Fic: The Loneliest Numbers
Title: The Loneliest Numbers
Rating: soft R
Pairings: Remus/Sirius, Remus/Sirius/Tonks, Remus/Tonks
Summary: The numbers keep changing.
Notes: Spoilers for HBP.
one.
Remus counts the full moons for twelve years. He counts them like sheep, flying past over fences in his dreams, each bringing a new level of insomnia to the other twentysomething days of the month.
He only goes sniffing around prostitutes when the moons pile up so he can't sleep at all. The men have rough hands. The women have cold eyes. The wolf loves them all, and Remus wonders how long he can last this time without touch.
Sometimes he dreams of Sirius. Sometimes he dreams of Lily. There are a lot of full moons in twelve years.
two.
One year passes from the time that Remus and Sirius embrace in the Shrieking Shack, to the night that Sirius shows up on Remus' doorstep with a hippogriff and a sad smile.
There are not even prostitutes in Azkaban. After a few nights, Remus stops counting the moons and starts counting the number of times that Sirius recoils from his touch. It is delicate, almost a science, the painstaking way they break through his barriers and fall into familiar rhythms. By the time they move into Grimmauld Place, Sirius begins to remember things other than nightmares. He becomes insatiable, and the wolf loves him.
He stops crying every time he comes.
three.
Sirius misses women. He confides in Remus right about the time that she's there, that she's suddenly underfoot all the time, all softness and curves and shocking pink hair.
"I've seen the way she looks at you, Moony," Sirius whispers late at night, "like she wants to have little pink wolf cubs running about."
"Shut up," Remus mutters, but can't hide his flush of pleasure. He can't imagine what a pretty young thing like Tonks would want with him. Sirius must be wrong. She wants Sirius instead. Women always want Sirius.
She comes into their bed like a roar of light, and with plenty of tequila. Sirius is still convinced that she wants to fuck him and to make love to Remus, but Tonks just laughs and says that they're her two best boys and how could she ever possibly choose between them?
Sirius asks her if she's ever kissed a woman, and Remus asks if she ever wants to get married. She says yes to both, and takes off her shirt.
Sirius loves how loud she is when she comes. Remus loves how quiet she is when she sleeps.
two.
Tonks counts the nights he's been gone. It's a big bed, though still not too big for two people. There may as well be a third, though; his memory is there between them like a ghost. Remus hasn't touched her.
On the fifth night, she sheds her clothes and climbs on top of him. His protests are unconvincing even to him, and his hands on her skin almost make him forget how long it has been since the bed was full. When her hair turns black, he says, "No, please, you," and it is a bright, shocking pink as he clings to her and comes.
"I miss Sirius," she says softly, later. "But I would have missed you more."
Remus can't bring himself to respond, because he's afraid of either answer. "Sirius would have protected you."
She doesn’t realize until later that he meant from him.
one.
Tonks doesn't count the days since she's seen him, doesn't count how many times she looks in the mirror and can't force herself to change, how many days she's worn his hair, his eyes.
She thinks how alone he must be, a man among wolves. She fires her patronus into an empty sky. She talks to Sirius in her sleep. She talks to herself.
She starts to count the full moons, ticking them off like birthday candles. She wonders how many she can survive without him.
She wonders how many he can survive at all.
Rating: soft R
Pairings: Remus/Sirius, Remus/Sirius/Tonks, Remus/Tonks
Summary: The numbers keep changing.
Notes: Spoilers for HBP.
one.
Remus counts the full moons for twelve years. He counts them like sheep, flying past over fences in his dreams, each bringing a new level of insomnia to the other twentysomething days of the month.
He only goes sniffing around prostitutes when the moons pile up so he can't sleep at all. The men have rough hands. The women have cold eyes. The wolf loves them all, and Remus wonders how long he can last this time without touch.
Sometimes he dreams of Sirius. Sometimes he dreams of Lily. There are a lot of full moons in twelve years.
two.
One year passes from the time that Remus and Sirius embrace in the Shrieking Shack, to the night that Sirius shows up on Remus' doorstep with a hippogriff and a sad smile.
There are not even prostitutes in Azkaban. After a few nights, Remus stops counting the moons and starts counting the number of times that Sirius recoils from his touch. It is delicate, almost a science, the painstaking way they break through his barriers and fall into familiar rhythms. By the time they move into Grimmauld Place, Sirius begins to remember things other than nightmares. He becomes insatiable, and the wolf loves him.
He stops crying every time he comes.
three.
Sirius misses women. He confides in Remus right about the time that she's there, that she's suddenly underfoot all the time, all softness and curves and shocking pink hair.
"I've seen the way she looks at you, Moony," Sirius whispers late at night, "like she wants to have little pink wolf cubs running about."
"Shut up," Remus mutters, but can't hide his flush of pleasure. He can't imagine what a pretty young thing like Tonks would want with him. Sirius must be wrong. She wants Sirius instead. Women always want Sirius.
She comes into their bed like a roar of light, and with plenty of tequila. Sirius is still convinced that she wants to fuck him and to make love to Remus, but Tonks just laughs and says that they're her two best boys and how could she ever possibly choose between them?
Sirius asks her if she's ever kissed a woman, and Remus asks if she ever wants to get married. She says yes to both, and takes off her shirt.
Sirius loves how loud she is when she comes. Remus loves how quiet she is when she sleeps.
two.
Tonks counts the nights he's been gone. It's a big bed, though still not too big for two people. There may as well be a third, though; his memory is there between them like a ghost. Remus hasn't touched her.
On the fifth night, she sheds her clothes and climbs on top of him. His protests are unconvincing even to him, and his hands on her skin almost make him forget how long it has been since the bed was full. When her hair turns black, he says, "No, please, you," and it is a bright, shocking pink as he clings to her and comes.
"I miss Sirius," she says softly, later. "But I would have missed you more."
Remus can't bring himself to respond, because he's afraid of either answer. "Sirius would have protected you."
She doesn’t realize until later that he meant from him.
one.
Tonks doesn't count the days since she's seen him, doesn't count how many times she looks in the mirror and can't force herself to change, how many days she's worn his hair, his eyes.
She thinks how alone he must be, a man among wolves. She fires her patronus into an empty sky. She talks to Sirius in her sleep. She talks to herself.
She starts to count the full moons, ticking them off like birthday candles. She wonders how many she can survive without him.
She wonders how many he can survive at all.