A Twilight Wooing (scarvesnhats Day 06)
I II III IV V VI
Title: A Twilight Wooing
Rating: PG
Words: 697
Prompt: Harvest moon
Disclaimer: They belong to JKR. I’m just borrowing them.
Notes: Can't take any claim for the apron, thankfully. Let's just say one of the twins gave it to Molly as a Christmas present and she couldn't quite bear to bin it.
Remus could really have done without Sirius’ full-throated Celestina Warbeck impression this morning, particularly as it included the trombone effects.
“Shine on, shine on, harvest mooooony, up in the sky…”
Remus sunk lower into his chair and willed his headache to take over to the point where he could no longer actually hear.
“…ain’t had no lovin’ since Jan-han-hanuary, February, June or July!”
The pink feather duster whistled over his head, slamming a shrieking, battle-crazed doxy against the wall. Its death-squeal made Remus’ teeth ache, spearing down into every throbbing bone in his body. He whimpered softly and tried to gather the energy to move away.
“Boo-do-ba-do, ba-da, boo-boo-da-boo.”
The problem was that wherever he went, Sirius followed him. He wanted the old, lively Sirius back, of course he did. He’d just forgotten that that Sirius had a bad habit of bouncing at him.
When the next doxy hit him on the head, he felt thoroughly justified in shrieking like a girl and incinerating it on the spot. When the smoke cleared, he lowered his wand guiltily to find Sirius peering at him curiously. He was wearing a large plastic apron which read, CAT - the other white meat! and was wielding a feather duster like a Beater’s bat.
“Alright there, Moony?”
“Headache,” Remus said weakly and closed his eyes.
He heard the chair creak as Sirius settled on the arm. Then Sirius asked hesitantly, “When’s the moon?”
“Tomorrow,” Remus said softly. “It’s - it’s not as bad as it used to be, really.”
“I always used to know,” Sirius murmured, his fingers creeping round Remus’ wrist again. “What did I do, Moony? I did something, didn’t I?”
Remus smiled at him. “You used to hex anyone who came near me. It was well meant.”
Sirius grinned and dropped his feather duster. “Do you want me to hex someone now?”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Remus said hurriedly. The only person he was expecting to see today was Severus with his Wolfsbane and he’d rather the potion didn’t become a casualty in a grudge match. He said as much, and Sirius sighed gloomily.
“It is better, though, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Remus said, clenching his shoulders against a shiver. Every job application that returned to him now carried a new fear: that he would have to return to the days of chains and cages.
“Better than us, I suppose,” Sirius said, undoing Remus’ cuffs, head bent forward.
“Nothing’s better than you,” Remus said and then bit his tongue. He wasn’t meant to be saying such things.
Sirius looked up, eyes wide and wistful. Fifteen years ago, Remus would have taken that as a cue to drag him down and abandon cleaning in favour of peeling off the apron and everything under it. Sirius wouldn’t understand that now, though, so Remus endured the shiver of fingertips on his pulse and bid his heart to slow again. He could feel his forehead throbbing with every leap in his pulse.
“Hah!” Sirius said and laid his palm across Remus’ forehead. His hand was cold so Remus leant into it warily. Sirius sighed in his ear, murmuring, “The potion doesn’t make this any easier, does it?”
The moon still thrummed in his bones every month. He still transformed painfully three nights a month. The only difference was that now he was sane afterwards.
“No more cleaning,” Sirius said firmly. “Kitchen - nice and cool down there. I’ll make you tea and tell you all about Harry’s army again.”
“You spoil me,” Remus murmured, letting Sirius pull him out of the chair. “And it’s not an army. It’s a study group.”
“What’s the difference?” Sirius asked. “It’s still brilliant.”
“I still can’t believe you got straight Os,” Remus muttered.
“Did I really?”
“Afraid so. Education systems’s been in ruin for years.”
“Who needs an education? Hey, I remember the words to that one.”
Eventually, Remus told himself, wincing, Sirius would build up from little details into remembering significant things.
“Moony?”
“Anything’s better than your Celestina Warbeck.”
Later, sitting in the kitchen and listening and grimacing over his potion as Sirius butchered Pink Floyd in his prison-husky voice, Remus found himself smiling, despite the pull of the moon.
Title: A Twilight Wooing
Rating: PG
Words: 697
Prompt: Harvest moon
Disclaimer: They belong to JKR. I’m just borrowing them.
Notes: Can't take any claim for the apron, thankfully. Let's just say one of the twins gave it to Molly as a Christmas present and she couldn't quite bear to bin it.
Remus could really have done without Sirius’ full-throated Celestina Warbeck impression this morning, particularly as it included the trombone effects.
“Shine on, shine on, harvest mooooony, up in the sky…”
Remus sunk lower into his chair and willed his headache to take over to the point where he could no longer actually hear.
“…ain’t had no lovin’ since Jan-han-hanuary, February, June or July!”
The pink feather duster whistled over his head, slamming a shrieking, battle-crazed doxy against the wall. Its death-squeal made Remus’ teeth ache, spearing down into every throbbing bone in his body. He whimpered softly and tried to gather the energy to move away.
“Boo-do-ba-do, ba-da, boo-boo-da-boo.”
The problem was that wherever he went, Sirius followed him. He wanted the old, lively Sirius back, of course he did. He’d just forgotten that that Sirius had a bad habit of bouncing at him.
When the next doxy hit him on the head, he felt thoroughly justified in shrieking like a girl and incinerating it on the spot. When the smoke cleared, he lowered his wand guiltily to find Sirius peering at him curiously. He was wearing a large plastic apron which read, CAT - the other white meat! and was wielding a feather duster like a Beater’s bat.
“Alright there, Moony?”
“Headache,” Remus said weakly and closed his eyes.
He heard the chair creak as Sirius settled on the arm. Then Sirius asked hesitantly, “When’s the moon?”
“Tomorrow,” Remus said softly. “It’s - it’s not as bad as it used to be, really.”
“I always used to know,” Sirius murmured, his fingers creeping round Remus’ wrist again. “What did I do, Moony? I did something, didn’t I?”
Remus smiled at him. “You used to hex anyone who came near me. It was well meant.”
Sirius grinned and dropped his feather duster. “Do you want me to hex someone now?”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Remus said hurriedly. The only person he was expecting to see today was Severus with his Wolfsbane and he’d rather the potion didn’t become a casualty in a grudge match. He said as much, and Sirius sighed gloomily.
“It is better, though, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Remus said, clenching his shoulders against a shiver. Every job application that returned to him now carried a new fear: that he would have to return to the days of chains and cages.
“Better than us, I suppose,” Sirius said, undoing Remus’ cuffs, head bent forward.
“Nothing’s better than you,” Remus said and then bit his tongue. He wasn’t meant to be saying such things.
Sirius looked up, eyes wide and wistful. Fifteen years ago, Remus would have taken that as a cue to drag him down and abandon cleaning in favour of peeling off the apron and everything under it. Sirius wouldn’t understand that now, though, so Remus endured the shiver of fingertips on his pulse and bid his heart to slow again. He could feel his forehead throbbing with every leap in his pulse.
“Hah!” Sirius said and laid his palm across Remus’ forehead. His hand was cold so Remus leant into it warily. Sirius sighed in his ear, murmuring, “The potion doesn’t make this any easier, does it?”
The moon still thrummed in his bones every month. He still transformed painfully three nights a month. The only difference was that now he was sane afterwards.
“No more cleaning,” Sirius said firmly. “Kitchen - nice and cool down there. I’ll make you tea and tell you all about Harry’s army again.”
“You spoil me,” Remus murmured, letting Sirius pull him out of the chair. “And it’s not an army. It’s a study group.”
“What’s the difference?” Sirius asked. “It’s still brilliant.”
“I still can’t believe you got straight Os,” Remus muttered.
“Did I really?”
“Afraid so. Education systems’s been in ruin for years.”
“Who needs an education? Hey, I remember the words to that one.”
Eventually, Remus told himself, wincing, Sirius would build up from little details into remembering significant things.
“Moony?”
“Anything’s better than your Celestina Warbeck.”
Later, sitting in the kitchen and listening and grimacing over his potion as Sirius butchered Pink Floyd in his prison-husky voice, Remus found himself smiling, despite the pull of the moon.