fic: Noël (HP; Remus/Sirius; pg)
So I decided to write a drabble or ficlet or, in some cases, a full length story, for each of the West Wing episode titles. I am not anywhere near done, but I am ready to start posting. Longer explanation and list of stories here.
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Noël
Harry Potter; Remus/Sirius; pg; 521 words
"Come back to bed, Sirius. I'm too old and decrepit to be rolling about on the floor."
For amberlynne. Thanks to luzdeestrellas for looking it over, and to mousapelli for the Latin help.
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Noël
When Remus wakes up, Sirius is gone, the sheets on his side of the bed cool to the touch.
Sirius doesn't sleep much these days, and he sleeps lightly when he does, easily woken by the slightest creak or shift of the house, which seems to take malicious pleasure in keeping its master from his rest. Remus had hoped the holiday festivities, and the worry about Arthur, would tire Sirius out, but he's probably over-stimulated now.
Remus pulls on a jumper over his pajamas and shoves his feet into the wooly slippers Molly knitted him, and heads downstairs to the kitchen, but Sirius isn't sitting at the table staring into the hearth, glass of firewhisky at his elbow, the way he so often is on these cold, sleepless nights. Sometimes he visits with Buckbeak, his fellow inmate, and Remus sighs, thinking he should have checked there first, and possibly saved himself a trip through the chilly corridors and down the long, steep staircase.
On his way back to the stairs, he sees colorful lights flickering beneath the door to the parlor. He pushes the door open to find Sirius lying beneath the Christmas tree, fairy lights twinkling merrily, dappling his face with a rainbow of colors.
"Hi," Remus says, lowering himself slowly to the floor, his knees creaking in protest.
"Fancy meeting you here," Sirius answers.
Remus laughs, the tension in his chest easing, and for a moment, he can forget, can believe this is the Sirius he knew and loved as a young man, before war, fear, and betrayal stole their lives away.
"All right there, Sirius?"
"Just grand, Moony. Look." He points and Remus tips his head back, stares up into the branches of the tree, the lights blinking hypnotically. "It's the cup and saucer, see. Known as posculum et patera in the Latin."
Remus remembers this game from the Christmases they spent together at Hogwarts, feels his chest ache at Sirius's quiet joy, and tries to make out the shape Sirius is pointing at. "Ah yes," he says, wondering if he's mad to wish on imaginary constellations made of fairy lights. "And is that the quaffle?"
"Why yes, yes it is. Well-spotted, Mr. Moony." When Remus turns to look at Sirius, Sirius is already looking at him, mouth curved in a mischievous grin. "And our old friend, the rather springy wand."
"Virga gracilior," Remus translates solemnly, biting his lower lip to keep from laughing. "Are we about to be treated to shower of sparks from its tip?"
Sirius's hand is gentle on Remus's neck, and his mouth is warm and wet against Remus's lips. "If you play your cards right."
Remus laughs into the kiss, and when he pulls away, he says, "Come back to bed, Sirius. I'm too old and decrepit to be rolling about on the floor."
He gets up slowly, joints cracking, and offers a hand to Sirius, who takes it, and rises with an echo of his former grace.
They make their way up the stairs slowly, jostling and kissing in turn, before tumbling into bed, and Remus thinks his Christmas wish has been granted.
end
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12/24/07
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Merry Christmas!
~*~
~*~
Noël
Harry Potter; Remus/Sirius; pg; 521 words
"Come back to bed, Sirius. I'm too old and decrepit to be rolling about on the floor."
For amberlynne. Thanks to luzdeestrellas for looking it over, and to mousapelli for the Latin help.
~*~
Noël
When Remus wakes up, Sirius is gone, the sheets on his side of the bed cool to the touch.
Sirius doesn't sleep much these days, and he sleeps lightly when he does, easily woken by the slightest creak or shift of the house, which seems to take malicious pleasure in keeping its master from his rest. Remus had hoped the holiday festivities, and the worry about Arthur, would tire Sirius out, but he's probably over-stimulated now.
Remus pulls on a jumper over his pajamas and shoves his feet into the wooly slippers Molly knitted him, and heads downstairs to the kitchen, but Sirius isn't sitting at the table staring into the hearth, glass of firewhisky at his elbow, the way he so often is on these cold, sleepless nights. Sometimes he visits with Buckbeak, his fellow inmate, and Remus sighs, thinking he should have checked there first, and possibly saved himself a trip through the chilly corridors and down the long, steep staircase.
On his way back to the stairs, he sees colorful lights flickering beneath the door to the parlor. He pushes the door open to find Sirius lying beneath the Christmas tree, fairy lights twinkling merrily, dappling his face with a rainbow of colors.
"Hi," Remus says, lowering himself slowly to the floor, his knees creaking in protest.
"Fancy meeting you here," Sirius answers.
Remus laughs, the tension in his chest easing, and for a moment, he can forget, can believe this is the Sirius he knew and loved as a young man, before war, fear, and betrayal stole their lives away.
"All right there, Sirius?"
"Just grand, Moony. Look." He points and Remus tips his head back, stares up into the branches of the tree, the lights blinking hypnotically. "It's the cup and saucer, see. Known as posculum et patera in the Latin."
Remus remembers this game from the Christmases they spent together at Hogwarts, feels his chest ache at Sirius's quiet joy, and tries to make out the shape Sirius is pointing at. "Ah yes," he says, wondering if he's mad to wish on imaginary constellations made of fairy lights. "And is that the quaffle?"
"Why yes, yes it is. Well-spotted, Mr. Moony." When Remus turns to look at Sirius, Sirius is already looking at him, mouth curved in a mischievous grin. "And our old friend, the rather springy wand."
"Virga gracilior," Remus translates solemnly, biting his lower lip to keep from laughing. "Are we about to be treated to shower of sparks from its tip?"
Sirius's hand is gentle on Remus's neck, and his mouth is warm and wet against Remus's lips. "If you play your cards right."
Remus laughs into the kiss, and when he pulls away, he says, "Come back to bed, Sirius. I'm too old and decrepit to be rolling about on the floor."
He gets up slowly, joints cracking, and offers a hand to Sirius, who takes it, and rises with an echo of his former grace.
They make their way up the stairs slowly, jostling and kissing in turn, before tumbling into bed, and Remus thinks his Christmas wish has been granted.
end
~*~
12/24/07
~*~
Merry Christmas!
~*~