REQUEST POST STRIKES BACK
Hey guys! I've got a spare Archive of Our Own invitation; anyone want it? First come first serve. All gone! But athenemiranda has a whole bunch of them, if you still want one. Just let me (or her) know.
Also, I've been in sort of a writing slump, so I think it's time for another request post!
REQUEST POST.For those inexperienced with this phenomenon ( Read more... )
Also, I've been in sort of a writing slump, so I think it's time for another request post!
REQUEST POST.For those inexperienced with this phenomenon ( Read more... )
After a moment he reaches over and replaces some of the research notes (useless) to preserve the scent. The key he keeps, tucked into his trousers pocket, hung on a ring under a cabinet in the kitchen. The scent clings to him all day as he wanders around the apartment. He drinks a cup of tea around six and at seven takes the key again and Apparates back to Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
"I found something of interest," he murmurs to Sirius as the Order gathers around the table; the quick, strained smile isn't quite worth it. Remus passes him the keys under the table, and Sirius stiffens but has the self-control not to say anything until the meeting's through and people are vanishing again.
"You're shitting me," Sirius says. "You kept the key?"
"It was in a sweater pocket," Remus admits.
Sirius laughs, and it doesn't even matter that he's laughing at Remus. "You kept the bloody key. Remus, you never change, do you?" He claps a hand on Remus' shoulder, shaking his head. "Let's go see it."
"What?"
"Our old flat. Let's go."
Remus turns his head to meet Sirius' eyes, an awkward angle. "You can't leave. Sirius. You know that."
"Come on, one trip, they'll never even know we're gone. No one will see us. For old times' sake, Moony, come on!"
The problem with arguing with Sirius is that Sirius assumes he's going to get his way, and Remus assumes he's going to have to compromise, and so one side is already predisposed to winning. Sirius is already getting that victory grin, but Remus has a final card to play.
"The building isn't there anymore," he says. "It burnt down the year after... things went bad."
The shock on Sirius' face is rather more profound than Remus expected. Not a hint of the suspicion that might have been there at Hogwarts, or before or during the war. When did Sirius decide to take everything he said as the undeniable truth? Surely he would've noticed before. Maybe it was just this place getting to him, so that anyone not a Black suddenly looked honourable and trustworthy; maybe it was that it was either trust or fall apart. Or then again, maybe Sirius would've believed him before the war as well. After all, he'd trusted in Peter.
"You never said," Sirius says after a moment.
"It made sense then to keep moving, the work that I was doing," Remus replies with a shrug. "It doesn't matter. It wasn't even that strange -- some idiot forgot to turn off the gas, the place blew. Tragic, but there was so much worse happening all around us."
"So you kept the key."
"Didn't know what else to do with it."
Remus could tell him about keeping it around his neck like Muggle soldiers wore dogtags, have a laugh over the name, skim over the purpose of such an identification. Maybe Sirius would enjoy knowing that -- or maybe he'd just feel guilty about it, like he's guilty about everything. There's a lot Remus doesn't tell him these days. The shadows under his eyes and the lankness of his hair are evidence enough that he's already got plenty to worry about.
"If you weren't a wolf, you'd be a magpie," Sirius snorts, and tugs on Remus' shoulder; Remus obliges and leans down for the kiss. It's softer than usual, a more relaxed Sirius. One bad days, Remus sometimes has bruises later where his fingers were clenched too tightly. They're still making the best of what they've got, and they still haven't got all that much. But they're older now. There wouldn't be anything for them at the old flat on Worcester Street anymore.
When Remus gets home sometime later that night, he opens the chest again and replaces the key in the sweater pocket where he found it. He says, to no one in particular, "I'll get rid of it later."
He doubts he will, though.
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You need to do this more often.
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and I really do. I think I am getting back into the fandom more seriously, though. Siriusly, even. :D
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