FIC: The Elemental Trilogy (Part Three: Water)
Title: Water
Author: krabapple
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sirius finds his way back to Grimmauld Place, and Remus starts to melt.
Disclaimer: I own nothing that belongs to J.K. Rowling or anyone else.
Date Published: September 14, 2004
Remus opened the door, slowly and cautiously, with his wand out and ready. Sirius' inexplicable first thought upon seeing Remus standing there, backlit by the candles in the hallway, was that Moony had always been better at DADA than he was--and that he might be in a bit of trouble should Remus turn out to be serious about using his wand.
Instead, they just stood there for a long time, Remus on one side of the door and Sirius on the other, until Remus said, calmly enough to impress Sirius,
"How. How did you get here?"
"I walked," Sirius said.
__________________
They went into the kitchen and Remus made tea. Sirius would have laughed, as it occurred to him that perhaps Lily had picked up her tea habit from Remus, if he had not been suddenly and powerfully struck with thirst. He drank the entire first pot of Earl Gray, and Remus had to put the kettle on again, this time dropping Darjeeling leaves into another pot.
Remus was quiet, silent as a stone, not having said a word since he had asked Sirius his question at the doorway. Sirius didn't know where to start; obviously it wasn't every day that you came back from the dead, to be met at the doorway of your childhood home by your lover. Sirius took to reading the parchment Remus must have abandoned sideways, and finally came out with, "Gronwit toes, huh?"
"I. It's for my. It's for my job. I'm editing some pieces." Remus poured milk into his mug. Sirius nodded.
Finally, "It is me, Remus."
"I know."
"Because if you're not sure, I don't know. You could ask me something only I would know. Or that only the two of us would know. Like during sixth year, that time, in the hall closet when . . ."
"I know it's you. I can. I can smell you." Remus sipped his tea, though Sirius noted that his hand wasn't quite steady.
"Oh."
"I. You smell a bit . . . stale. But real. Alive."
"Oh." Sirius knew that Remus wouldn't be able to describe his sense of smell, so heightened by the wolf, in any way that he could understand, so he merely accepted what Remus was telling him. Remus didn't say anything else, so Sirius waited. He could do that; he'd gotten used to waiting.
There was silence for a long time as they drank their tea.
Finally, Remus sent his mug down to the table with a definitive crash. "Holy Merlin, Sirius. You're supposed to be dead."
"I know. But I'm not."
"Well. That's just great, Sirius. Fantastic! It's all explained to me now! How could I have ever been so foolish as to mourn you?" Remus finished with a flourish, his palm slapping the table.
"You mourned me?" That wasn't what he meant to say. He knew Remus had felt grief; he'd seen it, watched it, remembered it. But it was different when he heard it said out loud.
Remus' face took on an expression that made Sirius' chest ache. "I'm not exactly finished."
And suddenly, the ache in Sirius' chest flared into flame, and he took hold of Remus' hand from across the table. He didn't know what to say. Remus hung his head, and Sirius knew that he was crying, tears dropping down onto the tabletop.
He waited until Remus lifted his head, his face wet and shiny with tracks of tears, and then cupped Remus' face with both of his hands. "Are you finished now?" he asked.
Remus smiled a damp smile. "Almost."
Sirius leaned across the table and kissed him.
______________
Later, after Sirius had had another whole pot of tea, and eaten most of the chicken Remus had for sandwiches; after Sirius had explained about the James and Lily and the Maps; after Remus had looked at both Maps and asked questions and proclaimed his amazement; after they checked that Sirius appeared only on the Living Map, and no longer held place with those who were dead; after Sirius told how he'd gone to the Department of Mysteries, and just walked back through the veil, and out the door, and down to Grimmauld Place, as if it were the most natural thing in the world; after Sirius had asked about Harry, and Remus had said, along with the fact that Harry was well, "Please. Just. It's selfish but. I want you to myself. Even if it's only tonight."; after all of that, they slowly climbed the stairs to Remus' bedroom, extinguishing candles as they went.
Once they were inside, Remus closed the door behind them, and Sirius undid the buttons on Remus' white Muggle Oxford. He pulled the fabric aside, and Remus turned his head to the side, ashamed, when he heard Sirius' gasp of "Moony," knowing that Sirius had seen the new scars he'd given himself in the past months. He was unprepared when Sirius removed the shirt completely and then began to gently, reverently, kiss each new scar, scrape or scratch, and this time, it was Remus who gasped in surprise, feeling Sirius mouth, Sirius' mouth on him, all over him.
And then Remus got impatient, and pulled Sirius up, a brief tug on his hair bringing the other man up to eye level, in order to kiss him. It was a kiss both bruising and branding and yet entirely, gracefully loving, and it seemed to go on forever, or at least until Remus got impatient again and started tugging on Sirius' shirt, lifting it out of his trousers and over his head, breaking the kiss to do so.
Sirius, of course, had not changed during his period in the after life, in almost death, but Remus was comforted by this fact: this was his Sirius, the Sirius he knew, and he started remapping Sirius' body with the fervor of the forgotten. His fingers trailed over Sirius' chest, his arms, his hands. Remus took the time to handle every finger, every muscle, smiling as he kissed Sirius' abdomen and felt the familiar clench beneath his mouth.
Somehow they made it to the bed, though neither was quite sure how. They each removed their own trousers and boxers with shaking hands and met in the middle, each man on his side, kissing like eager, hormonal teenagers, hands roaming up and down and over. Sirius tickled Remus against his ribs, under his knee, and Remus laughed into their kisses, and in answer circled his own fingers around Sirius' cock. Sirius gasped and bucked slightly, clearly trying not to give too much away, too fast, but Remus was ready, and he pumped a searing rhythm until Sirius' mouth pulled away from his, and their foreheads met instead.
"I. You." Sirius didn't know what he was trying to articulate, he was so far gone with dizziness and desire, breathing heavily. Maybe it didn't matter.
"I want you inside me," Remus answered, not having any problem with articulation.
"You already know I'm alive." Sirius gasped as Remus' fingers tightened.
"Do I really have to ask you to prove it?" Remus answered, taking a deep breath as Sirius' fingers reached their own destination.
"Moony." Sirius rolled Remus over onto his back, until he loomed over the other man, and he let go of Remus' cock, but not before he pumped, once, twice and Remus moaned and arched his back, shifting on the sheets.
"Are you?" Sirius asked, panting. Remus nodded, and whispered the incantation.
Sirius took the time to position himself, Remus letting go of Sirius so that he could do so. Sirius' eyes met Remus', and again, "But . . ."
Remus growled and took Sirius' head in his hands, one hand on each side of his face, not gently. "Now, Sirius," he said, pulling Sirius down for another smoldering kiss.
Sirius complied, his pace slow, measured at first, but that gentleness finally gave way to Sirius' want, need, desire as Remus writhed beneath him, shifting up and down on the sheets, hard enough almost to burn himself with the cloth. When Remus banged his heel against the bed and moaned, "Padfoot," Sirius came, and Remus came, too, spurting on his own hand and stomach, straining his head up off the pillow in order to kiss Sirius again.
After a while, Sirius slowly disengaged and took his weight off of Remus, rolling to the side and onto his back. Remus moved closer in, burying his face in Sirius' neck, his breath hot and wet on Sirius' skin.
They didn't talk, and Sirius could feel the weight of sleep pulling him further and further down; he wanted to follow it, desperately, elementally, but Remus was uncommonly stiff, aware in his arms, and so Sirius positioned his head, his face, so he could see Remus a bit--the top of his head, the curve of his brow. He kissed the top of Remus' head.
"Don't you . . . aren't you sleepy, Moony?" he asked.
Remus nodded, but didn't look up into Sirius' eyes.
Sirius tightened his arms. "So we'll sleep then, perchance to wake." He felt Remus' smile against his neck.
"Perchance to dream," Remus said.
"This isn't a dream. I'll be here in the morning," Sirius reassured, knowing that it was true. Remus merely nodded, and settled into the curve of Sirius' body even further, and closed his eyes.
_____________________
In the morning, Sirius was still there.
Author: krabapple
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sirius finds his way back to Grimmauld Place, and Remus starts to melt.
Disclaimer: I own nothing that belongs to J.K. Rowling or anyone else.
Date Published: September 14, 2004
Remus opened the door, slowly and cautiously, with his wand out and ready. Sirius' inexplicable first thought upon seeing Remus standing there, backlit by the candles in the hallway, was that Moony had always been better at DADA than he was--and that he might be in a bit of trouble should Remus turn out to be serious about using his wand.
Instead, they just stood there for a long time, Remus on one side of the door and Sirius on the other, until Remus said, calmly enough to impress Sirius,
"How. How did you get here?"
"I walked," Sirius said.
__________________
They went into the kitchen and Remus made tea. Sirius would have laughed, as it occurred to him that perhaps Lily had picked up her tea habit from Remus, if he had not been suddenly and powerfully struck with thirst. He drank the entire first pot of Earl Gray, and Remus had to put the kettle on again, this time dropping Darjeeling leaves into another pot.
Remus was quiet, silent as a stone, not having said a word since he had asked Sirius his question at the doorway. Sirius didn't know where to start; obviously it wasn't every day that you came back from the dead, to be met at the doorway of your childhood home by your lover. Sirius took to reading the parchment Remus must have abandoned sideways, and finally came out with, "Gronwit toes, huh?"
"I. It's for my. It's for my job. I'm editing some pieces." Remus poured milk into his mug. Sirius nodded.
Finally, "It is me, Remus."
"I know."
"Because if you're not sure, I don't know. You could ask me something only I would know. Or that only the two of us would know. Like during sixth year, that time, in the hall closet when . . ."
"I know it's you. I can. I can smell you." Remus sipped his tea, though Sirius noted that his hand wasn't quite steady.
"Oh."
"I. You smell a bit . . . stale. But real. Alive."
"Oh." Sirius knew that Remus wouldn't be able to describe his sense of smell, so heightened by the wolf, in any way that he could understand, so he merely accepted what Remus was telling him. Remus didn't say anything else, so Sirius waited. He could do that; he'd gotten used to waiting.
There was silence for a long time as they drank their tea.
Finally, Remus sent his mug down to the table with a definitive crash. "Holy Merlin, Sirius. You're supposed to be dead."
"I know. But I'm not."
"Well. That's just great, Sirius. Fantastic! It's all explained to me now! How could I have ever been so foolish as to mourn you?" Remus finished with a flourish, his palm slapping the table.
"You mourned me?" That wasn't what he meant to say. He knew Remus had felt grief; he'd seen it, watched it, remembered it. But it was different when he heard it said out loud.
Remus' face took on an expression that made Sirius' chest ache. "I'm not exactly finished."
And suddenly, the ache in Sirius' chest flared into flame, and he took hold of Remus' hand from across the table. He didn't know what to say. Remus hung his head, and Sirius knew that he was crying, tears dropping down onto the tabletop.
He waited until Remus lifted his head, his face wet and shiny with tracks of tears, and then cupped Remus' face with both of his hands. "Are you finished now?" he asked.
Remus smiled a damp smile. "Almost."
Sirius leaned across the table and kissed him.
______________
Later, after Sirius had had another whole pot of tea, and eaten most of the chicken Remus had for sandwiches; after Sirius had explained about the James and Lily and the Maps; after Remus had looked at both Maps and asked questions and proclaimed his amazement; after they checked that Sirius appeared only on the Living Map, and no longer held place with those who were dead; after Sirius told how he'd gone to the Department of Mysteries, and just walked back through the veil, and out the door, and down to Grimmauld Place, as if it were the most natural thing in the world; after Sirius had asked about Harry, and Remus had said, along with the fact that Harry was well, "Please. Just. It's selfish but. I want you to myself. Even if it's only tonight."; after all of that, they slowly climbed the stairs to Remus' bedroom, extinguishing candles as they went.
Once they were inside, Remus closed the door behind them, and Sirius undid the buttons on Remus' white Muggle Oxford. He pulled the fabric aside, and Remus turned his head to the side, ashamed, when he heard Sirius' gasp of "Moony," knowing that Sirius had seen the new scars he'd given himself in the past months. He was unprepared when Sirius removed the shirt completely and then began to gently, reverently, kiss each new scar, scrape or scratch, and this time, it was Remus who gasped in surprise, feeling Sirius mouth, Sirius' mouth on him, all over him.
And then Remus got impatient, and pulled Sirius up, a brief tug on his hair bringing the other man up to eye level, in order to kiss him. It was a kiss both bruising and branding and yet entirely, gracefully loving, and it seemed to go on forever, or at least until Remus got impatient again and started tugging on Sirius' shirt, lifting it out of his trousers and over his head, breaking the kiss to do so.
Sirius, of course, had not changed during his period in the after life, in almost death, but Remus was comforted by this fact: this was his Sirius, the Sirius he knew, and he started remapping Sirius' body with the fervor of the forgotten. His fingers trailed over Sirius' chest, his arms, his hands. Remus took the time to handle every finger, every muscle, smiling as he kissed Sirius' abdomen and felt the familiar clench beneath his mouth.
Somehow they made it to the bed, though neither was quite sure how. They each removed their own trousers and boxers with shaking hands and met in the middle, each man on his side, kissing like eager, hormonal teenagers, hands roaming up and down and over. Sirius tickled Remus against his ribs, under his knee, and Remus laughed into their kisses, and in answer circled his own fingers around Sirius' cock. Sirius gasped and bucked slightly, clearly trying not to give too much away, too fast, but Remus was ready, and he pumped a searing rhythm until Sirius' mouth pulled away from his, and their foreheads met instead.
"I. You." Sirius didn't know what he was trying to articulate, he was so far gone with dizziness and desire, breathing heavily. Maybe it didn't matter.
"I want you inside me," Remus answered, not having any problem with articulation.
"You already know I'm alive." Sirius gasped as Remus' fingers tightened.
"Do I really have to ask you to prove it?" Remus answered, taking a deep breath as Sirius' fingers reached their own destination.
"Moony." Sirius rolled Remus over onto his back, until he loomed over the other man, and he let go of Remus' cock, but not before he pumped, once, twice and Remus moaned and arched his back, shifting on the sheets.
"Are you?" Sirius asked, panting. Remus nodded, and whispered the incantation.
Sirius took the time to position himself, Remus letting go of Sirius so that he could do so. Sirius' eyes met Remus', and again, "But . . ."
Remus growled and took Sirius' head in his hands, one hand on each side of his face, not gently. "Now, Sirius," he said, pulling Sirius down for another smoldering kiss.
Sirius complied, his pace slow, measured at first, but that gentleness finally gave way to Sirius' want, need, desire as Remus writhed beneath him, shifting up and down on the sheets, hard enough almost to burn himself with the cloth. When Remus banged his heel against the bed and moaned, "Padfoot," Sirius came, and Remus came, too, spurting on his own hand and stomach, straining his head up off the pillow in order to kiss Sirius again.
After a while, Sirius slowly disengaged and took his weight off of Remus, rolling to the side and onto his back. Remus moved closer in, burying his face in Sirius' neck, his breath hot and wet on Sirius' skin.
They didn't talk, and Sirius could feel the weight of sleep pulling him further and further down; he wanted to follow it, desperately, elementally, but Remus was uncommonly stiff, aware in his arms, and so Sirius positioned his head, his face, so he could see Remus a bit--the top of his head, the curve of his brow. He kissed the top of Remus' head.
"Don't you . . . aren't you sleepy, Moony?" he asked.
Remus nodded, but didn't look up into Sirius' eyes.
Sirius tightened his arms. "So we'll sleep then, perchance to wake." He felt Remus' smile against his neck.
"Perchance to dream," Remus said.
"This isn't a dream. I'll be here in the morning," Sirius reassured, knowing that it was true. Remus merely nodded, and settled into the curve of Sirius' body even further, and closed his eyes.
_____________________
In the morning, Sirius was still there.