Kingdom By the Sea (Sirius/Remus, pg-13)
Kingdom By the Sea
Rating: PG-13
Ship: Sirius/Remus
Summary: "I just wanted to take you away," Remus said. But the shadow of Azkaban follows them.
A/N: For cruisedirector. Happy Holidays, my dear! Thanks so much to krabapple, my wonderful beta, and to musesfool, who ran the shackinup_sesa, where this fic was originally posted. This is set during GoF, and it's approximately 2,300 words.
The bed and breakfast stood on a sandy bluff overlooking the bay. Even to someone who'd spent the last several months in a mountain cave, living off rats, it didn't appear to be much.
"Sirius?" Remus touched his elbow. "What're you thinking?"
Sirius eyed the structure and the pebbly path leading to it doubtfully. "I think someone found a few slats of driftwood and roped them together. One good wave…"
"Considering it's been standing there for over a century," said Remus, sounding testy, "I doubt that even several good waves could knock it over. It may not be Claridges-"
"What's Claridges?"
Remus ignored the interruption. "-but it's what I can afford. More importantly, perhaps, it's the only place that couldn't afford to refuse me. Just about everything else is shut down for the season. Come on."
When Sirius hesitated, Remus added gently, "There'll be only one person there besides us, and that's the owner. She's an older woman. And a Muggle. She won't have heard of you."
"So you've said." Still, he didn't move.
"Sirius."
He could hear the waves crashing up the beach, and he could practically taste them, but he couldn't see them, which was slightly unnerving. In Azkaban, during those rare moments when the screams of the other prisoners had died down, all he'd been able to hear besides his own breathing had been the waves rushing toward and then away from the prison as if it were some sort of massive iron-and-stone heart.
"Sirius."
Remus had taken a fold of his sleeve and was tugging insistently. "Come on. We'll be safe once we're indoors."
No, we won't, Sirius thought. But he went along anyway.
*
The bed and breakfast's façade proved deceptive; though minimally decorated, it was actually rather pleasant inside. The woman who ran it - a widow in her mid-sixties - was grateful for any business so late in the year, and did not seem troubled by their appearance. (Sirius had washed and combed his hair and was borrowing one of Remus's Muggle outfits.) She took Remus's money and showed them to their room without much fuss and very few questions, one of which surprised Sirius.
"She thinks I'm a writer," Remus said when they were alone in their room. "When I made the reservation I implied that I was coming here to finish my novel."
"And what am I?" Sirius asked, looking around. There was a bed and a wardrobe, both of which looked as if they had seen much wear. There was an oil painting of an old style sailing ship, an odd sort of box with two metal rods sticking out of the top, and a single window over which heavy canvas curtains were drawn.
"My assistant, I suppose," Remus said.
"Not your inspiration?"
Remus was quiet, but Sirius heard the floorboards creak as he came up behind him. He felt Remus's breath on his ear and stood very still.
"You might be," Remus whispered and put his arms around Sirius's waist.
Sirius flinched.
They stood awkwardly for a moment, still touching but leaning away from each other. Then Remus dropped his arms and took a step back, muttering something that might have been, "Sorry…"
You didn't do anything, Sirius wanted to say, but didn't. Instead he walked to the window, pulled the curtains aside, and pushed his nose against the glass.
Under the heavy sky, the waves were pewter in color; the sand looked like clay. A few seagulls wheeled by screaming, flecks of white against the grey. He turned his head and, squinting, could just make out the lighthouse.
There'd been no beacon on Azkaban; Dementors did not need one. This place, despite its greyness and proximity to the sea, was nothing like Azkaban. Sirius breathed deeply. Nothing like Azkaban.
"All right, Sirius?" Remus asked with obvious concern.
Sirius shrugged.
"It's cold in here." Now Remus sounded as if he were talking just to fill the silence - something Sirius had done often enough back when they'd shared that Yorkshire flat, before James and Lily had died. "I'll turn on the heat. You haven't ever seen one of these non-magical heaters, have you? My great-aunt had one that looked a bit like this. I wonder - oh, this must be how you turn it on."
There was a high-pitched squeak and Sirius spun instinctively, but it was only Remus crouched beside a metal monstrosity that his initial scan of the room had somehow missed. He braced himself as Remus made to turn the dial again.
"I think this one may be as old as my great-aunt's," Remus remarked. "If not older."
Squeak, went the dial, sounding nothing like Wormtail, but invisible ants raced up Sirius's arms and down his back anyway. He shuddered.
"I think that's done it," Remus said, putting his hands on his knees and rising stiffly. "I imagine the room will take some time to heat. We can use magic at night, when there's less chance of the owner hearing us." When he saw Sirius's expression his eyebrows drew together. "All right?" he asked softly. "Sirius? Come on. This is better than the cave, surely. And safer than my flat. We can go outside here and there's little chance anyone will spot us."
"I know." He was tired suddenly, though it was only mid-afternoon and they hadn't left the cave that early.
"We can - Sirius?"
Sirius had sat heavily on the edge of the bed and was gripping the blanket tightly. He found his gaze drawn to the cracks between the floorboards. As he stared, they seemed to yawn into chasms and all the light and warmth in the room seemed to be sliding toward them. If he didn't hold tight to the blanket, he thought, if he didn't keep his feet planted firmly, he'd be sucked in too, though there was nothing light or warm about him.
Don't fall, he thought frantically. Don't.
But then the bed tipped and he pitched forward.
Remus caught him, held him while the world reeled. "It's all right," Remus whispered. "It will be all right. You're not used to any of this. We'll take it slowly. We'll stay in tonight and…"
That as the last thing that Sirius heard. Separating fantasy from reality became too difficult; to avoid the strain, he simply fell asleep.
*
He didn't dream, and by the time he woke, things seemed to have righted themselves. The clouds had scattered and the wintry sunlight that streamed through the window warmed his cheek. The blanket tucked around him was thick and soft. And Remus lay beside him, still asleep, one arm thrown across Sirius's chest.
Sirius turned his head on the pillow and looked at Remus. In the morning light his hair was almost pure silver, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth stood out sharply. That's not good, thought Sirius. He shifted closer and kissed Remus's cheek.
Remus smiled in his sleep.
Sirius kissed the bridge of his nose, then his chin. The stubble scraped his lips. Deciding that he liked the way that felt, he swiped at Remus's chin with the broad side of his tongue.
"Mmf," Remus muttered. Then, croakily, "Padfoot, my breath…"
"Mine too," said Sirius, and raised himself to kiss Remus's mouth.
*
It was awkward sex, but in the end it satisfied. Afterward, they took a hot bath (there was no shower) in the claw-footed tub. They were quiet. Remus washed Sirius's hair and back, then Sirius got behind him - flooding the bathroom in the process - and returned the favor.
While Sirius dried his hair with Remus's wand, Remus went downstairs in search of breakfast, and returned with a pitcher of juice, a thermos of tea, and a plate of toasted sandwiches.
"Mrs. Bryn - the woman who runs this place - says it might snow a bit later," Remus said while he served Sirius. "What do you feel like doing?"
Sirius, who was seated on the floor with his legs tucked up to his chest, shrugged and bit into his sandwich. He savored the crunch of the toast, the way the cheese oozed creamily between his teeth, the saltiness of the ham, and the tartness of the pineapple wedges.
"Better than rats, I imagine," Remus said.
Sirius nodded, swallowed, and took another large bite.
The box with the metal rods turned out to be a television, something Sirius remembered suddenly from the days before Azkaban.
"Evans's people had one, didn't they? James told me, once. There was some show that Evans liked to watch, and she made poor Prongs sit through it. I remember him saying Muggles find the oddest things amusing…" He could talk about James, he'd discovered, if he pretended James was just a character he'd once read about in a book.
Their television only got two channels. There was a ballet being shown on one, so they chose the other.
"This is Star Trek," Remus said, settling himself on the bed and pouring a cup of tea. "Mum used to watch. She fancied one of the actors."
"Which one?"
"I'm not sure. Someone with big ears. Or pointy ears. I-"
"That one?" Sirius pointed at the screen with the crust of his sandwich.
"Could be."
It turned out to be a Star Trek marathon, and they spent the rest of the morning watching. After two episodes Sirius decided that the ship's doctor not only resembled Remus's father, but was secretly pining for the bloke with the pointy ears.
"Only he's shagging the captain," he explained to Remus, who looked amused. "The bloke with the pointy ears is."
"What about all the girls?"
"Like that one in the silver bathing suit?" Sirius shook his head dismissively. "He's always on the pull. If he ever really fancied someone, he'd settle down. But see? He always goes back to his mates. I was like that."
"I don't think you pulled as often as Captain Kirk did."
Sirius snorted. "A lot you know."
Remus touched his hair. "If he did settle down, the series would be over."
"They're shagging," insisted Sirius confidently. "Him and the pointy-eared bloke. Give me my delusions, Remus. I've got so few left." The words came easily but they were followed by a thickness in his throat that he couldn't swallow back.
"I don't think that's true. And you did settle down - in a way - for a time…" Remus was quiet, as if waiting for a question or a retort, but Sirius stared at the television and did not speak.
The colors were too bright, he thought. The blue, red, and gold of the uniforms - garish. They made his head hurt; he didn't know why he hadn't noticed before. His gaze flicked to the window and the sky. Clouds were gathering.
"I want to go out." The words wheezed around the blockage in his throat.
"But we-" Remus started to protest.
But they went.
*
The air was crisp and cold. Sirius and Remus walked along the wet sand, bundled in jumpers and coats. When the urge to run overcame him, Sirius transformed and bounded up the beach, Remus following slowly behind.
As a dog, Sirius was intensely aware of his surroundings. There was snow on its way; he could smell it. He could also smell the smoke rising from the bed and breakfast's chimney, Remus's woolen jumper, Remus himself, and the tang of the water.
The dog loved the scents; the man needed the reminder of where he was - or where he wasn't.
Remus seemed to understand. He didn't speak until they reached the lighthouse.
Sirius had made it there first, transformed, and was waiting. "You could have Apparated," Sirius said when Remus drew near, pale and panting. "I doubt anyone's around to see."
"I could use the exercise," Remus said.
"You could use some rest."
So they sat on the cold, damp rocks, not quite touching. The wind blew Sirius's hair all around; he hadn't thought to tie it back before stepping out.
Remus said, "I wanted to take you away. That's the real reason I insisted we come here. I suppose my flat is safe enough if we don't go out, but…" He spoke so low that for a moment Sirius wasn't sure if he'd trailed off or if the wind and the waves had drowned him out.
"But my flat," Remus went on when things had died down a bit, "it's full of my junk. My baggage, I suppose you might say. It's not that I didn't want you to see all that. I suppose…I didn't want to see you in a place that had all these reminders of the time when we weren't together."
Sirius eyes strained for the horizon, but it was like staring at a grey wall or a shroud; sea and sky were so similar in color that it was almost impossible to determine where one met the other. The waves hissed as they struck the rocks and threw foam into the air. When they rushed back toward the sea it sounded as if the entire world were drawing breath.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Remus reach for him. He waited for the arm around his shoulders, but instead Remus gathered the long hair, twisted it in his hands, and held it against Sirius's neck.
"Thank you."
He wasn't sure Remus had heard him. He would have said it again, but then he felt Remus's thin, dry lips on his cheek and when he turned his head and opened his mouth it was not to speak but to kiss Remus's mouth.
Between them, Sirius thought, they owned the only heat in the day. If that was all they had, it was enough.
12/20/05
Rating: PG-13
Ship: Sirius/Remus
Summary: "I just wanted to take you away," Remus said. But the shadow of Azkaban follows them.
A/N: For cruisedirector. Happy Holidays, my dear! Thanks so much to krabapple, my wonderful beta, and to musesfool, who ran the shackinup_sesa, where this fic was originally posted. This is set during GoF, and it's approximately 2,300 words.
The bed and breakfast stood on a sandy bluff overlooking the bay. Even to someone who'd spent the last several months in a mountain cave, living off rats, it didn't appear to be much.
"Sirius?" Remus touched his elbow. "What're you thinking?"
Sirius eyed the structure and the pebbly path leading to it doubtfully. "I think someone found a few slats of driftwood and roped them together. One good wave…"
"Considering it's been standing there for over a century," said Remus, sounding testy, "I doubt that even several good waves could knock it over. It may not be Claridges-"
"What's Claridges?"
Remus ignored the interruption. "-but it's what I can afford. More importantly, perhaps, it's the only place that couldn't afford to refuse me. Just about everything else is shut down for the season. Come on."
When Sirius hesitated, Remus added gently, "There'll be only one person there besides us, and that's the owner. She's an older woman. And a Muggle. She won't have heard of you."
"So you've said." Still, he didn't move.
"Sirius."
He could hear the waves crashing up the beach, and he could practically taste them, but he couldn't see them, which was slightly unnerving. In Azkaban, during those rare moments when the screams of the other prisoners had died down, all he'd been able to hear besides his own breathing had been the waves rushing toward and then away from the prison as if it were some sort of massive iron-and-stone heart.
"Sirius."
Remus had taken a fold of his sleeve and was tugging insistently. "Come on. We'll be safe once we're indoors."
No, we won't, Sirius thought. But he went along anyway.
*
The bed and breakfast's façade proved deceptive; though minimally decorated, it was actually rather pleasant inside. The woman who ran it - a widow in her mid-sixties - was grateful for any business so late in the year, and did not seem troubled by their appearance. (Sirius had washed and combed his hair and was borrowing one of Remus's Muggle outfits.) She took Remus's money and showed them to their room without much fuss and very few questions, one of which surprised Sirius.
"She thinks I'm a writer," Remus said when they were alone in their room. "When I made the reservation I implied that I was coming here to finish my novel."
"And what am I?" Sirius asked, looking around. There was a bed and a wardrobe, both of which looked as if they had seen much wear. There was an oil painting of an old style sailing ship, an odd sort of box with two metal rods sticking out of the top, and a single window over which heavy canvas curtains were drawn.
"My assistant, I suppose," Remus said.
"Not your inspiration?"
Remus was quiet, but Sirius heard the floorboards creak as he came up behind him. He felt Remus's breath on his ear and stood very still.
"You might be," Remus whispered and put his arms around Sirius's waist.
Sirius flinched.
They stood awkwardly for a moment, still touching but leaning away from each other. Then Remus dropped his arms and took a step back, muttering something that might have been, "Sorry…"
You didn't do anything, Sirius wanted to say, but didn't. Instead he walked to the window, pulled the curtains aside, and pushed his nose against the glass.
Under the heavy sky, the waves were pewter in color; the sand looked like clay. A few seagulls wheeled by screaming, flecks of white against the grey. He turned his head and, squinting, could just make out the lighthouse.
There'd been no beacon on Azkaban; Dementors did not need one. This place, despite its greyness and proximity to the sea, was nothing like Azkaban. Sirius breathed deeply. Nothing like Azkaban.
"All right, Sirius?" Remus asked with obvious concern.
Sirius shrugged.
"It's cold in here." Now Remus sounded as if he were talking just to fill the silence - something Sirius had done often enough back when they'd shared that Yorkshire flat, before James and Lily had died. "I'll turn on the heat. You haven't ever seen one of these non-magical heaters, have you? My great-aunt had one that looked a bit like this. I wonder - oh, this must be how you turn it on."
There was a high-pitched squeak and Sirius spun instinctively, but it was only Remus crouched beside a metal monstrosity that his initial scan of the room had somehow missed. He braced himself as Remus made to turn the dial again.
"I think this one may be as old as my great-aunt's," Remus remarked. "If not older."
Squeak, went the dial, sounding nothing like Wormtail, but invisible ants raced up Sirius's arms and down his back anyway. He shuddered.
"I think that's done it," Remus said, putting his hands on his knees and rising stiffly. "I imagine the room will take some time to heat. We can use magic at night, when there's less chance of the owner hearing us." When he saw Sirius's expression his eyebrows drew together. "All right?" he asked softly. "Sirius? Come on. This is better than the cave, surely. And safer than my flat. We can go outside here and there's little chance anyone will spot us."
"I know." He was tired suddenly, though it was only mid-afternoon and they hadn't left the cave that early.
"We can - Sirius?"
Sirius had sat heavily on the edge of the bed and was gripping the blanket tightly. He found his gaze drawn to the cracks between the floorboards. As he stared, they seemed to yawn into chasms and all the light and warmth in the room seemed to be sliding toward them. If he didn't hold tight to the blanket, he thought, if he didn't keep his feet planted firmly, he'd be sucked in too, though there was nothing light or warm about him.
Don't fall, he thought frantically. Don't.
But then the bed tipped and he pitched forward.
Remus caught him, held him while the world reeled. "It's all right," Remus whispered. "It will be all right. You're not used to any of this. We'll take it slowly. We'll stay in tonight and…"
That as the last thing that Sirius heard. Separating fantasy from reality became too difficult; to avoid the strain, he simply fell asleep.
*
He didn't dream, and by the time he woke, things seemed to have righted themselves. The clouds had scattered and the wintry sunlight that streamed through the window warmed his cheek. The blanket tucked around him was thick and soft. And Remus lay beside him, still asleep, one arm thrown across Sirius's chest.
Sirius turned his head on the pillow and looked at Remus. In the morning light his hair was almost pure silver, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth stood out sharply. That's not good, thought Sirius. He shifted closer and kissed Remus's cheek.
Remus smiled in his sleep.
Sirius kissed the bridge of his nose, then his chin. The stubble scraped his lips. Deciding that he liked the way that felt, he swiped at Remus's chin with the broad side of his tongue.
"Mmf," Remus muttered. Then, croakily, "Padfoot, my breath…"
"Mine too," said Sirius, and raised himself to kiss Remus's mouth.
*
It was awkward sex, but in the end it satisfied. Afterward, they took a hot bath (there was no shower) in the claw-footed tub. They were quiet. Remus washed Sirius's hair and back, then Sirius got behind him - flooding the bathroom in the process - and returned the favor.
While Sirius dried his hair with Remus's wand, Remus went downstairs in search of breakfast, and returned with a pitcher of juice, a thermos of tea, and a plate of toasted sandwiches.
"Mrs. Bryn - the woman who runs this place - says it might snow a bit later," Remus said while he served Sirius. "What do you feel like doing?"
Sirius, who was seated on the floor with his legs tucked up to his chest, shrugged and bit into his sandwich. He savored the crunch of the toast, the way the cheese oozed creamily between his teeth, the saltiness of the ham, and the tartness of the pineapple wedges.
"Better than rats, I imagine," Remus said.
Sirius nodded, swallowed, and took another large bite.
The box with the metal rods turned out to be a television, something Sirius remembered suddenly from the days before Azkaban.
"Evans's people had one, didn't they? James told me, once. There was some show that Evans liked to watch, and she made poor Prongs sit through it. I remember him saying Muggles find the oddest things amusing…" He could talk about James, he'd discovered, if he pretended James was just a character he'd once read about in a book.
Their television only got two channels. There was a ballet being shown on one, so they chose the other.
"This is Star Trek," Remus said, settling himself on the bed and pouring a cup of tea. "Mum used to watch. She fancied one of the actors."
"Which one?"
"I'm not sure. Someone with big ears. Or pointy ears. I-"
"That one?" Sirius pointed at the screen with the crust of his sandwich.
"Could be."
It turned out to be a Star Trek marathon, and they spent the rest of the morning watching. After two episodes Sirius decided that the ship's doctor not only resembled Remus's father, but was secretly pining for the bloke with the pointy ears.
"Only he's shagging the captain," he explained to Remus, who looked amused. "The bloke with the pointy ears is."
"What about all the girls?"
"Like that one in the silver bathing suit?" Sirius shook his head dismissively. "He's always on the pull. If he ever really fancied someone, he'd settle down. But see? He always goes back to his mates. I was like that."
"I don't think you pulled as often as Captain Kirk did."
Sirius snorted. "A lot you know."
Remus touched his hair. "If he did settle down, the series would be over."
"They're shagging," insisted Sirius confidently. "Him and the pointy-eared bloke. Give me my delusions, Remus. I've got so few left." The words came easily but they were followed by a thickness in his throat that he couldn't swallow back.
"I don't think that's true. And you did settle down - in a way - for a time…" Remus was quiet, as if waiting for a question or a retort, but Sirius stared at the television and did not speak.
The colors were too bright, he thought. The blue, red, and gold of the uniforms - garish. They made his head hurt; he didn't know why he hadn't noticed before. His gaze flicked to the window and the sky. Clouds were gathering.
"I want to go out." The words wheezed around the blockage in his throat.
"But we-" Remus started to protest.
But they went.
*
The air was crisp and cold. Sirius and Remus walked along the wet sand, bundled in jumpers and coats. When the urge to run overcame him, Sirius transformed and bounded up the beach, Remus following slowly behind.
As a dog, Sirius was intensely aware of his surroundings. There was snow on its way; he could smell it. He could also smell the smoke rising from the bed and breakfast's chimney, Remus's woolen jumper, Remus himself, and the tang of the water.
The dog loved the scents; the man needed the reminder of where he was - or where he wasn't.
Remus seemed to understand. He didn't speak until they reached the lighthouse.
Sirius had made it there first, transformed, and was waiting. "You could have Apparated," Sirius said when Remus drew near, pale and panting. "I doubt anyone's around to see."
"I could use the exercise," Remus said.
"You could use some rest."
So they sat on the cold, damp rocks, not quite touching. The wind blew Sirius's hair all around; he hadn't thought to tie it back before stepping out.
Remus said, "I wanted to take you away. That's the real reason I insisted we come here. I suppose my flat is safe enough if we don't go out, but…" He spoke so low that for a moment Sirius wasn't sure if he'd trailed off or if the wind and the waves had drowned him out.
"But my flat," Remus went on when things had died down a bit, "it's full of my junk. My baggage, I suppose you might say. It's not that I didn't want you to see all that. I suppose…I didn't want to see you in a place that had all these reminders of the time when we weren't together."
Sirius eyes strained for the horizon, but it was like staring at a grey wall or a shroud; sea and sky were so similar in color that it was almost impossible to determine where one met the other. The waves hissed as they struck the rocks and threw foam into the air. When they rushed back toward the sea it sounded as if the entire world were drawing breath.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Remus reach for him. He waited for the arm around his shoulders, but instead Remus gathered the long hair, twisted it in his hands, and held it against Sirius's neck.
"Thank you."
He wasn't sure Remus had heard him. He would have said it again, but then he felt Remus's thin, dry lips on his cheek and when he turned his head and opened his mouth it was not to speak but to kiss Remus's mouth.
Between them, Sirius thought, they owned the only heat in the day. If that was all they had, it was enough.
12/20/05