and turn around, shoving sirius against the wall, pushing his cold hands under sirius' shirt, their mouths messy and wet and warm.
and sometimes remus will sigh and rinse a cup out, and lay it on the counter to dry.
iii.
everything swells with the weight of the water. the clouds burst and fat heavy raindrops bloom, spreading dull and wide.
inside, they leave their socks over the edge of the oven and hang coats above radiators. lighting the fireplace is technically too dangerous, but finally, sirius begins to burn things. first to go are piles of the daily prophet, with their twenty-four point proclamations of doom. then the terrible moldy curtains, old quidditch magazines, and pants with irreparable holes.
remus joins in at some point. it's my birthday, he says, throwing a stack of old maps.
sirius is stuck between i love you and i'm sorry, so he just says, happy birthday, and stretches his palms towards the flames.
iv.
then summer starts to unfold, and the light takes up more of the sky. at night they leave the windows open and the sheets around their ankles.
and james calls sirius down to headquarters, and says ridiculous things - remus and traitor and spy.
i know this is hard for you- james starts.
i can't - i don't even believe this, sirius spits. get wormtail to be your secret-keeper, if i'm holed up with the bloody enemy.
when sirius gets home, remus is asleep at the kitchen table. books are spread out all around him, pages flapping like wings. and sirius stands there for a long time, and is afraid.
& thanks to vegetariansushi for her awesome instant beta skills. <3.
Harry Potter - Remus/Sirius
PG-13
page 246
for statelines
i.
they're too tired to apparate and so they shuffle down to the underground for the trip back to order headquarters. the train is overwhelmingly loud, and jostles them together, the two of them limp around corners, rocking with the brakes. at waterloo a clutch of teenagers climb on, with leather jackets and studded ears, laughing and shoving and stumbling. one of the boys stares with wide dark eyes and sirius curls his arm around remus' thin shoulders. we should be like that, he thinks. we should have that.
remus is asleep.
ii.
every day they use less magic in the flat. their wands have become weapons, and it is strange to cast a housecleaning spell two hours after the killing curse. they are trying to exist in parallel universes - in one, boys with blue hair and wristcuffs joke on the train, oblivious. in the other, fabian and gideon are buried in sad brown coffins in a far crumbling cemetary.
so now remus does the dishes by hand, sweater pooled above his elbows, silverware chiming gently. and sirius will tuck his forehead against the back of remus' neck, and sometimes remus will wipe his hands dry and turn around, shoving sirius against the wall, pushing his cold hands under sirius' shirt, their mouths messy and wet and warm.
and sometimes remus will sigh and rinse a cup out, and lay it on the counter to dry.
iii.
everything swells with the weight of the water. the clouds burst and fat heavy raindrops bloom, spreading dull and wide.
inside, they leave their socks over the edge of the oven and hang coats above radiators. lighting the fireplace is technically too dangerous, but finally, sirius begins to burn things. first to go are piles of the daily prophet, with their twenty-four point proclamations of doom. then the terrible moldy curtains, old quidditch magazines, and pants with irreparable holes.
remus joins in at some point. it's my birthday, he says, throwing a stack of old maps.
sirius is stuck between i love you and i'm sorry, so he just says, happy birthday, and stretches his palms towards the flames.
iv.
then summer starts to unfold, and the light takes up more of the sky. at night they leave the windows open and the sheets around their ankles.
and james calls sirius down to headquarters, and says ridiculous things - remus and traitor and spy.
i know this is hard for you- james starts.
i can't - i don't even believe this, sirius spits. get wormtail to be your secret-keeper, if i'm holed up with the bloody enemy.
when sirius gets home, remus is asleep at the kitchen table. books are spread out all around him, pages flapping like wings. and sirius stands there for a long time, and is afraid.
& thanks to vegetariansushi for her awesome instant beta skills. <3.