harry potter - Watching the moon (pg)
Title: Watching the moon
Author: risa
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Summary: The Yule Ball takes place during their seventh Christmas at Hogwarts, but Sirius and Remus aren't interested.
It’s the perfect coincidence: on the night of Yule Ball, 1978, Remus Lupin escapes his overenthusiastic date and heads toward the balcony for air. It’s a slow song, a heart-wrenching power ballad by a wizarding band he’s never heard of, and the Great Hall is stuffy with heat and pent-up energy. The wide balcony, surprisingly, is empty-except for the familiar silhouette beside him.
“What happened to Cattelya?” Remus asks, curious; Sirius (unlike himself) is not the type to abandon a date mid-evening.
“Don’t know,” Sirius replies, his mind clearly elsewhere. He adds, mumbling, “Don’t really care.”
Sirius’s eyes are focused on the moon: precariously close to full, but still a few nights shy. The end of the school year is approaching; a little bit of darkness has invaded nearly everyone’s heart. In these moods, Sirius is unreadable.
The awful ballad is replaced by a more upbeat tune while they stand in companionable silence. Remus finds that he prefers this-infinitely-over the glamour and drama of the celebration. He watches the moon, tonight, with Sirius, and wonders what the other is seeing in its haunting glow.
“…I lost my date, too,” he volunteers, at last, in hopes of pulling Sirius from his mood. “Purposely.”
At that, Sirius cracks a grin and looks over questioningly. It’s an undeniably canine movement-head tilted, slightly, to the side; brow furrowed; eyes narrowed. The music that floats out to the balcony now is lyrical, elegant, a three-step waltz; it makes him think of Sirius, who has lived his life in unwanted aristocracy.
Beyond the large glass doors, the party continues in full-swing-a spurt of particularly cheerful laughter reaches his ear, and he remembers, suddenly that he and Sirius are surrounded by couples. The sticky-sweet hopes and expectations that fill every corner of the hall weigh him down until he feels uncomfortable meeting Sirius’s gaze.
As if noticing the shift the other boy’s thoughts, Sirius takes a step back from the ivory railing and glances in at the dancers. Reaching an arm out to his companion, he asks, “Want to dance?”
Grateful and hesitant at once, Remus takes Sirius’s hand nervously, trying not to think about the utter strangeness of this moment. The positioning is awkward; his mind is jumbled with whose hands where? and how close is too close?
The waltz is pushed to the background, overpowered by the relentless thumping of his heart. Positioning figured out, Remus remembers something more important-I don’t know how to dance.
There’s no time for pondering trivialities. Sirius leans close enough to share breath and they begin to move.
Their waltz is a mess of awkwardly-swaying limbs, too much pull and not enough push. The music is soft and slow, but the beats move too quickly for untrained feet, and with a partner, impossible.
Years of cooperation in mischief-making haven’t prepared them for reading each other’s movements this quickly. Several minutes of bumping and almost-tripping elapse before Sirius steps on Remus’s foot, hard, and they both fall away, laughing.
“I don’t know how to dance,” Sirius confesses, with a small grin, “and I guess it’s not something you pick up naturally.”
“I don’t either,” Remus replies, laughing, “so we’re both fools.”
They’re apart for only a moment. An almost-synchronized glance passes between them and they resume their positions silently-it’s Marauders’ pride, perhaps. They try again.
Sirius’s face is a mask of concentration, and his grip on Remus’s shoulder is firm, measured. The first few steps are slow; for a moment the music is forgotten and the two are absorbed in finding a pace, establishing a steady give and take.
A step forward, a step to the right, and back… what was insufferably clumsy becomes coordinated, almost graceful. The great surge of exhilaration he feels is surely not merited by having accomplished such a simple task, but it’s there nonetheless-expanding in his chest and lungs, robbing him of breath and leaving him with a strangely lightheaded feeling.
When the song ends, Remus isn’t sure if he wants to stop. They’re far from perfect, but he knows that he’ll remember those few minutes spent flailing awkwardly better than any other moment this evening.
Sirius smiles at him brightly as they move apart, a sense of accomplishment clear in his expression as well, and Remus finds himself pulled irresistibly into an answering grin.
The hours pass quickly. They’re still sitting out on the wide ivory balcony, facing the moon and the stars and the world even as the last few couples say goodnight to tonight’s fairytale ball.
Talking and not talking, with Sirius, are just as pleasant. Words seem superfluous when he can feel the other’s body heat from the shoulder pressed firmly against his own. If he listens carefully enough, he can hear a vague pulsing beat, and he isn’t sure if it’s Sirius’s or his own.
They sit together in silence, listening to the wistful echoes that still linger in the empty banquet hall and basking in the easy warmth they share.
Remus is watching the moon, tonight, with Sirius, and for the first time in his life, he feels invincible.
--
This story's real title-- at least, the one that was in my head the whole time as I was writing this-- is 踊れない物同士. It doesn't translate out as gracefully. It means-- "two people who both can't dance." It's a nice image, I think.
Author: risa
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Summary: The Yule Ball takes place during their seventh Christmas at Hogwarts, but Sirius and Remus aren't interested.
It’s the perfect coincidence: on the night of Yule Ball, 1978, Remus Lupin escapes his overenthusiastic date and heads toward the balcony for air. It’s a slow song, a heart-wrenching power ballad by a wizarding band he’s never heard of, and the Great Hall is stuffy with heat and pent-up energy. The wide balcony, surprisingly, is empty-except for the familiar silhouette beside him.
“What happened to Cattelya?” Remus asks, curious; Sirius (unlike himself) is not the type to abandon a date mid-evening.
“Don’t know,” Sirius replies, his mind clearly elsewhere. He adds, mumbling, “Don’t really care.”
Sirius’s eyes are focused on the moon: precariously close to full, but still a few nights shy. The end of the school year is approaching; a little bit of darkness has invaded nearly everyone’s heart. In these moods, Sirius is unreadable.
The awful ballad is replaced by a more upbeat tune while they stand in companionable silence. Remus finds that he prefers this-infinitely-over the glamour and drama of the celebration. He watches the moon, tonight, with Sirius, and wonders what the other is seeing in its haunting glow.
“…I lost my date, too,” he volunteers, at last, in hopes of pulling Sirius from his mood. “Purposely.”
At that, Sirius cracks a grin and looks over questioningly. It’s an undeniably canine movement-head tilted, slightly, to the side; brow furrowed; eyes narrowed. The music that floats out to the balcony now is lyrical, elegant, a three-step waltz; it makes him think of Sirius, who has lived his life in unwanted aristocracy.
Beyond the large glass doors, the party continues in full-swing-a spurt of particularly cheerful laughter reaches his ear, and he remembers, suddenly that he and Sirius are surrounded by couples. The sticky-sweet hopes and expectations that fill every corner of the hall weigh him down until he feels uncomfortable meeting Sirius’s gaze.
As if noticing the shift the other boy’s thoughts, Sirius takes a step back from the ivory railing and glances in at the dancers. Reaching an arm out to his companion, he asks, “Want to dance?”
Grateful and hesitant at once, Remus takes Sirius’s hand nervously, trying not to think about the utter strangeness of this moment. The positioning is awkward; his mind is jumbled with whose hands where? and how close is too close?
The waltz is pushed to the background, overpowered by the relentless thumping of his heart. Positioning figured out, Remus remembers something more important-I don’t know how to dance.
There’s no time for pondering trivialities. Sirius leans close enough to share breath and they begin to move.
Their waltz is a mess of awkwardly-swaying limbs, too much pull and not enough push. The music is soft and slow, but the beats move too quickly for untrained feet, and with a partner, impossible.
Years of cooperation in mischief-making haven’t prepared them for reading each other’s movements this quickly. Several minutes of bumping and almost-tripping elapse before Sirius steps on Remus’s foot, hard, and they both fall away, laughing.
“I don’t know how to dance,” Sirius confesses, with a small grin, “and I guess it’s not something you pick up naturally.”
“I don’t either,” Remus replies, laughing, “so we’re both fools.”
They’re apart for only a moment. An almost-synchronized glance passes between them and they resume their positions silently-it’s Marauders’ pride, perhaps. They try again.
Sirius’s face is a mask of concentration, and his grip on Remus’s shoulder is firm, measured. The first few steps are slow; for a moment the music is forgotten and the two are absorbed in finding a pace, establishing a steady give and take.
A step forward, a step to the right, and back… what was insufferably clumsy becomes coordinated, almost graceful. The great surge of exhilaration he feels is surely not merited by having accomplished such a simple task, but it’s there nonetheless-expanding in his chest and lungs, robbing him of breath and leaving him with a strangely lightheaded feeling.
When the song ends, Remus isn’t sure if he wants to stop. They’re far from perfect, but he knows that he’ll remember those few minutes spent flailing awkwardly better than any other moment this evening.
Sirius smiles at him brightly as they move apart, a sense of accomplishment clear in his expression as well, and Remus finds himself pulled irresistibly into an answering grin.
The hours pass quickly. They’re still sitting out on the wide ivory balcony, facing the moon and the stars and the world even as the last few couples say goodnight to tonight’s fairytale ball.
Talking and not talking, with Sirius, are just as pleasant. Words seem superfluous when he can feel the other’s body heat from the shoulder pressed firmly against his own. If he listens carefully enough, he can hear a vague pulsing beat, and he isn’t sure if it’s Sirius’s or his own.
They sit together in silence, listening to the wistful echoes that still linger in the empty banquet hall and basking in the easy warmth they share.
Remus is watching the moon, tonight, with Sirius, and for the first time in his life, he feels invincible.
--
This story's real title-- at least, the one that was in my head the whole time as I was writing this-- is 踊れない物同士. It doesn't translate out as gracefully. It means-- "two people who both can't dance." It's a nice image, I think.