"Summer Nostrum" for _citanul
Title: "Summer Nostrum"
Pairing: Sirius/Ginny
Rating: PG13
Summary: Just a moment during the summer of No. 12 Grimmauld Place. Ginny watches Sirius. That's kind of all there is to it, I'm afraid :[
A/N: This is for _citanul, who guessed correctly that the reason why I wanted Rachel Yamagata's "Worn Me Down" is because I've been sort of obsessed with The O.C.. No worries, it's not a big thing, just a thing that I watch. Like an entertainment thing. No new fandom or anything like that. Anyway, _citanul asked for Sirius/Ginny, PG or PG13.
“There goes another one! Catch him, Sirius-!”
Chair scraped backwards, tottering on two legs, and then clattered to the kitchen floor. Sirius leapt, changing as he went, and when he his the ground, he landed on all fours, pinning the doxy trying desperately to escape. Padfoot snarled, big paws trapping the black-haired fairy, all dog and snapping jaws, growls low in the throat, asserting a warning of dominance in the animal language. The doxy stopped trying to bite him.
“Good hunting, Sirius,” Fred Weasley grinned over his shoulder from where he stood at the sink, hands full trying to contain his own doxy. “Ginny, give the hunter a hand, won’t you?”
Ginny rose from her seat at the table, spraying the doxy with Doxycide, and extracted the motionless fairy. Doxy secure, Sirius changed back, the change from dog to man effortless and graceful, teeth still bared back in a triumphant grin. He swept his hair out of his eyes with a careless hand.
“You’ll want to be careful with those, Fred,” he continued wryly, carrying on their conversation as though there had never been an interruption, “Biting Fairies are ferocious creatures that are very good at escaping.” He deposited the doxy in the sink.
George reappeared in the kitchen, holding another unconscious fairy. “That was close. This one,” he shook the unconscious little figure at them, “almost got into Sirius’ mum’s portrait.”
Sirius’ lips flattened, but he only said, “Get them out of here before your mother comes back and lets me have it about not keeping you lot under control.”
“Right you are,” Fred said hastily, turning to cram the doxies into a bag. The twins had found several doxies that had somehow escaped Molly Weasley’s cleaning rampage in a room on the second floor and brought the creatures down to the kitchen to experiment. “So, Doxycide lasts only an hour or so. Must remember that.”
“Yes, we’ll have to find some way of containing them,” George agreed thoughtfully. “No telling what the Doxycide does to their venom.”
The twins marched out of the kitchen, their heads together, doxies in a bag with an Unbreakable Charm cast on it. No. 12 Grimmauld Place returned to stifling silence.
Sirius went back to lounging in his seat again, doodling on the morning’s copy of The Daily Prophet, wearing that bored and annoyed look he wore so often lately.
Despite Sirius not having gone out in more than a month, and his skin was pale and he was very thin for a man his height, so that he looked under the weather, Ginny could see traces of handsomeness. In flashes-when he smiled, that quirk of lips revealed teeth, and his strong neck when he turned his head as though he had scented something on the wind. His eyes were always very dark but sometimes in moments of cynicism, they gleamed brightly with irony.
And when he was sincerely amused, his laughter was transforming. It changed his face and his body, his being. The lines and planes of his body relaxed and the hollow features of his face became less empty and sharp.
Sirius Black was one of those people who, when they laughed, made everyone else want to laugh along with them. Everyone’s moods seemed to run close to the frequencies of Sirius’ moods.
Ginny sat at the kitchen table, looking at her book, Herbcraft For Horticulturists, and trying to scrutinize Sirius’ profile at the same time. He had that tense, stiff look like one who was just looking for an excuse to bolt…so she remained very still, reading the same blurry sentence over and over again in her peripheral vision.
Finally Sirius heaved a deep groan and dropped the stub of a pencil as he looked over at Ginny.
“Sorry I’m not much company,” he said wearily but kindly, exhaustion deep in his eyes as he looked away again to gaze out the window.
“It’s okay,” she assured him, wishing she could say something else, continue the stilted conversation.
He gave her an unconscious smile. “Yeah, well, can’t imagine anyone making good company in this environment.”
Ginny tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and shrugged.
“You know Harry may be coming to stay here?” he said suddenly.
“What?” Ginny blurted. “Do the others know?”
Sirius shook his head. “Not yet. Arthur doesn’t want to get their hopes up. Dumbledore says he’s safer where he is, and there aren’t any Aurors to be spared for a pick up…”
“If he’s not happy there, he’s going to do something reckless,” Ginny said.
Sirius scratched at a scar near his elbow. “Well, I’m trying to convince them to let him stay here. Voldemort has spies everywhere…he’ll use anyone to kill Harry.”
Ginny suddenly felt very cold in the hot kitchen with pressing walls. Sunlight and the outside pressed in on them.
Sirius gives her a clear look. “You won’t say anything to them, Ginny? I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s been on my mind…”
“I won’t say anything,” she promised, sliding off her stool, feeling her shirt stick to her front and back. “I’m going to see about the doxies.”
The combination of Sirius’ words, said with no intention of hurting her, the guilt she felt, the heat-all of that mixed well into a nightmare. There were no images, no people featured in the nightmare, just inky blackness and feelings of intense terror and the feeling of drowning.
Ginny felt her way carefully down the stairs, fingers slipping down the banister, placing her feet carefully so as not to make a sound.
“Ginny?”
She made a startled move backwards and banged her elbow into the wall.
“Lumos.” Reflected light flared in Sirius’ eyes. He held his wand up higher, revealing a solitary bottle on the kitchen table. “I’m sorry,” he said contritely, tiredly, “I didn’t mean to scare you. What are you doing?”
“I-” Ginny swallowed and licked her lips. “I couldn’t sleep.” She confessed in her next breath, “Nightmare.”
Sirius’ eyes changed. Maybe he saw the wildness in her eyes, recognized something he saw, sympathized, whatever it was, he slid his chair back from the table and said, “Oh, Ginny.”
And it seemed-it seemed so inviting a gesture, so familiar, one person offering comfort to another-Ginny took it. She flew across the kitchen to him, and Sirius caught her up easily. Ginny drew her legs up. She wore a long shirt that was almost a nightgown, a hideous second-hand affair, that had hitched up a bit, and she could feel the texture of Sirius’ rough jeans on her bare legs. Her arms went automatically around his neck, and she locked her fingers together.
Sirius tucked her head under his chin. Ginny felt the warmth of his chest, lap, embrace. Smelled the scent of Sirius and alcohol near his lips as he sighed.
“We weren’t made for this, Ginny,” he said heavily.
Ginny held him tighter. “What?”
He began a slow rocking motion and said absently, “Being helpless. Loyal to the end and not being able to do anything. It’s bloody…frustrating.” He let out a bark of laughter.
“I want to help,” she whispered, not sure what she wanted to help with, exactly.
Sirius’ hand smoothed her hair, the gesture soothing.
They stayed like that for a long time, frozen.
Also, someone commissioned me at the_fund! So, a Fred/Hermione one-shot has now taken precedence over all other fics and will be posted in the coming week.
Pairing: Sirius/Ginny
Rating: PG13
Summary: Just a moment during the summer of No. 12 Grimmauld Place. Ginny watches Sirius. That's kind of all there is to it, I'm afraid :[
A/N: This is for _citanul, who guessed correctly that the reason why I wanted Rachel Yamagata's "Worn Me Down" is because I've been sort of obsessed with The O.C.. No worries, it's not a big thing, just a thing that I watch. Like an entertainment thing. No new fandom or anything like that. Anyway, _citanul asked for Sirius/Ginny, PG or PG13.
“There goes another one! Catch him, Sirius-!”
Chair scraped backwards, tottering on two legs, and then clattered to the kitchen floor. Sirius leapt, changing as he went, and when he his the ground, he landed on all fours, pinning the doxy trying desperately to escape. Padfoot snarled, big paws trapping the black-haired fairy, all dog and snapping jaws, growls low in the throat, asserting a warning of dominance in the animal language. The doxy stopped trying to bite him.
“Good hunting, Sirius,” Fred Weasley grinned over his shoulder from where he stood at the sink, hands full trying to contain his own doxy. “Ginny, give the hunter a hand, won’t you?”
Ginny rose from her seat at the table, spraying the doxy with Doxycide, and extracted the motionless fairy. Doxy secure, Sirius changed back, the change from dog to man effortless and graceful, teeth still bared back in a triumphant grin. He swept his hair out of his eyes with a careless hand.
“You’ll want to be careful with those, Fred,” he continued wryly, carrying on their conversation as though there had never been an interruption, “Biting Fairies are ferocious creatures that are very good at escaping.” He deposited the doxy in the sink.
George reappeared in the kitchen, holding another unconscious fairy. “That was close. This one,” he shook the unconscious little figure at them, “almost got into Sirius’ mum’s portrait.”
Sirius’ lips flattened, but he only said, “Get them out of here before your mother comes back and lets me have it about not keeping you lot under control.”
“Right you are,” Fred said hastily, turning to cram the doxies into a bag. The twins had found several doxies that had somehow escaped Molly Weasley’s cleaning rampage in a room on the second floor and brought the creatures down to the kitchen to experiment. “So, Doxycide lasts only an hour or so. Must remember that.”
“Yes, we’ll have to find some way of containing them,” George agreed thoughtfully. “No telling what the Doxycide does to their venom.”
The twins marched out of the kitchen, their heads together, doxies in a bag with an Unbreakable Charm cast on it. No. 12 Grimmauld Place returned to stifling silence.
Sirius went back to lounging in his seat again, doodling on the morning’s copy of The Daily Prophet, wearing that bored and annoyed look he wore so often lately.
Despite Sirius not having gone out in more than a month, and his skin was pale and he was very thin for a man his height, so that he looked under the weather, Ginny could see traces of handsomeness. In flashes-when he smiled, that quirk of lips revealed teeth, and his strong neck when he turned his head as though he had scented something on the wind. His eyes were always very dark but sometimes in moments of cynicism, they gleamed brightly with irony.
And when he was sincerely amused, his laughter was transforming. It changed his face and his body, his being. The lines and planes of his body relaxed and the hollow features of his face became less empty and sharp.
Sirius Black was one of those people who, when they laughed, made everyone else want to laugh along with them. Everyone’s moods seemed to run close to the frequencies of Sirius’ moods.
Ginny sat at the kitchen table, looking at her book, Herbcraft For Horticulturists, and trying to scrutinize Sirius’ profile at the same time. He had that tense, stiff look like one who was just looking for an excuse to bolt…so she remained very still, reading the same blurry sentence over and over again in her peripheral vision.
Finally Sirius heaved a deep groan and dropped the stub of a pencil as he looked over at Ginny.
“Sorry I’m not much company,” he said wearily but kindly, exhaustion deep in his eyes as he looked away again to gaze out the window.
“It’s okay,” she assured him, wishing she could say something else, continue the stilted conversation.
He gave her an unconscious smile. “Yeah, well, can’t imagine anyone making good company in this environment.”
Ginny tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and shrugged.
“You know Harry may be coming to stay here?” he said suddenly.
“What?” Ginny blurted. “Do the others know?”
Sirius shook his head. “Not yet. Arthur doesn’t want to get their hopes up. Dumbledore says he’s safer where he is, and there aren’t any Aurors to be spared for a pick up…”
“If he’s not happy there, he’s going to do something reckless,” Ginny said.
Sirius scratched at a scar near his elbow. “Well, I’m trying to convince them to let him stay here. Voldemort has spies everywhere…he’ll use anyone to kill Harry.”
Ginny suddenly felt very cold in the hot kitchen with pressing walls. Sunlight and the outside pressed in on them.
Sirius gives her a clear look. “You won’t say anything to them, Ginny? I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s been on my mind…”
“I won’t say anything,” she promised, sliding off her stool, feeling her shirt stick to her front and back. “I’m going to see about the doxies.”
The combination of Sirius’ words, said with no intention of hurting her, the guilt she felt, the heat-all of that mixed well into a nightmare. There were no images, no people featured in the nightmare, just inky blackness and feelings of intense terror and the feeling of drowning.
Ginny felt her way carefully down the stairs, fingers slipping down the banister, placing her feet carefully so as not to make a sound.
“Ginny?”
She made a startled move backwards and banged her elbow into the wall.
“Lumos.” Reflected light flared in Sirius’ eyes. He held his wand up higher, revealing a solitary bottle on the kitchen table. “I’m sorry,” he said contritely, tiredly, “I didn’t mean to scare you. What are you doing?”
“I-” Ginny swallowed and licked her lips. “I couldn’t sleep.” She confessed in her next breath, “Nightmare.”
Sirius’ eyes changed. Maybe he saw the wildness in her eyes, recognized something he saw, sympathized, whatever it was, he slid his chair back from the table and said, “Oh, Ginny.”
And it seemed-it seemed so inviting a gesture, so familiar, one person offering comfort to another-Ginny took it. She flew across the kitchen to him, and Sirius caught her up easily. Ginny drew her legs up. She wore a long shirt that was almost a nightgown, a hideous second-hand affair, that had hitched up a bit, and she could feel the texture of Sirius’ rough jeans on her bare legs. Her arms went automatically around his neck, and she locked her fingers together.
Sirius tucked her head under his chin. Ginny felt the warmth of his chest, lap, embrace. Smelled the scent of Sirius and alcohol near his lips as he sighed.
“We weren’t made for this, Ginny,” he said heavily.
Ginny held him tighter. “What?”
He began a slow rocking motion and said absently, “Being helpless. Loyal to the end and not being able to do anything. It’s bloody…frustrating.” He let out a bark of laughter.
“I want to help,” she whispered, not sure what she wanted to help with, exactly.
Sirius’ hand smoothed her hair, the gesture soothing.
They stayed like that for a long time, frozen.
Also, someone commissioned me at the_fund! So, a Fred/Hermione one-shot has now taken precedence over all other fics and will be posted in the coming week.