June 8th: Patronus to Minerva

[shacklebolting]

Kingsley left Sirius asleep in the bedroom. He still thought it would be wiser if only Minerva knew of Sirius's return. He could understand Sirius wanted to tell his godson and friend, but that was Minerva's decision

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[black_returned]

He could hear voices. Strange how it always sounded like his mother's voice, a low monotone of bitterness and anger, malice and hatred.

Sirius rolled over and pulled the pillow over his head.

His mother kept on, a voice in the darkness, in the cold, that cut through him like a knife. Always, it brought out the worst in him, all his anger and defiance, knowing that he was never good enough for her, not a proper Black, before he'd cast it all aside and been proud to be everything that she hated.

Murderer. Traitor.

No! He wasn't those things, he hadn't killed James and Lily, hadn't betrayed them, although it always felt like he had; he'd been so stupid to trust Peter and it was his fault. Yes, your fault they're dead, yours. The voices grew louder, more insistent, and all the warmth leached out of his bones and he could smell it, that rank sweet smell of death and decay overlaid by salt. Azkaban.

"No!" He wasn't guilty, it wasn't him, but despair reached cold hands for him--

[shacklebolting]

The shout brought Kingsley into the bedroom at once. Shoo hissed as he passed, but he ignored the grumbling; while he hadn't yet managed to evict the former occupant's cat, they'd come to an understanding that the bedroom belonged to Kingsley.

Sirius was thrashing on the bed. Wary of taking an elbow to the chin, Kingsley called out a few times, but Sirius didn't wake. Finally Kingsley sat on the edge of the bed and caught Sirius's arm. "Sirius? You're all right, it's just a dream." He brushed the sweaty hair back from Sirius's brow, concerned.

[black_returned]

--and hands, hands reaching for him. He hit out--

Sirius woke with a start, rolling himself into Remus' arms, all warmth and quiet concern. Comfort. He needed--

Reaching up, he nuzzled along a solid jaw, finding lips that opened under his, firm, full lips that tasted of warmth, of life. His hands moved over a broad back, sleek skin and he opened his eyes.

[shacklebolting]

A hot mouth captured his own, which went slack with surprise. Sirius had to be alseep still. Kingsley should stop him before he woke up... but his mouth felt so good and it had been so long...

All the restless feelings he'd been battling this last year coiled around the kiss. This was more than just stress from a long assignment that took him away from the wizarding world so much, more than losing Tonks as his partner, more than the never-ending drama his family loaded on him. A man was kissing him, and he liked it.

I haven't brushed my teeth today, he thought, and that jarred him back to sense. He pulled away, and saw that Sirius was watching him.

"I," he said, and licked his lips. He had no idea what else to say.

[black_returned]

Well, I've fucked that up royally, Sirius thought, his hands sliding down Kingsley's back. "You're very warm," he said inanely, hands tightening as Kings moved. Don't leave! Remus always--

"I fucking hate these nightmares," he muttered, dropping a hand down to cover his eyes before lifting it again. "Just lay down for a minute, yeah?"

[shacklebolting]

Well. Sirius took that well, which spoke volumes. Feeling unaccountably flustered, Kingsley sat back against the headboard. "Do you want a warming spell? Or another blanket? Or more tea?" He realized he was babbling, but he couldn't still his tongue.

"Do you get nightmares often?" Who kissed them away, before? "I can order some curry. Or leave the lights on if you want to sleep."

[black_returned]

Sirius sighed. What he really wanted was for Kingsley to shut up and get down into the bed so that Sirius could wrap himself around that lovely warmth and shut out the memories and the darkness.

"Yeah, I have a lot of nightmares," he muttered, trying to wrap himself more tightly in the blankets. It didn't matter how many blankets there were, they couldn't keep out the cold. Sirius had often thought he carried it within him now. "Look, just lay down with me, will you?" Fuck, you're an idiot, Black he thought, way to scare the man off completely. "I get really cold, and I remember what it was like in there."

[shacklebolting]

Humour cut through Kingsley's fretting, and he let out a quiet chuckle. "Fine, but only until Minerva and the others get here. After that, it's back to warming charms for you." He slid lower in the bed, as requested --demanded, really -- and offered an arm to warm Sirius.

Of course he'd been reading too much into the kiss. Sirius was still in shock; upset and cold. He only wanted warmth and companionship, to be reminded he was alive.

The uncomfortable feeling riding low in Kingsley's stomach most certainly was not disappointment.

[black_returned]

Sirius wriggled the blankets around them both, resting his head on the offered arm and wrapping himself around Kingsley, sliding his arm across Kingsley's chest to feel the steady heartbeat beneath it, and shifting one leg to slide between Kingsley's. "You're wearing too much," he said, pushing his hair back impatiently to get it out of his face and returning his hand to Kings' chest, his palm sliding until he felt that firm beat again. "'sbetter," he said softly. Kingsley smelled good, and Sirius rubbed his hand absently in time with that heartbeat. Warmth. Life. Comfort. He let his eyes close, and turned his head in closer. "Much better."

[shacklebolting]

Wearing too much?? Kingsley swallowed hard and watched Sirius from the corner of his eye. He looked content as a cat (well, any cat but Shoo) snugged up against Kingsley's chest.

Wearing too much?? What exactly did Sirius mean by that? He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, a muggle shirt and trousers, and dress socks, which he kept up with a charm instead of those finicky little belts.

... Wearing too much??

[black_returned]

God, it felt good, to be wrapped around someone. Not Remus--don't think of him, he has another life--but someone warm and alive and if not exactly welcoming, not pushing him away either.

He rubbed his leg against Kings', wishing there were less clothes in the bed. Skin, warm living skin, where you could almost feel magic against your own, that was what he wanted, but he'd take what he could get. Eyes closed, he nuzzled into the skin of Kings' throat. "I can feel your pulse," he murmured, "against my lips." The steady heartbeat under his palm was an anchor.

[shacklebolting]

"Can you?" His voice didn't break, but it was a near thing. Sirius's lips on his throat sent his head spinning. He didn't know what to do with his hands.

The sound of the floo rescued him, and he leapt from the bed and bolted for the door. In the lounge, Minerva was stepping out of the flames. She looked so careworn Kingsley almost regretted summoning her, but for once he had good news.