2nd Drabble-Day of Christmas!
For Sazzlette, who bravely told me to write what struck my fancy. :)
Title: Tenuous
Characters: Sirius/Harry with shades of Sirius/James
Word count: 423
Rating: PG-13
His motions are jerky and maniacal, his mind unstable. Azkaban-addled, he hears Moody say. Harry still spends as much time as he can with him.
After Sirius kisses him, he murmurs, “James,” stroking his hair as if by habit.
Harry hates how bitter he’s not.
*
Mrs. Weasley gives Sirius disapproving looks at every turn, but Harry doesn’t think that she knows.
Sirius is loud and boisterous in the daylight, and pushy and eager and needy in the dark. Harry goes to Sirius’s room (Ron never notices, or chooses not to notice, Harry isn’t sure which, though he has a story about insomnia and hot milk ready every time) because its decayed decadence makes him think they’re in a different universe.
Sometimes, in between kisses, Sirius talks about the old days. About Lily (jealousy) and Remus (love) and Peter (hatred). About James, whose name is always a soft sigh or a laugh or annoyed but always fond, loving.
Those are the moments Harry longs for.
*
“Remember when we snuck out of here on my flying motorcycle?” Sirius laughs, kissing Harry’s chest.
Harry shakes his head.
“One hell of a night,” Sirius continues. He is lower, and lower, and Harry gasps and tangles his fingers in uneven black hair. “You had such a hard time explaining those bite marks to Lily. Claimed it was a run-in with a dog.”
Sirius’s teeth close on the vulnerable skin on the inside of Harry’s thigh.
“You never could lie to her,” he whispers.
Harry writhes.
*
Sirius throws open the window, and leans out, breathing in the cold, damp air until Harry jerks him back inside.
“You can’t do that,” he hisses. “You’ll get caught.”
Sirius doesn’t really think that can happen. Harry can tell. But he continues his imprisonment in the home he so desperately wanted to get away from forever, and complains bitterly the entire time.
Sirius has precious few memories of James within these walls. Sometimes Harry thinks there is no James here and only Harry, and is glad for Sirius’s seclusion. Other times he wishes that there were places he could go here and maybe feel his father’s shade, doing the same thing decades before.
Sirius gets confused when Harry asks him to tell him about what James had done, not Harry (I am not him I am myself, Harry thinks for painful seconds before giving in).
Sirius calls him Harry in the daylight.
The nights belong to James.
It’s a tenuous connection to his past, Harry knows, but he cherishes it nonetheless.
Title: Tenuous
Characters: Sirius/Harry with shades of Sirius/James
Word count: 423
Rating: PG-13
His motions are jerky and maniacal, his mind unstable. Azkaban-addled, he hears Moody say. Harry still spends as much time as he can with him.
After Sirius kisses him, he murmurs, “James,” stroking his hair as if by habit.
Harry hates how bitter he’s not.
*
Mrs. Weasley gives Sirius disapproving looks at every turn, but Harry doesn’t think that she knows.
Sirius is loud and boisterous in the daylight, and pushy and eager and needy in the dark. Harry goes to Sirius’s room (Ron never notices, or chooses not to notice, Harry isn’t sure which, though he has a story about insomnia and hot milk ready every time) because its decayed decadence makes him think they’re in a different universe.
Sometimes, in between kisses, Sirius talks about the old days. About Lily (jealousy) and Remus (love) and Peter (hatred). About James, whose name is always a soft sigh or a laugh or annoyed but always fond, loving.
Those are the moments Harry longs for.
*
“Remember when we snuck out of here on my flying motorcycle?” Sirius laughs, kissing Harry’s chest.
Harry shakes his head.
“One hell of a night,” Sirius continues. He is lower, and lower, and Harry gasps and tangles his fingers in uneven black hair. “You had such a hard time explaining those bite marks to Lily. Claimed it was a run-in with a dog.”
Sirius’s teeth close on the vulnerable skin on the inside of Harry’s thigh.
“You never could lie to her,” he whispers.
Harry writhes.
*
Sirius throws open the window, and leans out, breathing in the cold, damp air until Harry jerks him back inside.
“You can’t do that,” he hisses. “You’ll get caught.”
Sirius doesn’t really think that can happen. Harry can tell. But he continues his imprisonment in the home he so desperately wanted to get away from forever, and complains bitterly the entire time.
Sirius has precious few memories of James within these walls. Sometimes Harry thinks there is no James here and only Harry, and is glad for Sirius’s seclusion. Other times he wishes that there were places he could go here and maybe feel his father’s shade, doing the same thing decades before.
Sirius gets confused when Harry asks him to tell him about what James had done, not Harry (I am not him I am myself, Harry thinks for painful seconds before giving in).
Sirius calls him Harry in the daylight.
The nights belong to James.
It’s a tenuous connection to his past, Harry knows, but he cherishes it nonetheless.