(no subject)
Title: Suitai
Author: memoryhouse
Format: drabble/ficlet
Word Count: 438
Rating: PG for alcohol consumption.
Summary: Using the May prompt of the Japanese tavern. This takes place during OotP. Tonks’ secret is obvious. Suitai means intoxication.
This is my first post to Kaleidoscopefur. Hi everyone!
There’s something appealing about the phrase ‘as drunk as lords.’ Good imagery, and an adequate description of our little triad here tonight, sitting in the kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Sirius spins the empty bottle of sake in his hands, gradually levitating it into the air, a dervish of Japanese characters and yellow-green glass glinting in the flickering light from the fireplace.
Remus watches him with warm grey eyes, and laughs with such loveliness as they dive into an animated debate on whether it was James or Sirius that was the more ridiculous show-off in their Hogwarts days. Eventually they settle on James, possibly because it was true, but more likely because he isn’t here to defend himself. The second bottle of sake is empty now.
“There was this Japanese poet,” I say, drawing them back to the present before the mood takes a swing toward melancholy, “who wrote more than two hundred poems about sake.” Sirius opens the third bottle as we discuss the character of a person who’d dedicate their life to writing poetry about alcohol.
The kitchen is warm and filled with animated comradery, and I keep it that way, anticipating and steering the conversation before it can take a dive each time. Sirius is oblivious, but Remus, who is dangerously more observant, gives me a sweet smile each time he sees me at work. I don’t know whether to bask in his attention or feel embarrassingly heavy handed for being caught.
The third bottle is halfway empty now, and Sirius, who has consumed at least six shots more than either of us, has just fallen asleep in mid drink. Remus cleans off his face and hands, and we wake him enough so that we can guide him up the three flights of stairs to his room. We could always levitate him, I suppose, but Remus doesn’t mention it so I keep my mouth shut. I think he considers it too undignified for his friend, so we stagger up the staircase with our arms draped around the drowsing black haired man.
With Sirius tucked in like a child, we make our way back down the stairs to the brisk October night on the other side of the door. I trail slightly behind him so that I can see his shoulder blades move under his thin grey jumper. I watch as the light from the flickering candles in the hall illuminates his hair, soft strands of grey reflecting more than the brown. I want to run my fingers through it. I wonder when I became so smitten. I wonder if he notices.
Author: memoryhouse
Format: drabble/ficlet
Word Count: 438
Rating: PG for alcohol consumption.
Summary: Using the May prompt of the Japanese tavern. This takes place during OotP. Tonks’ secret is obvious. Suitai means intoxication.
This is my first post to Kaleidoscopefur. Hi everyone!
There’s something appealing about the phrase ‘as drunk as lords.’ Good imagery, and an adequate description of our little triad here tonight, sitting in the kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Sirius spins the empty bottle of sake in his hands, gradually levitating it into the air, a dervish of Japanese characters and yellow-green glass glinting in the flickering light from the fireplace.
Remus watches him with warm grey eyes, and laughs with such loveliness as they dive into an animated debate on whether it was James or Sirius that was the more ridiculous show-off in their Hogwarts days. Eventually they settle on James, possibly because it was true, but more likely because he isn’t here to defend himself. The second bottle of sake is empty now.
“There was this Japanese poet,” I say, drawing them back to the present before the mood takes a swing toward melancholy, “who wrote more than two hundred poems about sake.” Sirius opens the third bottle as we discuss the character of a person who’d dedicate their life to writing poetry about alcohol.
The kitchen is warm and filled with animated comradery, and I keep it that way, anticipating and steering the conversation before it can take a dive each time. Sirius is oblivious, but Remus, who is dangerously more observant, gives me a sweet smile each time he sees me at work. I don’t know whether to bask in his attention or feel embarrassingly heavy handed for being caught.
The third bottle is halfway empty now, and Sirius, who has consumed at least six shots more than either of us, has just fallen asleep in mid drink. Remus cleans off his face and hands, and we wake him enough so that we can guide him up the three flights of stairs to his room. We could always levitate him, I suppose, but Remus doesn’t mention it so I keep my mouth shut. I think he considers it too undignified for his friend, so we stagger up the staircase with our arms draped around the drowsing black haired man.
With Sirius tucked in like a child, we make our way back down the stairs to the brisk October night on the other side of the door. I trail slightly behind him so that I can see his shoulder blades move under his thin grey jumper. I watch as the light from the flickering candles in the hall illuminates his hair, soft strands of grey reflecting more than the brown. I want to run my fingers through it. I wonder when I became so smitten. I wonder if he notices.