Fic: "Everything In Its Right Place" for FrozenIsh
Gift for: frozenish
Author: agnes_bean
Title: Everything In Its Right Place
Pairing(s): Sirius/Remus, possible unrequited Sirius/James, if you want to read it that way.
Rating: PG (or maybe PG-13 for implied sexual content, though there's really no more than is implied in some Disney movies)
Summary: There are roses on James' tombstone when Remus arrives
Notes (if any): I, of course, do not own any of these character. They are JKRs, I just play. Also, the title is shamelessly stolen from a Radiohead song of the same name. Finally, thank you so much to my wonderful beta, faithfulreader.
There are roses on James' tombstone when Remus arrives. He's seen them before. They've been spelled for preservation and tied down by stones, and even the wash of English weather, the relentless passing of rain and snow and sun, has done little to dent their somber beauty.
Sirius always knew how to pick flowers. He'd put these here the day Remus had been reluctantly persuaded to take him out to Godric's Hollow in the form of Padfoot, despite Dumbledore's warnings.
Remus can still hear the echo of Sirius’ voice whispering in his ear. "Come on, Mooney. You can't deny me the chance to see James' grave." Remus isn't sure if it had been the call on old friendships or the shower of kisses down the back of his neck that convinced him to let Sirius come. Probably it had been the former - how could he deny Sirius the chance to see where James was buried? - but now he prefers to excuse it on the latter. Better to be lovesick and manipulated by kisses than plain duped. Because that day Sirius had bee lined to James' grave, making clear that he had been there before.
Of course, Remus had realized. Sirius would never leave England before stopping at James' grave, despite the danger.
Remus stoops and pulls one of the flowers out of the bouquet. He rolls it in his fingers and then brings it to his lips, standing again. He doesn't want to think that he'll never get to stand by Sirius' grave.
"Well," he says to the faded tombstone at his feet. "He's gone now." He pauses to wipe a tear before it can fall. "Perhaps he's with you and Lily now."
The tombstone doesn't respond, only stands there with its mocking gray firmness. No, Remus decides, that's not fair. James had never mocked him, not even that first night in fourth year, when, miserable and drunk, Remus confessed to his friend that he had desired Sirius. When James caught Remus and Sirius in a fumbling, inexperienced embrace, he didn’t taunt them. He had been nothing but supportive, keeping their secret even from Peter, backing them up on alibis and blessing them with his silent nods of approval.
But still, the hard gray letters, James Potter, with the spread of flowers resting beneath, only served as a reminder, now.
"He always loved you more," Remus tells the grave. "Even after you were gone." He'd bring you up when we were kissing, Remus remembers, but doesn't say out loud. He'd stop fondling me to mention something you'd said. He'd lie to me and risk everything to come to your grave one last time. He never stopped thinking of you.
The last Christmas they had spent together Sirius had pressed into Remus' hand a small figurine. It was a delicately carved figure of a wolf, curled peacefully in sleep.
"I had to occupy my time in hiding somehow," Sirius had whispered, cupping Remus' face and kissing his cheek. "I thought of coming back to you, and it gave me strength. So I made this."
Remus had beamed and embraced his lover. It wasn't until many months later that he found a similar figurine tucked away in the back of Sirius' sock drawer. The one he found was not a wolf, but a magnificent stag rising on its hindquarters. It was detailed and complex, and looked like it had taken up far more of its creator's time than the wolf. Remus couldn't say he was surprised.
Remus stands in silence as the sun sinks low on the horizon beyond. Even in June the air is cold, and he shivers in his thread bare coat.
And then, as the darkness envelopes him completely, he kneels by the grave. He draws from his pocket the wooden figure of a stage. Beside the headstone he scratches at the dirt to make a small hole.
"This was a gift for you," he says, dropping the stag in. "He thought of you while he was in hiding, and it gave him strength." He pulls another figure from him pocket: the rough hewn image of a shaggy dog. It's not as well made as Sirius' creations, but Remus had had less time to work on it.
He lays it beside the stag and then re-covers the hole with dirt. After another moment of silence he walks away, still holding the solitary flower in his hand.
Author: agnes_bean
Title: Everything In Its Right Place
Pairing(s): Sirius/Remus, possible unrequited Sirius/James, if you want to read it that way.
Rating: PG (or maybe PG-13 for implied sexual content, though there's really no more than is implied in some Disney movies)
Summary: There are roses on James' tombstone when Remus arrives
Notes (if any): I, of course, do not own any of these character. They are JKRs, I just play. Also, the title is shamelessly stolen from a Radiohead song of the same name. Finally, thank you so much to my wonderful beta, faithfulreader.
There are roses on James' tombstone when Remus arrives. He's seen them before. They've been spelled for preservation and tied down by stones, and even the wash of English weather, the relentless passing of rain and snow and sun, has done little to dent their somber beauty.
Sirius always knew how to pick flowers. He'd put these here the day Remus had been reluctantly persuaded to take him out to Godric's Hollow in the form of Padfoot, despite Dumbledore's warnings.
Remus can still hear the echo of Sirius’ voice whispering in his ear. "Come on, Mooney. You can't deny me the chance to see James' grave." Remus isn't sure if it had been the call on old friendships or the shower of kisses down the back of his neck that convinced him to let Sirius come. Probably it had been the former - how could he deny Sirius the chance to see where James was buried? - but now he prefers to excuse it on the latter. Better to be lovesick and manipulated by kisses than plain duped. Because that day Sirius had bee lined to James' grave, making clear that he had been there before.
Of course, Remus had realized. Sirius would never leave England before stopping at James' grave, despite the danger.
Remus stoops and pulls one of the flowers out of the bouquet. He rolls it in his fingers and then brings it to his lips, standing again. He doesn't want to think that he'll never get to stand by Sirius' grave.
"Well," he says to the faded tombstone at his feet. "He's gone now." He pauses to wipe a tear before it can fall. "Perhaps he's with you and Lily now."
The tombstone doesn't respond, only stands there with its mocking gray firmness. No, Remus decides, that's not fair. James had never mocked him, not even that first night in fourth year, when, miserable and drunk, Remus confessed to his friend that he had desired Sirius. When James caught Remus and Sirius in a fumbling, inexperienced embrace, he didn’t taunt them. He had been nothing but supportive, keeping their secret even from Peter, backing them up on alibis and blessing them with his silent nods of approval.
But still, the hard gray letters, James Potter, with the spread of flowers resting beneath, only served as a reminder, now.
"He always loved you more," Remus tells the grave. "Even after you were gone." He'd bring you up when we were kissing, Remus remembers, but doesn't say out loud. He'd stop fondling me to mention something you'd said. He'd lie to me and risk everything to come to your grave one last time. He never stopped thinking of you.
The last Christmas they had spent together Sirius had pressed into Remus' hand a small figurine. It was a delicately carved figure of a wolf, curled peacefully in sleep.
"I had to occupy my time in hiding somehow," Sirius had whispered, cupping Remus' face and kissing his cheek. "I thought of coming back to you, and it gave me strength. So I made this."
Remus had beamed and embraced his lover. It wasn't until many months later that he found a similar figurine tucked away in the back of Sirius' sock drawer. The one he found was not a wolf, but a magnificent stag rising on its hindquarters. It was detailed and complex, and looked like it had taken up far more of its creator's time than the wolf. Remus couldn't say he was surprised.
Remus stands in silence as the sun sinks low on the horizon beyond. Even in June the air is cold, and he shivers in his thread bare coat.
And then, as the darkness envelopes him completely, he kneels by the grave. He draws from his pocket the wooden figure of a stage. Beside the headstone he scratches at the dirt to make a small hole.
"This was a gift for you," he says, dropping the stag in. "He thought of you while he was in hiding, and it gave him strength." He pulls another figure from him pocket: the rough hewn image of a shaggy dog. It's not as well made as Sirius' creations, but Remus had had less time to work on it.
He lays it beside the stag and then re-covers the hole with dirt. After another moment of silence he walks away, still holding the solitary flower in his hand.