Fic: Christmas Is For Family for beththoughts
Title: Christmas is for Family
Author: lhazzie
Recipient: beththoughts
Rating: PG-13
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *None*
Word count: 2,852
Summary: On Christmas Eve, Sirius has an uncomfortable lunch date, and then spends some quality time at home with Remus.
Notes: I was originally intending to write for just one of the three prompts, but I've ended up with a bit of two of them, with a healthy dose of the wildcard challenge.
Thanks to youcantseeus for the beta (you have all been saved from my penchant for run on sentences and inappropriate commas).
The restaurant was quiet at lunchtime, despite it being Christmas Eve.
Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, adding to the grey light filtering in through the tall windows. Outside it was raining lightly, a fine drizzle from a sky that hadn’t cleared in days.
Small tables were spread out across the tiled floor. In one corner stood a large fir tree, decorated with floating candles. Behind it, the art deco bannister of an elaborate spiral staircase had been charmed to glitter in the candlelight. The effect was pretty, though formal enough to be in keeping with the rest of the establishment.
At one of the tables near the window sat a man wearing formal robes with a stiff high collar. His long grey hair was swept back over his shoulders. His high cheek bones and strong jaw suggested a man of good breeding, who had been handsome in his youth.
The man paged idly through a copy of the Daily Prophet while he sipped a glass of water. His eyes flicked towards the doorway, and tracked people walking outside on the street more often than he would care to admit.
A waitress, wearing the uniform of the restaurant’s serving staff, a laced edged white apron and a white mob-cap, stopped at the table.
“Are you ready to order, Mr. Black?” she asked quietly, her eyes downcast in deference.
Orion Black produced from the pocket of his robes a gold watch on a fine chain. He looked at the time, glanced once more at the empty doorway to the restaurant, and sighed.
“Earl Grey, and the sandwich selection. Enough for two people.” he replied.
The waitress murmured assent and left.
She returned a short while later, and began to unload items from the silver tray that levitated beside her. Steam curled out from the spout of the tea pot, and she laid out two willow patterned teacups with saucers. Cutlery and plates were set in front of Orion, and at the chair opposite him. Finally she placed on the table a three-tiered stand, which held small sandwiches with the crusts cut off, and on the top layer several small cakes decorated with a Christmas tree shape in icing.
--
Sirius checked his reflection in the window of a shop, set his shoulders back and chin up, and then took the last few steps up to the door of the restaurant. He pushed open the door and paused just inside, letting it swing closed behind him. He spoke quietly to the wizard who greeted him, handing over his thick winter cloak.
As Sirius approached his father’s table, the waitress turned and smiled.
“Sir,” she said, nodding in greeting, while tucking the now-empty serving tray under her arm. He grinned at her in response, and sat at the table, legs sprawled out in front of him, and arms folded defensively over his chest.
“Orion,” he greeted.
“Sirius, please, I know we haven’t seen eye to eye recently, but I am still your father.”
Sirius didn’t respond, but instead helped himself to some of the small sandwiches, piling three on his plate, and stuffing one straight into his mouth.
Orion frowned, but said nothing, as he served himself some of the sandwiches, opting to use the silver tongs provided, and proceeding to use a knife and fork to eat them. Sirius stared at his father for a moment, then rolled his eyes.
“Interesting. You see, I seem to remember something about me being a blood traitor, and not fit to call myself a Black?”
“Your brother tells me that you did well in your exams?” Orion asked, choosing to ignore the antagonistic line of conversation.
“Yes.”
“And he says you haven’t got a job yet?”
“No.”
“It’s been months since you finished school, Sirius. You need to think of the future. It’s a little late to apply to the Ministry now I expect. All the prestigious positions are snapped up as soon as NEWT results are out. I’m sure we could find you something suitable, though. The Administrative Registration Department perhaps? I have a cousin there.” Orion poured tea into cups for both of them, adding a sugar cube to his, and tapping the silver spoon so it stirred the tea by itself, chinking quietly as it knocked the sides of the cup.
“No thanks.” Sirius added milk to his tea, and took a sip. He placed the cup back down directly onto the tabletop, instead of on the saucer. Orion pursed his lips.
“It’s a perfectly respectable department to be in Sirius, and really, once you have a foot in the door then you can go anywhere within the Ministry. If you haven’t arranged an apprenticeship at this stage then you can hardly go into Healing or Potioneering now.” he stopped the self-stirring spoon and placed it carefully onto the linen napkin, tea staining the white surface.
“Why the sudden interest in my career?” Sirius asked, eating more of the sandwiches directly from the platter.
“Despite our differences, you’re still a Black. We have a reputation to maintain, Sirius.” he cut into a second sandwich on his plate. The silence stretched slightly too long, broken only by the sound of eating.
“Does your wife know you’re here?”
Orion sighed again, and set down his knife and fork, “your mother is...unwell. If she hears that you are taking steps towards a proper respectable career, then she may be willing to at least receive a letter from you. It would give you a chance to apologise. I can’t promise she will accept it, but I expect that she will read it.”
Sirius stared incredulously at Orion, his mouth open in indignation.
“Are you seriously sitting there telling me that I need to apologise to a woman who has disowned me? And that although we both know there’s no way she will ever accept an apology from me, you want to me to change my entire life and build a career I’m not interested in having, just so I can attempt to make this apology? Which we both know I will not do anyway, because what she wants me to be sorry for is everything that I am?”
“Sirius, please. She is very ill.”
“I. Don’t. Care. I don’t care.”
With that, Sirius took a cake from the top of the stand, unwrapped the paper casing, shoved the whole thing into his mouth, and walked away. He paused only to collect his cloak from the wizard by the door, and stalked out into the winter afternoon.
Orion closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply through his nose. He refilled his cup, and carried on eating.
--
The flat Sirius had bought with his inheritance was above a shop. It was in predominantly a Muggle area of the city, though there were at least two shops in the area that had wizarding or Squib staff, where a young wizard might find it possible to use a Floo connection for a small fee, or to Apparate behind their bins, no questions asked.
It was from behind one of these shops that Sirius now appeared. He walked quickly along the street with his head bowed. He crossed half way along the street, then hurried to the end, rounded the corner, and arrived at the front door, crowded between a bakery, which was below his flat, and a second hand shop next door. He used a plain Muggle key to open the lock.
Sirius strode up the stairs two at a time, and at the top opened the second door with a tap from his wand. He stepped inside, and leant back on the closed door, tipped his head back against the wood and took a deep breath.
He unfastened the clasp of his cloak, twisted out of it, and threw it over the arm of the sofa in front of him. He thought back to the conversation with his father. Rage filled him, and he crossed the living room of the small flat, kicking out at the coffee table. It tipped over sideways with a dull thud.
It was almost anti-climatic, and instead of easing his anger, only served to annoy him more.
Sirius roared in frustration, grabbing the Christmas tree and knocking it across the room. The crunch of glass as it hit the floor, crushing the baubles underneath, was too much. He sank into the armchair, head in hands, gasping against the tears that threatened.
“So lunch went well then.” Remus Lupin stood in the door way of the bedroom, hair tousled by sleep. He surveyed the mess that had been their living room and sighed, crossing the room to the chair where Sirius now sat. He leaned down, wrapping comforting arms around Sirius, and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Want to tell me what happened, or would you rather continue to take it out on the flat?”
Sirius sniffed, scrubbing a hand across his face.
“Nothing. It was nothing. I just shouldn’t have gone.”
Remus kissed Sirius again and then let go, standing and walking through to the kitchen at the back of the small flat. He stifled a yawn as he filled the kettle and placed it on the hob, lighting the gas underneath with his wand.
He had been sleeping until Sirius had kicked over the table. His long night shifts shelf stacking at a local supermarket meant he slept most of the day. But the shift work was easier to manage around full moons and Order assignments, and the manager didn’t ask too many questions.
He took down a tin, popping off the lid and fishing out two teabags. The clatter of two mugs off the draining board was next, with the rush of water from the tap as he rinsed them out.
Teabags went silently into mugs, and the open-close clunk of the fridge door as he retrieved a bottle of milk; another of the kitchen drawer, this one with the rattle of cutlery and he took out a teaspoon.
Remus braced his arms, leaning against the kitchen worktop and twisted round to look over his shoulder. From here he could see through the kitchen doorway into the living room. The brooding outline that was Sirius raked his hand through his hair then stood up. He moved out of sight briefly as he retrieved the tree, and stood it back up in its stand, cleaning up the spilled water from the bucket with his wand.
The kettle whistled then, and Remus switched off the hob with one hand, moving the kettle with the other to pour water into the waiting mugs. He used the teaspoon to fish out the tea bags, chucking them in the bin under the sink before adding milk.
Just a tiny splash into the mug for him, and a more generous portion for Sirius.
He slid the two handles close together and picked them up in one hand, the mugs clinking as they touched. With the other hand he opened another cupboard and grabbed a half-eaten packet of biscuits, with the top twisted closed to protect them from going stale.
Sirius had finished clearing up and was sitting on the sofa when Remus walked back in. Three broken baubles lay on the coffee table. Sirius was carefully lining up broken pieces, and tracing his wand along the join to repair it.
Remus put the tea down next to the baubles, and took a biscuit from the packet before placing that too on the table. He sat sideways on the sofa, wiggling his bare toes under Sirius’s thigh. He munched on the biscuit, and watched Sirius work.
“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Sirius said, as he worked on the last bauble.
“That’s ok. I’d have been up in a couple of hours anyway.” Remus swallowed the last of the biscuit and reached for his tea.
“I’m still sorry. You only got to sleep at about 10.”
“Hmm yeah,” Remus’s voice dropped low, “you did keep me awake this morning. Twice.”
Sirius chuckled, “Ok, you’re right, that was worth it”.
Another pause. Sirius placed the last repaired bauble onto the table, and helped himself to a biscuit, offering a second one to Remus.
“What happened at lunch?” Remus asked carefully, his voice slightly muffled around a mouthful of digestive.
“Oh you know. Same old. Guilt trip, judgement of my life choices. Telling me that Walburga is ‘unwell’.” Sirius’ mouth twisted in a grimace, “She’s been off her head for as long as I can remember, but he’s using it as an excuse to try and get me to beg them for forgiveness. Quite frankly, the sooner they cart her off to a secure ward the better.”
Sirius sighed and reached for his tea, taking a large swig from the mug before twisting in his seat to face Remus, and reached out a hand to stroke his cheek.
“It would finish her off if I told her about us. If I didn’t think she’d claw you to death with her bare hands for it, then I’d march over to Grimmauld Place right now”.
Remus smiled, and took Sirius’ hand in his own. He brought it up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. He leaned forward and pressed a second kiss to his forehead, and ducked his head, to place a third kiss on Sirius’ mouth. Sirius pulled back slightly so that he could put down his mug, and stood up, pulling Remus with him. He leaned back in for another kiss, sliding his arms around the other man’s waist.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Sirius admitted quietly.
“Well you’d be able to trash your flat in peace, without anyone making you tea and talking you down,” Remus responded.
“Shut up.” Sirius batted back, smiling affectionately and leaning in for another kiss. “Come to bed, Moony?” he asked, pulling him towards the bedroom.
Remus laughed, following eagerly.
“As if you have to ask.”
--
Remus refilled a glass with water from the tap. He paused at the fridge door and looked at the photograph stuck to the front. Four boys, arms round each other, pulling faces and mugging for the camera. The walls of Hogwarts castle in the background, and dappled shade cast by the trees on the edge of the lake beside them.
It had just been a few months since the picture was taken. A hot, sunny day, by a lake in Scotland. They had been messing around as Lily admonished them and told them to behave and stand still for the photo. She’d never quite got used to being able to move while you had your photograph taken.
He wanted to go back. To warm, sunny summer days sitting by the lake. Not this cold grey December, with the constant threat of death and destruction.
He reached up to touch the corner of the photo, and shook his head ruefully.
Remus padded back to the bedroom, and placed the glass onto the bedside table before climbing back into bed. He burrowed under the covers, pressing cold feet against Sirius’ warm ones, wrapped his arms round the other man’s torso and tucked his face into his neck, kissing the skin there.
Sirius groaned and rolled onto his back, pulling Remus against his chest. Remus went willingly, trailing fingers across Sirius’ bare chest and placing kisses along his collarbone.
“My father offered to set me up with a job in the Ministry,” Sirius said quietly. He tangled a hand into Remus’ hair, but avoided eye contact. “Maybe I should have taken up the offer. The Order always needs more insiders in the Ministry.”
Remus hummed thoughtfully.
“Do you think so?” he probed, “It’s getting increasingly difficult to find members who can fit Order duties around a full-time job.”
“I suppose so,” Sirius conceded reluctantly. He groaned again. “Enough. Enough of this. Right. It is,” he glanced at the clock, “five o’clock. Gideon has invited us for Christmas drinks at their house tonight, which gives us about two hours. And I don’t know about you, but I am starving.”
Remus smiled widely.
“Yep. Starving. I haven’t eaten since this morning. Well...not food.” he pressed another kiss to Sirius’ mouth. Sirius cupped his cheek with a hand and deepened the kiss. Remus muffled a laugh against him. “You are insatiable, Padfoot”.
“I love you”, Sirius responded, his gaze serious.
“I love you, too.” Remus said quietly, with one last brief kiss. “Now, I think you said something about food?” He rolled back out of bed, reaching to pull on a t-shirt from the heap of discarded clothes, as he passed underwear to Sirius.
Sirius smiled, and pushed himself up onto his elbows. “I want curry!” he called after Remus’ retreating form, and heard a laugh in response.
This, he thought to himself, was what Christmas was about. Making dinner with Remus, having drinks with their friends. He didn’t need Orion Black, whether or not he still called himself Sirius’ father. He didn’t need his old family; he had a new family now.
Author: lhazzie
Recipient: beththoughts
Rating: PG-13
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *None*
Word count: 2,852
Summary: On Christmas Eve, Sirius has an uncomfortable lunch date, and then spends some quality time at home with Remus.
Notes: I was originally intending to write for just one of the three prompts, but I've ended up with a bit of two of them, with a healthy dose of the wildcard challenge.
Thanks to youcantseeus for the beta (you have all been saved from my penchant for run on sentences and inappropriate commas).
The restaurant was quiet at lunchtime, despite it being Christmas Eve.
Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, adding to the grey light filtering in through the tall windows. Outside it was raining lightly, a fine drizzle from a sky that hadn’t cleared in days.
Small tables were spread out across the tiled floor. In one corner stood a large fir tree, decorated with floating candles. Behind it, the art deco bannister of an elaborate spiral staircase had been charmed to glitter in the candlelight. The effect was pretty, though formal enough to be in keeping with the rest of the establishment.
At one of the tables near the window sat a man wearing formal robes with a stiff high collar. His long grey hair was swept back over his shoulders. His high cheek bones and strong jaw suggested a man of good breeding, who had been handsome in his youth.
The man paged idly through a copy of the Daily Prophet while he sipped a glass of water. His eyes flicked towards the doorway, and tracked people walking outside on the street more often than he would care to admit.
A waitress, wearing the uniform of the restaurant’s serving staff, a laced edged white apron and a white mob-cap, stopped at the table.
“Are you ready to order, Mr. Black?” she asked quietly, her eyes downcast in deference.
Orion Black produced from the pocket of his robes a gold watch on a fine chain. He looked at the time, glanced once more at the empty doorway to the restaurant, and sighed.
“Earl Grey, and the sandwich selection. Enough for two people.” he replied.
The waitress murmured assent and left.
She returned a short while later, and began to unload items from the silver tray that levitated beside her. Steam curled out from the spout of the tea pot, and she laid out two willow patterned teacups with saucers. Cutlery and plates were set in front of Orion, and at the chair opposite him. Finally she placed on the table a three-tiered stand, which held small sandwiches with the crusts cut off, and on the top layer several small cakes decorated with a Christmas tree shape in icing.
--
Sirius checked his reflection in the window of a shop, set his shoulders back and chin up, and then took the last few steps up to the door of the restaurant. He pushed open the door and paused just inside, letting it swing closed behind him. He spoke quietly to the wizard who greeted him, handing over his thick winter cloak.
As Sirius approached his father’s table, the waitress turned and smiled.
“Sir,” she said, nodding in greeting, while tucking the now-empty serving tray under her arm. He grinned at her in response, and sat at the table, legs sprawled out in front of him, and arms folded defensively over his chest.
“Orion,” he greeted.
“Sirius, please, I know we haven’t seen eye to eye recently, but I am still your father.”
Sirius didn’t respond, but instead helped himself to some of the small sandwiches, piling three on his plate, and stuffing one straight into his mouth.
Orion frowned, but said nothing, as he served himself some of the sandwiches, opting to use the silver tongs provided, and proceeding to use a knife and fork to eat them. Sirius stared at his father for a moment, then rolled his eyes.
“Interesting. You see, I seem to remember something about me being a blood traitor, and not fit to call myself a Black?”
“Your brother tells me that you did well in your exams?” Orion asked, choosing to ignore the antagonistic line of conversation.
“Yes.”
“And he says you haven’t got a job yet?”
“No.”
“It’s been months since you finished school, Sirius. You need to think of the future. It’s a little late to apply to the Ministry now I expect. All the prestigious positions are snapped up as soon as NEWT results are out. I’m sure we could find you something suitable, though. The Administrative Registration Department perhaps? I have a cousin there.” Orion poured tea into cups for both of them, adding a sugar cube to his, and tapping the silver spoon so it stirred the tea by itself, chinking quietly as it knocked the sides of the cup.
“No thanks.” Sirius added milk to his tea, and took a sip. He placed the cup back down directly onto the tabletop, instead of on the saucer. Orion pursed his lips.
“It’s a perfectly respectable department to be in Sirius, and really, once you have a foot in the door then you can go anywhere within the Ministry. If you haven’t arranged an apprenticeship at this stage then you can hardly go into Healing or Potioneering now.” he stopped the self-stirring spoon and placed it carefully onto the linen napkin, tea staining the white surface.
“Why the sudden interest in my career?” Sirius asked, eating more of the sandwiches directly from the platter.
“Despite our differences, you’re still a Black. We have a reputation to maintain, Sirius.” he cut into a second sandwich on his plate. The silence stretched slightly too long, broken only by the sound of eating.
“Does your wife know you’re here?”
Orion sighed again, and set down his knife and fork, “your mother is...unwell. If she hears that you are taking steps towards a proper respectable career, then she may be willing to at least receive a letter from you. It would give you a chance to apologise. I can’t promise she will accept it, but I expect that she will read it.”
Sirius stared incredulously at Orion, his mouth open in indignation.
“Are you seriously sitting there telling me that I need to apologise to a woman who has disowned me? And that although we both know there’s no way she will ever accept an apology from me, you want to me to change my entire life and build a career I’m not interested in having, just so I can attempt to make this apology? Which we both know I will not do anyway, because what she wants me to be sorry for is everything that I am?”
“Sirius, please. She is very ill.”
“I. Don’t. Care. I don’t care.”
With that, Sirius took a cake from the top of the stand, unwrapped the paper casing, shoved the whole thing into his mouth, and walked away. He paused only to collect his cloak from the wizard by the door, and stalked out into the winter afternoon.
Orion closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply through his nose. He refilled his cup, and carried on eating.
--
The flat Sirius had bought with his inheritance was above a shop. It was in predominantly a Muggle area of the city, though there were at least two shops in the area that had wizarding or Squib staff, where a young wizard might find it possible to use a Floo connection for a small fee, or to Apparate behind their bins, no questions asked.
It was from behind one of these shops that Sirius now appeared. He walked quickly along the street with his head bowed. He crossed half way along the street, then hurried to the end, rounded the corner, and arrived at the front door, crowded between a bakery, which was below his flat, and a second hand shop next door. He used a plain Muggle key to open the lock.
Sirius strode up the stairs two at a time, and at the top opened the second door with a tap from his wand. He stepped inside, and leant back on the closed door, tipped his head back against the wood and took a deep breath.
He unfastened the clasp of his cloak, twisted out of it, and threw it over the arm of the sofa in front of him. He thought back to the conversation with his father. Rage filled him, and he crossed the living room of the small flat, kicking out at the coffee table. It tipped over sideways with a dull thud.
It was almost anti-climatic, and instead of easing his anger, only served to annoy him more.
Sirius roared in frustration, grabbing the Christmas tree and knocking it across the room. The crunch of glass as it hit the floor, crushing the baubles underneath, was too much. He sank into the armchair, head in hands, gasping against the tears that threatened.
“So lunch went well then.” Remus Lupin stood in the door way of the bedroom, hair tousled by sleep. He surveyed the mess that had been their living room and sighed, crossing the room to the chair where Sirius now sat. He leaned down, wrapping comforting arms around Sirius, and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Want to tell me what happened, or would you rather continue to take it out on the flat?”
Sirius sniffed, scrubbing a hand across his face.
“Nothing. It was nothing. I just shouldn’t have gone.”
Remus kissed Sirius again and then let go, standing and walking through to the kitchen at the back of the small flat. He stifled a yawn as he filled the kettle and placed it on the hob, lighting the gas underneath with his wand.
He had been sleeping until Sirius had kicked over the table. His long night shifts shelf stacking at a local supermarket meant he slept most of the day. But the shift work was easier to manage around full moons and Order assignments, and the manager didn’t ask too many questions.
He took down a tin, popping off the lid and fishing out two teabags. The clatter of two mugs off the draining board was next, with the rush of water from the tap as he rinsed them out.
Teabags went silently into mugs, and the open-close clunk of the fridge door as he retrieved a bottle of milk; another of the kitchen drawer, this one with the rattle of cutlery and he took out a teaspoon.
Remus braced his arms, leaning against the kitchen worktop and twisted round to look over his shoulder. From here he could see through the kitchen doorway into the living room. The brooding outline that was Sirius raked his hand through his hair then stood up. He moved out of sight briefly as he retrieved the tree, and stood it back up in its stand, cleaning up the spilled water from the bucket with his wand.
The kettle whistled then, and Remus switched off the hob with one hand, moving the kettle with the other to pour water into the waiting mugs. He used the teaspoon to fish out the tea bags, chucking them in the bin under the sink before adding milk.
Just a tiny splash into the mug for him, and a more generous portion for Sirius.
He slid the two handles close together and picked them up in one hand, the mugs clinking as they touched. With the other hand he opened another cupboard and grabbed a half-eaten packet of biscuits, with the top twisted closed to protect them from going stale.
Sirius had finished clearing up and was sitting on the sofa when Remus walked back in. Three broken baubles lay on the coffee table. Sirius was carefully lining up broken pieces, and tracing his wand along the join to repair it.
Remus put the tea down next to the baubles, and took a biscuit from the packet before placing that too on the table. He sat sideways on the sofa, wiggling his bare toes under Sirius’s thigh. He munched on the biscuit, and watched Sirius work.
“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Sirius said, as he worked on the last bauble.
“That’s ok. I’d have been up in a couple of hours anyway.” Remus swallowed the last of the biscuit and reached for his tea.
“I’m still sorry. You only got to sleep at about 10.”
“Hmm yeah,” Remus’s voice dropped low, “you did keep me awake this morning. Twice.”
Sirius chuckled, “Ok, you’re right, that was worth it”.
Another pause. Sirius placed the last repaired bauble onto the table, and helped himself to a biscuit, offering a second one to Remus.
“What happened at lunch?” Remus asked carefully, his voice slightly muffled around a mouthful of digestive.
“Oh you know. Same old. Guilt trip, judgement of my life choices. Telling me that Walburga is ‘unwell’.” Sirius’ mouth twisted in a grimace, “She’s been off her head for as long as I can remember, but he’s using it as an excuse to try and get me to beg them for forgiveness. Quite frankly, the sooner they cart her off to a secure ward the better.”
Sirius sighed and reached for his tea, taking a large swig from the mug before twisting in his seat to face Remus, and reached out a hand to stroke his cheek.
“It would finish her off if I told her about us. If I didn’t think she’d claw you to death with her bare hands for it, then I’d march over to Grimmauld Place right now”.
Remus smiled, and took Sirius’ hand in his own. He brought it up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. He leaned forward and pressed a second kiss to his forehead, and ducked his head, to place a third kiss on Sirius’ mouth. Sirius pulled back slightly so that he could put down his mug, and stood up, pulling Remus with him. He leaned back in for another kiss, sliding his arms around the other man’s waist.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Sirius admitted quietly.
“Well you’d be able to trash your flat in peace, without anyone making you tea and talking you down,” Remus responded.
“Shut up.” Sirius batted back, smiling affectionately and leaning in for another kiss. “Come to bed, Moony?” he asked, pulling him towards the bedroom.
Remus laughed, following eagerly.
“As if you have to ask.”
--
Remus refilled a glass with water from the tap. He paused at the fridge door and looked at the photograph stuck to the front. Four boys, arms round each other, pulling faces and mugging for the camera. The walls of Hogwarts castle in the background, and dappled shade cast by the trees on the edge of the lake beside them.
It had just been a few months since the picture was taken. A hot, sunny day, by a lake in Scotland. They had been messing around as Lily admonished them and told them to behave and stand still for the photo. She’d never quite got used to being able to move while you had your photograph taken.
He wanted to go back. To warm, sunny summer days sitting by the lake. Not this cold grey December, with the constant threat of death and destruction.
He reached up to touch the corner of the photo, and shook his head ruefully.
Remus padded back to the bedroom, and placed the glass onto the bedside table before climbing back into bed. He burrowed under the covers, pressing cold feet against Sirius’ warm ones, wrapped his arms round the other man’s torso and tucked his face into his neck, kissing the skin there.
Sirius groaned and rolled onto his back, pulling Remus against his chest. Remus went willingly, trailing fingers across Sirius’ bare chest and placing kisses along his collarbone.
“My father offered to set me up with a job in the Ministry,” Sirius said quietly. He tangled a hand into Remus’ hair, but avoided eye contact. “Maybe I should have taken up the offer. The Order always needs more insiders in the Ministry.”
Remus hummed thoughtfully.
“Do you think so?” he probed, “It’s getting increasingly difficult to find members who can fit Order duties around a full-time job.”
“I suppose so,” Sirius conceded reluctantly. He groaned again. “Enough. Enough of this. Right. It is,” he glanced at the clock, “five o’clock. Gideon has invited us for Christmas drinks at their house tonight, which gives us about two hours. And I don’t know about you, but I am starving.”
Remus smiled widely.
“Yep. Starving. I haven’t eaten since this morning. Well...not food.” he pressed another kiss to Sirius’ mouth. Sirius cupped his cheek with a hand and deepened the kiss. Remus muffled a laugh against him. “You are insatiable, Padfoot”.
“I love you”, Sirius responded, his gaze serious.
“I love you, too.” Remus said quietly, with one last brief kiss. “Now, I think you said something about food?” He rolled back out of bed, reaching to pull on a t-shirt from the heap of discarded clothes, as he passed underwear to Sirius.
Sirius smiled, and pushed himself up onto his elbows. “I want curry!” he called after Remus’ retreating form, and heard a laugh in response.
This, he thought to himself, was what Christmas was about. Making dinner with Remus, having drinks with their friends. He didn’t need Orion Black, whether or not he still called himself Sirius’ father. He didn’t need his old family; he had a new family now.