For dmitchell1985: Seriously Bored [Fic, Sirius/Dumbledore, PG-13]
Title: Seriously Bored
Author: janicechess
Giftee: dmitchell1985
Pairing: Sirius/Dumbledore
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~2,100
Summary: The afterlife would be more interesting, Sirius thinks, if only dead people weren't so boring.
A/N: Thanks for such a fun request, dmitchell1985! Thanks bunches to my beta-reader.
Sirius was bored.
It was worse than when he'd been cooped up at 12, Grimmauld Place -- at least then he'd known his time there was finite, even if the confinement had chafed. It was even worse than during all his twelve years at Azkaban. He'd been fighting for his survival back then, focusing on getting out and getting revenge. He'd had a goal, a purpose.
Plus, he'd been a dog most of the time, and dogs, as a rule, don't bore easily.
But this place … this place was hell. Only it wasn't, because hell would presumably be more exciting, with the fire and torture and pitchforks. This place was nothing. Sirius spun in a circle for the millionth time. Grey, grey, grey. No walls, no horizon, no ceiling, no sky. There was nothing but grey, everywhere, no matter how far he walked in either direction. He knew. He had tried.
As far as he was aware, this nothingness was all there ever was going to be, forever and ever. It was so depressing, he wanted to kill himself. But he was already dead.
He couldn't even transform into Padfoot anymore. And his wand was gone. What kind of afterlife didn't have magic? A fucking pathetic one, that's what kind.
"Fuck!" he shouted as loudly as he could.
A group of people huddled nearby looked over at him. They began to whisper amongst themselves, their voices like mice in the walls.
Right. So, technically, he wasn't surrounded only by nothingness. He was surrounded by nothingness and lots of other people. But they weren't interesting people. They were all so somber and serious and boring. He'd learned by now that talking to them led only to frustration, so he studiously avoided them.
But frustration was better than boredom, wasn't it? At least it was different. And he hadn't talked to any of this lot before, he didn't think. Maybe one of them would surprise him.
He sauntered towards the group in what he assumed was an alluring fashion, trying to catch the eye of a rather fetching bird with short blonde hair.
"Anyone fancy a shag?"
The woman grimaced, not looking at him. Sirius shifted his attention to a slim Asian man. "How about it, then? Anyone up for a--"
"We're dead, you know," said a pale, doughy man. He was young but had a small bald spot on the top of his head.
Fucking hell. They were just the same as all the rest. Sirius clasped his hands together and placed them over his heart. "We're dead? Oh, woe is me. Whatever shall I do? I'm dead! My life is over! … But wait, what's this? I still have a body! And … can it be?" He shifted his right hand down and cupped himself through his trousers. "It's a miracle! Little John Thomas made it to the other side as well! … Of course, when I say little I really mean enormous. It's just a term of endearment."
"How can you think of such vulgar things at a time like this?" It was the blonde woman; her expression reminded Sirius of a long-ago family reunion. "We've just lost everything! Our children, our friends ..."
Sirius sighed. At first, he had been sad, of course. He'd been completely distraught at having left Harry and Remus and all the others behind. But, he'd realized, life goes on. Or afterlife goes on, as it were. Ten years must have passed since then.
"Come off it, there's no use being depressed for all eternity. Your families will end up here eventually, you'll--" Sirius stopped talking when he heard a collective gasp of horror rise from the group.
"How dare you?" the woman said. She looked like she wanted to slap him. "Our children will live long, full lives. They will not end up here."
"What? What are you on about?"
The woman turned to the balding man, her face smug. "He wasn't paying attention on his way here." She turned back to Sirius. "I'm not surprised. You should have listened to your Guide."
She turned and walked away; the rest of the group followed.
"Guide? I didn't have a guide! I fell through a fucking curtain!" Sirius wanted to kick something. Where was a wall when you needed one?
::
Time stretched onward even further, and Sirius gave up trying to talk to anybody. No one would tell him anything, other than, "you should have listened to your Guide." No one would just have a chat about something trivial, like socks or whisky or bananas. And no one was ever up for a shag.
There had been one young man -- he couldn't have been older than twenty -- who had almost kissed him. He had been adorably shy, with deep brown eyes and sandy brown hair. But then he'd disappeared, literally, right from under Sirius' nose. He'd closed his eyes, anticipating the feel of another person's lips and tongue, the warmth and wetness and glorious taste of it. He'd opened his mouth ever so slightly, waiting … and then nothing. When he'd opened his eyes, the man was gone.
He took to wanking as often as he could. It was difficult to find a spot where he had even a small amount of privacy, but after a while he stopped caring.
::
Sirius had just woken up from a nap when he saw the man, standing about one hundred yards away, his hands planted on his hips. There was something about him that made it impossible for Sirius to look away. He studied the strange man, trying to unravel the mystery. It wasn't his long, auburn hair or his eyes, which were so brightly blue they were visible from where Sirius sat. It was something else about his face.
When Sirius realized what it was, he started to laugh. The man was smiling. He hadn't seen anyone smile in what felt like a hundred years.
The man looked over, his smile broadening when he saw Sirius. He began to walk over, and Sirius felt a tight ball of nerves form in the pit of his stomach.
"Come on, Black," he muttered to himself, "don't blow this. It may be your only chance at decent companionship for all eternity." But no pressure, he thought, chuckling, as the man stopped in front of him.
"Hello!" the man said. "I've been looking for you. You have yourself quite a reputation."
"Have I?" said Sirius casually. "Well, you know how it goes … it's hard for someone as scintillating as me to go unnoticed."
The man said nothing, but simply stood and grinned at Sirius. His eyes were twinkling with … was that friendliness? Interest, even? Sirius didn't want to misinterpret (yet again), but he was seriously, desperately lonely. And not a little horny.
Fuck it, what did he have to lose?
Sirius clasped the man by the sides of his face, leaned forward, and kissed him. The man made a curious noise, half surprise and half delight, and kissed him back. Rather vigorously, with quite a lot of tongue.
It was wonderful. It was … heavenly. Sirius felt a tingle of electricity flow through him at the long-craved human touch. He was drowning, he was flying, he--
The man pulled away, still smiling. "Why, Sirius," he said, "I had no idea you felt that way about me. That was marvelous."
Sirius scampered backwards in surprise, tripping over his own feet. He landed on his backside with a dull thud, staring at the man all the while. Suddenly, the voice was sounding vaguely familiar. But the face … it was too young. He looked closely at the eyes--
"Professor Dumbledore??"
::
It had taken Sirius several minutes to recover from his shock. Albus (as he'd insisted Sirius call him) had been quite amused by the reaction. "In my day, I used to be able to knock them off their feet," he had said. "It's good to know I still have that ability, even when I'm dead."
Albus had suggested they walk, and so they had. It had helped a little. When Sirius looked at him now, he had a harder time seeing the face of the old man he had known.
That reminded him; he'd wanted to ask something.
"Why do you look so young?"
"Everyone here is in the prime of their life. Did you not notice?"
Sirius stopped and looked around him. Bugger, he was right. How had he not seen that before?
Albus chuckled. "You didn't listen to what your Guide--"
"Wait. Sorry for interrupting, but what the f-- what are these guides I keep hearing about? It's all these people want to talk about."
"Do you remember, on your way here, there was a being who guided you through the transformation back to your younger self? I'd imagine for you, being as young as you are, the process was short. Perhaps you didn't even notice."
Sirius sighed, frustration boiling up in him. "Last thing I remember, I was fighting my dear old cousin. Then I fell through some arch, and when I got up again, I was here."
"Fascinating. Perhaps your manner of death short-circuited the normal process. You must have been terribly confused."
"Confused? I was out of my mind! One minute you're in a battle, the next--" Sirius stopped, grabbing Albus' arm. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought to ask this before. What was wrong with him?
"Harry. Is he all right? How is he? He must be all grown up by now. Did he get married? Does he have children? Is he happy?"
Albus patted Sirius' hand. "Harry … was well enough when we parted. I did all I could for him; the rest is in his hands. Dangerous times are ahead for him, I'm afraid."
Sirius closed his eyes. "Still? I would have thought … by now …"
"It has only been a year since you died, Sirius. Voldemort is still alive. Although I expect him to arrive here in due time." There was a steely resolve to his voice that Sirius remembered well from his early Order days.
"Only a year? It can't be," Sirius said softly. "And … while I know I haven't been the best person, I rather thought I'd end up in a different place than You-Know-Who."
Albus brightened. "That's right," he chirped, "if you had no Guide, you don't even know why you are here. This, my boy, is Murdered Limbo." He put his arm around Sirius' shoulders. The two of them stood and surveyed the vast greyness.
"Sorry, what?"
"This is where people who have been murdered wait," said Albus.
"Wait for what?"
"For their murderers."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"It's quite wise, actually," said Albus. "The murderer and their victim must face judgment together. In some cases, there are extenuating circumstances. A person should not automatically be eternally punished for murder."
"That's bollocks. Why do we have to wait for them? They killed us, and we get punished in this awful place while they're still kicking around on Earth? … Hold on a minute. You were murdered?"
An odd expression flitted across Albus' face. Sirius almost thought he looked guilty.
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"Who was it? If you don't mind my asking."
Albus smiled and began to walk again. Sirius strode to catch up, waiting for the story of the murder of Albus Dumbledore. But instead, there was only silence.
"Oh, come on," said Sirius, "it has to be a rollicking good story. Who but a great and powerful wizard could have done you in?"
Albus looked like he was trying not to laugh.
"What? Don't tell me you slipped and fell on the stairs."
Albus shook his head. "I promise, once my murderer has joined us -- though I hope that day is many years away -- I will tell you the entire story. Until then, we should pass the time in more pleasurable ways."
Sirius snorted derisively. "Good luck. This place is more boring than you can possibly imagine."
"Well," said Albus, reaching back and pinching Sirus' bum, "given the appalling lack of Lemon Drops, I suppose we'll have to make do with sex."
::
Sirius was never bored again.
:: Epilogue ::
And so it was that some time later, when Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange arrived in Murdered Limbo at precisely the same time, each dead by the other's hand, the hordes of murder victims greeted them with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.
"It's about time you got here!" they cried out, nearly in unison. "Get those two out of here; we're sick of watching them shag!"
end
Author: janicechess
Giftee: dmitchell1985
Pairing: Sirius/Dumbledore
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~2,100
Summary: The afterlife would be more interesting, Sirius thinks, if only dead people weren't so boring.
A/N: Thanks for such a fun request, dmitchell1985! Thanks bunches to my beta-reader.
Sirius was bored.
It was worse than when he'd been cooped up at 12, Grimmauld Place -- at least then he'd known his time there was finite, even if the confinement had chafed. It was even worse than during all his twelve years at Azkaban. He'd been fighting for his survival back then, focusing on getting out and getting revenge. He'd had a goal, a purpose.
Plus, he'd been a dog most of the time, and dogs, as a rule, don't bore easily.
But this place … this place was hell. Only it wasn't, because hell would presumably be more exciting, with the fire and torture and pitchforks. This place was nothing. Sirius spun in a circle for the millionth time. Grey, grey, grey. No walls, no horizon, no ceiling, no sky. There was nothing but grey, everywhere, no matter how far he walked in either direction. He knew. He had tried.
As far as he was aware, this nothingness was all there ever was going to be, forever and ever. It was so depressing, he wanted to kill himself. But he was already dead.
He couldn't even transform into Padfoot anymore. And his wand was gone. What kind of afterlife didn't have magic? A fucking pathetic one, that's what kind.
"Fuck!" he shouted as loudly as he could.
A group of people huddled nearby looked over at him. They began to whisper amongst themselves, their voices like mice in the walls.
Right. So, technically, he wasn't surrounded only by nothingness. He was surrounded by nothingness and lots of other people. But they weren't interesting people. They were all so somber and serious and boring. He'd learned by now that talking to them led only to frustration, so he studiously avoided them.
But frustration was better than boredom, wasn't it? At least it was different. And he hadn't talked to any of this lot before, he didn't think. Maybe one of them would surprise him.
He sauntered towards the group in what he assumed was an alluring fashion, trying to catch the eye of a rather fetching bird with short blonde hair.
"Anyone fancy a shag?"
The woman grimaced, not looking at him. Sirius shifted his attention to a slim Asian man. "How about it, then? Anyone up for a--"
"We're dead, you know," said a pale, doughy man. He was young but had a small bald spot on the top of his head.
Fucking hell. They were just the same as all the rest. Sirius clasped his hands together and placed them over his heart. "We're dead? Oh, woe is me. Whatever shall I do? I'm dead! My life is over! … But wait, what's this? I still have a body! And … can it be?" He shifted his right hand down and cupped himself through his trousers. "It's a miracle! Little John Thomas made it to the other side as well! … Of course, when I say little I really mean enormous. It's just a term of endearment."
"How can you think of such vulgar things at a time like this?" It was the blonde woman; her expression reminded Sirius of a long-ago family reunion. "We've just lost everything! Our children, our friends ..."
Sirius sighed. At first, he had been sad, of course. He'd been completely distraught at having left Harry and Remus and all the others behind. But, he'd realized, life goes on. Or afterlife goes on, as it were. Ten years must have passed since then.
"Come off it, there's no use being depressed for all eternity. Your families will end up here eventually, you'll--" Sirius stopped talking when he heard a collective gasp of horror rise from the group.
"How dare you?" the woman said. She looked like she wanted to slap him. "Our children will live long, full lives. They will not end up here."
"What? What are you on about?"
The woman turned to the balding man, her face smug. "He wasn't paying attention on his way here." She turned back to Sirius. "I'm not surprised. You should have listened to your Guide."
She turned and walked away; the rest of the group followed.
"Guide? I didn't have a guide! I fell through a fucking curtain!" Sirius wanted to kick something. Where was a wall when you needed one?
::
Time stretched onward even further, and Sirius gave up trying to talk to anybody. No one would tell him anything, other than, "you should have listened to your Guide." No one would just have a chat about something trivial, like socks or whisky or bananas. And no one was ever up for a shag.
There had been one young man -- he couldn't have been older than twenty -- who had almost kissed him. He had been adorably shy, with deep brown eyes and sandy brown hair. But then he'd disappeared, literally, right from under Sirius' nose. He'd closed his eyes, anticipating the feel of another person's lips and tongue, the warmth and wetness and glorious taste of it. He'd opened his mouth ever so slightly, waiting … and then nothing. When he'd opened his eyes, the man was gone.
He took to wanking as often as he could. It was difficult to find a spot where he had even a small amount of privacy, but after a while he stopped caring.
::
Sirius had just woken up from a nap when he saw the man, standing about one hundred yards away, his hands planted on his hips. There was something about him that made it impossible for Sirius to look away. He studied the strange man, trying to unravel the mystery. It wasn't his long, auburn hair or his eyes, which were so brightly blue they were visible from where Sirius sat. It was something else about his face.
When Sirius realized what it was, he started to laugh. The man was smiling. He hadn't seen anyone smile in what felt like a hundred years.
The man looked over, his smile broadening when he saw Sirius. He began to walk over, and Sirius felt a tight ball of nerves form in the pit of his stomach.
"Come on, Black," he muttered to himself, "don't blow this. It may be your only chance at decent companionship for all eternity." But no pressure, he thought, chuckling, as the man stopped in front of him.
"Hello!" the man said. "I've been looking for you. You have yourself quite a reputation."
"Have I?" said Sirius casually. "Well, you know how it goes … it's hard for someone as scintillating as me to go unnoticed."
The man said nothing, but simply stood and grinned at Sirius. His eyes were twinkling with … was that friendliness? Interest, even? Sirius didn't want to misinterpret (yet again), but he was seriously, desperately lonely. And not a little horny.
Fuck it, what did he have to lose?
Sirius clasped the man by the sides of his face, leaned forward, and kissed him. The man made a curious noise, half surprise and half delight, and kissed him back. Rather vigorously, with quite a lot of tongue.
It was wonderful. It was … heavenly. Sirius felt a tingle of electricity flow through him at the long-craved human touch. He was drowning, he was flying, he--
The man pulled away, still smiling. "Why, Sirius," he said, "I had no idea you felt that way about me. That was marvelous."
Sirius scampered backwards in surprise, tripping over his own feet. He landed on his backside with a dull thud, staring at the man all the while. Suddenly, the voice was sounding vaguely familiar. But the face … it was too young. He looked closely at the eyes--
"Professor Dumbledore??"
::
It had taken Sirius several minutes to recover from his shock. Albus (as he'd insisted Sirius call him) had been quite amused by the reaction. "In my day, I used to be able to knock them off their feet," he had said. "It's good to know I still have that ability, even when I'm dead."
Albus had suggested they walk, and so they had. It had helped a little. When Sirius looked at him now, he had a harder time seeing the face of the old man he had known.
That reminded him; he'd wanted to ask something.
"Why do you look so young?"
"Everyone here is in the prime of their life. Did you not notice?"
Sirius stopped and looked around him. Bugger, he was right. How had he not seen that before?
Albus chuckled. "You didn't listen to what your Guide--"
"Wait. Sorry for interrupting, but what the f-- what are these guides I keep hearing about? It's all these people want to talk about."
"Do you remember, on your way here, there was a being who guided you through the transformation back to your younger self? I'd imagine for you, being as young as you are, the process was short. Perhaps you didn't even notice."
Sirius sighed, frustration boiling up in him. "Last thing I remember, I was fighting my dear old cousin. Then I fell through some arch, and when I got up again, I was here."
"Fascinating. Perhaps your manner of death short-circuited the normal process. You must have been terribly confused."
"Confused? I was out of my mind! One minute you're in a battle, the next--" Sirius stopped, grabbing Albus' arm. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought to ask this before. What was wrong with him?
"Harry. Is he all right? How is he? He must be all grown up by now. Did he get married? Does he have children? Is he happy?"
Albus patted Sirius' hand. "Harry … was well enough when we parted. I did all I could for him; the rest is in his hands. Dangerous times are ahead for him, I'm afraid."
Sirius closed his eyes. "Still? I would have thought … by now …"
"It has only been a year since you died, Sirius. Voldemort is still alive. Although I expect him to arrive here in due time." There was a steely resolve to his voice that Sirius remembered well from his early Order days.
"Only a year? It can't be," Sirius said softly. "And … while I know I haven't been the best person, I rather thought I'd end up in a different place than You-Know-Who."
Albus brightened. "That's right," he chirped, "if you had no Guide, you don't even know why you are here. This, my boy, is Murdered Limbo." He put his arm around Sirius' shoulders. The two of them stood and surveyed the vast greyness.
"Sorry, what?"
"This is where people who have been murdered wait," said Albus.
"Wait for what?"
"For their murderers."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"It's quite wise, actually," said Albus. "The murderer and their victim must face judgment together. In some cases, there are extenuating circumstances. A person should not automatically be eternally punished for murder."
"That's bollocks. Why do we have to wait for them? They killed us, and we get punished in this awful place while they're still kicking around on Earth? … Hold on a minute. You were murdered?"
An odd expression flitted across Albus' face. Sirius almost thought he looked guilty.
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"Who was it? If you don't mind my asking."
Albus smiled and began to walk again. Sirius strode to catch up, waiting for the story of the murder of Albus Dumbledore. But instead, there was only silence.
"Oh, come on," said Sirius, "it has to be a rollicking good story. Who but a great and powerful wizard could have done you in?"
Albus looked like he was trying not to laugh.
"What? Don't tell me you slipped and fell on the stairs."
Albus shook his head. "I promise, once my murderer has joined us -- though I hope that day is many years away -- I will tell you the entire story. Until then, we should pass the time in more pleasurable ways."
Sirius snorted derisively. "Good luck. This place is more boring than you can possibly imagine."
"Well," said Albus, reaching back and pinching Sirus' bum, "given the appalling lack of Lemon Drops, I suppose we'll have to make do with sex."
::
Sirius was never bored again.
:: Epilogue ::
And so it was that some time later, when Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange arrived in Murdered Limbo at precisely the same time, each dead by the other's hand, the hordes of murder victims greeted them with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.
"It's about time you got here!" they cried out, nearly in unison. "Get those two out of here; we're sick of watching them shag!"
end