FIC: Ghosts of Christmas Past for quartetship
Title: The Ghosts of Christmas Past
Author: thescarletwoman
Written for: quartetship
Rating: Soft R
Prompt: The boys' first Christmas together.
Summary: Unwrapping the baubles, Sirius has a sudden insight into Remus's past.
Any other notes, warnings, etc.: Just a cute little bit of Christmas fluff. Thanks as always to Rose, my most brilliant beta who has, over the years, made me into the writer I am today. And to a certain someone with whom I have re-discovered the joys of the R/S ship. ♥ to you both. Also love to the oh-so patient mods. Happy Christmas quartetship and enjoyo! and yes, it's over 3,000 words. Short and me don't go together any more.
"Watch out, that box is--"
CRASH.
"... not taped on the bottom."
Wincing, Sirius set the box down on the floor and gingerly opened the interlocking cardboard flaps. Remus stood a few feet away, arms crossed in front of his chest and his face screwed in a strange mixture of exasperation and amusement. If you asked Sirius, he'd say Remus looked constipated.
"Nothing a quick Reparo couldn't fix," Sirius said, carefully picking his way through the box. He cursed, moving a stuffed snowman, and caught his finger on a sharp piece of broken knickknack.
"A bull in a china shop," Remus muttered under his breath.
Sirius glanced up with a quizzical expression, not understanding the phrase or the sentiment behind it. He had learned, though, over the years that it was useless to ask Remus to explain himself. Nine times out of ten the explanation was even more confusing and Sirius (even with his slow learning curve) had learned at long last to keep his mouth shut and go on in ignorance.
"All of this stuff was your mum's?" Sirius asked, abandoning the box of broken things and going to the small one on the couch. He checked the bottom first before he moved it, setting it on his lap and began the arduous task of wading through tissue paper.
"Yeah. Grew up with these. Never had much, but the one thing Mum always wanted to do was make sure our home was decorated properly."
Sirius pulled out a small glass angel, turning the figurine over in his hands several times. It looked old and it was chipped in several places yet it had been the one wrapped in the most tissue. Sirius was struck with a certain something when he held it in his hands -- thinking of the years of lavish decorations his own mother had hung at Grimmauld. It had all been for show, of course, trappings and trimmings for any of the countless number of balls and parties his mother had thrown those two weeks surrounding Christmas and New Year's. The decorations were never the same two years in a row for a repeated decoration meant there was no money to buy new.
His mother was all about the show.
"That was my grandmother's," Remus said, coming to stand beside Sirius. He carefully took the angel, cradling it in his hands as if it were worth a million galleons. Then again, Sirius reasoned, in sentimentality, the small figure had to be worth ten times that much. "One of my earliest memories was seeing this sitting on the table beside her chair." Remus pointed to one of the cracks in the wing. "I knocked it over when I was five. She never yelled. Just got the glue and put her back together."
"She was Muggle, then?" Sirius asked, crouching down to look through the rest of the box. He found more of the same, figurines of all shapes and sizes, some broken and some in pristine condition.
"Yes," Remus replied, crossing the room and setting the angel in a place of prominence on the book case. "I never knew much of my Wizarding side. After I was bitten... Mum never wanted me associating much with Dad's people." He turned towards Sirius once more, shrugging his shoulders. "I suppose it was okay. I know it bothered dad but he never said anything. But I was with people who didn't know who or what I was and weren't always looking for signs I was different. I got kisses when they saw a new scar or bruise, not looks of reproach."
Sirius's hands clenched into fists as he listened to Remus describe his childhood. It made him want to nick into the Ministry and steal a time-turner, if only to go back and tell Remus's family what fools they were. Rather than take his anger out on the wall, Sirius returned to the box, unwrapping each figure to hand to Remus. Each one had a story, they had to. Every crack meant something and even the ones that were perfect spoke volumes.
"Do you want to go to Grimmauld to retrieve any of your stuff?" Remus asked a short while later after everything had been emptied and all that remained were open boxes, mouths spilling out piles upon piles of tissue paper.
"No," came Sirius's clipped response.
"No?" Remus asked, arching an eyebrow.
"No," Sirius repeated, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I'm away from that old bat and she's dead, thank Merlin. I don't need any reminders of her around here." Sirius barely suppressed a shudder.
"There must be something you'd want?" Remus asked softly, a hint of desperation in his voice.
Sirius shook his head, fighting the urge to wrap Remus in his arms. For as bright as he was, there were some things Remus simply didn't understand. Because his life had been so family-oriented (perhaps moreso given Remus's "condition"), Remus automatically assumed everyone else was the same way -- even if it was hidden deep beneath the surface. Sirius couldn't bear to break him of that delusion. The truth was: he hated his home and Remus knew that. He'd left for James's when he was fifteen and had never looked back. There wasn't a single thing in Grimmauld that Sirius ever wanted to see again.
Well... except...
"One year, I had to have been about six, but mother found this pair of black puppy figures. She said they reminded her of Regulus and I -- always getting into trouble and curious as all get out," Sirius said, the words escaping his lips before he could silence them once more. "Uncle Alphard once told me they had belonged to him and had been passed down through the Black heirs for generations." Sirius shook his head and released Remus (all right, maybe he had given into that urge as well), moving back to the knickknacks.
"I want to know every story from these." Reaching in, as if it were a contest of sorts, Sirius pulled out an elf, standing in front of a very happy looking Father Christmas. The pervert in him bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
Hearing the muffled sounds from Sirius's corner of the room, Remus glanced up and winced. "No, that one you're not getting."
"I know!" Sirius supplied. "The first Christmas our Moony here decided he'd rather sleep with blokes."
Funny how Sirius didn't expect to get smacked upside the head with the nearest throw pillow.
"What? Father Christmas looks a bit... giddy."
"You're incorrigible."
"You love me."
Remus finally smiled. "I do. Though it's at times like this I question my sanity in the matter."
"Don't question, Moony. Don't question."
Sirius reached into the sea of tissue once more, making a show out of each figure he pulled out. Some Remus explained, tears of mirth in the corners of his eyes. Some ornaments brought about happy stories, others reminded him of the death of a loved one, but through each tale, Sirius learned more about his lover -- things that had never come up in conversation before. He learned why Remus tended to cling to him at times when things seemed the roughest, why (though he loved Harry) Remus tended to stay away from small children.
If it were possible, Sirius managed to fall even more in love with the man who stood before him. It saddened him at the same time, though, that he didn't have these same stories to share. Well, that elf head was from the first House Elf mum owned, decapitated upon his death when I was five. Oh and this item was something she found, cursed and liked to leave out at parties to see who would touch it.
Right. Not exactly the best area of conversation by a long shot. Sirius yearned to have stories like this to share with Remus. He reached into the box a final time, fingers closing around the last figurine. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he turned the small brown dog over in his hand, fingernail tracing the contours of the ceramic fur. He knew these markings.
"Put it away," Remus said sharply, a foreign hint of steel in his voice. "Please. Smash it. Put it back, I don't care what you do but don't put it out."
"No."
There was a funny thing about Sirius Orion Black. The moment he was told to do something, he tended to push back and refuse. This was one of those cases. He knew why the figure pushed at each one of Remus's buttons but he wanted to hear from his own lips.
"I said, put it away."
"And I said, no."
Remus glowered across the room at Sirius. He reached for his wand, but Sirius was faster. "Oh no. You're the one who wanted to find something of my painful past to put on the walls. Turnabout is fair play."
"But it's him." Remus lowered his wand, shoulders slumping with defeat. "I don't need any more of a reminder of what I am."
"Who."
"Pardon?"
"Who you are. The wolf doesn't make you a 'what', Remus," Sirius chided.
"I don't care. I don't want it around."
Again, Sirius seemed to have cotton in his ears as he ignored the command from Remus. Once more, Remus made a move towards the ornament but for a second time, Sirius blocked any forward movement. He intercepted Remus a few steps in, his large hands cupping Remus's face.
"It's part of who you are," Sirius spoke, his thumbs gently running along the Remus's cheekbones. "And, to be perfectly honest, I wouldn't have you any other way."
If it were possible, Remus seemed to slump even further, his body wanting to curl in on itself. Yet, with Sirius's hands positioned the way they were, he kept the other man from completely crumpling. Sirius didn't remove his hands, didn't stop the rhythmic motion of his fingertips, nor did he keep himself from brushing his lips across Remus's either.
"That's what Mum said. They bought it for me right after..." Remus closed his eyes, shaking his head as if to dispel the memory. "To show me they didn't hate what I was."
"And I don't either," Sirius added, tilting Remus's face up one final time. He shrugged ever so slightly, drawing Remus in closer to his body. "How can you hate any part of what you love?"
Alright, so it was ridiculously... some word meaning overly-romantic. Occasionally, Sirius knew, Remus needed to hear these things and judging by the smile twinging at the corners of his mouth it had been the right time to lay on the charm. Remus seemed to accept the statement and unwound himself from Sirius's grasp, though he didn't place the figurine out either.
"Funny," Remus began, gently wrapping the wolf in tissue and placing it back in one of the boxes, "how much meaning there can be in a silly little item."
"C'mere," Sirius said, ignoring the comment before Remus fell even further into a maudlin state, "I have a surprise but it's out on the balcony."
Sirius moved away before Remus could reach him, practically bounding like a puppy towards the over-sized balcony. The things one could afford when one had money. He stepped out onto the overhang, shivering slightly against the cold. Remus followed a moment later, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
"What did you have to show me that was so blooooofff--"
Remus's question was cut off by a mouthful of snow. A second ball followed the first, coming too quickly for Remus to duck out of the way.
"Are you out of your fucking mind!?" Remus howled, shaking his head to get rid of the snow. Flakes clung to the strands like miniature diamonds, sparkling in the mid-afternoon sun. "I don't even have a damned coat on. Furthermore--"
"Remus?" Sirius interrupted.
"What?"
"Would you stop sputtering for two minutes and look up?" Sirius asked, exasperation in his voice.
Remus, however, looked like he wanted to do everything but look up and from the expression on his face, it appeared that throttling was first on the list. Even as he finally lifted his eyes skyward, chunks of snow melting and sliding from his tawny locks, his features didn't soften when he spied the mistletoe.
"You know," Remus said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, brushing off more powder as he went, "most people put that inside rather than out."
"And I'm not most people."
"You can say that again," Remus muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for Sirius to hear.
"Besides," Sirius continued, ignoring the running commentary from the peanut gallery, "outside I have the added bonus of having to keep you warm at the same time."
At long last, Remus's cold exterior melted away, leaving that blush Sirius so loved to see on Remus's cheeks. It wasn't clear if it was the cold or the way he had spoken that caused the blush but at this point, Sirius didn't care. Not when Remus looked do arousing with snow in his hair and flushed skin.
"How do you do that?" Remus asked, unwrapping his arms from around his own body and lifting them to snake around Sirius's neck.
Gathering Remus close, Sirius licked away the last bit of snow that clung obstinately to his brow. He peppered kisses from Remus's temple and downwards, along the curve of his jaw. "Do what?" Sirius queried at long last, his fingers working their way under the hem of Remus's jumper.
"This," Remus replied, unable to conceal the soft moan the instant Sirius's cool fingers brushed his skin. "Be an utter bastard one moment and turn into a bloody irresistible romantic the next."
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Sirius asked, stealing the last chaste kiss of the evening. "I'm Sirius Black."
Sirius didn't give Remus a chance to respond, his lips sealing over Remus's. One teasing press of his tongue had Remus's mouth opening for him as his lover arched even closer. They rocked together, bodies melding perfectly as if they were made for each other -- two halves of a whole moving in perfect unison.
Snow began to fall lightly around them, completing the picturesque landscape and adding age to Sirius's midnight hair as it clung to every available surface. Neither one seemed to care about the snow or the cold or, really, anything outside of the way they fit together and the way Sirius's tongue teased and explored Remus's mouth. He'd just drunk hot chocolate, Sirius could taste, with a hint of mint. He took in his fill, the unique flavour or Remus and chocolate blended in one delectable taste. For a man who had once complained of the cold and being wet, there were no more protests coming from Remus, instead there were hands everywhere, urging Sirius on.
Hell, if it wasn't as cold as it was, Sirius would have been tempted to push Remus against the railing and have his wicked way with him right now.
It was getting harder and harder to control the urge, particularly when Remus's arousal began to press against his own. The desire for sex and to lose himself inside Remus was overpowering. They'd been together now almost a year and Sirius had yet to lose this feeling -- the sensation of being unable to wait to have Remus bare for his eyes to look their fill. His mind's eye conjured the vision of Remus splayed out on the living room rug, firelight dancing across his sweat-slicked skin. Sirius groaned into the kiss, wishing he could project the mental images to Remus. What he would do to Remus -- how he would worship every inch of his body beneath the glow of the Christmas tree. The way Remus would whimper as Sirius lifted his legs over his shoulders, pressing into him all the way to the hilt.
Sirius had no sooner begun to indulge in the fantasy when Remus ended the kiss, his fingers lacing through Sirius's. No, this wasn't right. The kiss should still be going on, but it was air that Sirius's lips moved against, not Remus's own.
Definitely not right.
Remus's fingers rubbed the back of Sirius's, his thumb sliding over the mountains created by his knuckles and gently led him back inside. He paused at the doorway before closing the sliding door behind them both. Sirius didn't miss the way his eyes flicked over towards the small box with the carefully wrapped wolf figurine. Remus said nothing and Sirius didn't push the issue. There were some demons that lived within the guise of harmless ceramic statues but Sirius also knew that together, they'd conquer any foe that stood in their path.
"I hope you bought more hot chocolate," Remus said, releasing Sirius's hand and heading towards the kitchen.
Remus lifted the hem of his soggy jumper, pulling it over his head and banishing it to the bedroom. Thankfully, Remus's back was to Sirius and he missed the way Sirius's eyes roamed over the exposed skin. Remus may have despised the scars, but Sirius thought they were brilliant. More things he could run his tongue over and taste. Remus chose that moment to turn around, affording Sirius yet another perfect view.
"More?!" Sirius sputtered. "I just bought a can of Drinking Chocolate two days ago."
"Yes. Your point?"
"My point, my chocoholic wolf," Sirius teased, removing his own shirt and smirking as Remus's step faltered momentarily, "is that I have a better idea of how to warm you up."
"Do you now? There's something better than chocolate?"
Sirius flicked his wand towards the fireplace, flames leaping to life behind the grate. Sirius laid down on the rug, rolling onto his side and giving Remus his best 'come hither' look. Remus visibly swallowed and Sirius damn near grinned seeing the darkening around the edges of Remus's irises.
"Yes, love. Something much better."
~*~
"Open this one first."
Picking up the package Remus indicated with his foot, Sirius settled, cross-legged, on the floor beside Remus's leg. "Leave it to you to have every single gift and its order planned out to meticulous detail."
"I'm nothing if not predictable," Remus said, hiding a smile behind his hand.
There was no attempt made to save the wrapping paper. Sirius tore into the gift box and after diving through more tissue paper (that's what he should have done with his life: made tissue paper. He would have been set for the rest of his years with only one factory) he pulled out a figurine of a black and brown dog, intertwined together. Sirius placed it in the palm of his hand, glancing up and behind him.
"Look closely."
Brow furrowed, Sirius turned back to look at the figure and realised it was the one from a week ago. The one Remus had tried to destroy if not for a piece of conveniently conjured mistletoe. But the dog? Where had the dog come from? Sirius understood the representation of the two figures, but the meaning was lost on him.
"I don't get it," Sirius confessed, tugging on the leg of Remus's pyjama bottom. "How did you manage...?"
"Regulus helped."
With one smooth motion, Remus slid off the couch to sit beside Sirius. "I took what you said to heart." He plucked the figure from Sirius's hand, tilting his body towards Sirius's. The kiss may have been over in the space of a few heartbeats but Sirius could feel the presence of Remus's lips still lingering on his own.
"It's time to create our own memories."
Author: thescarletwoman
Written for: quartetship
Rating: Soft R
Prompt: The boys' first Christmas together.
Summary: Unwrapping the baubles, Sirius has a sudden insight into Remus's past.
Any other notes, warnings, etc.: Just a cute little bit of Christmas fluff. Thanks as always to Rose, my most brilliant beta who has, over the years, made me into the writer I am today. And to a certain someone with whom I have re-discovered the joys of the R/S ship. ♥ to you both. Also love to the oh-so patient mods. Happy Christmas quartetship and enjoyo! and yes, it's over 3,000 words. Short and me don't go together any more.
"Watch out, that box is--"
CRASH.
"... not taped on the bottom."
Wincing, Sirius set the box down on the floor and gingerly opened the interlocking cardboard flaps. Remus stood a few feet away, arms crossed in front of his chest and his face screwed in a strange mixture of exasperation and amusement. If you asked Sirius, he'd say Remus looked constipated.
"Nothing a quick Reparo couldn't fix," Sirius said, carefully picking his way through the box. He cursed, moving a stuffed snowman, and caught his finger on a sharp piece of broken knickknack.
"A bull in a china shop," Remus muttered under his breath.
Sirius glanced up with a quizzical expression, not understanding the phrase or the sentiment behind it. He had learned, though, over the years that it was useless to ask Remus to explain himself. Nine times out of ten the explanation was even more confusing and Sirius (even with his slow learning curve) had learned at long last to keep his mouth shut and go on in ignorance.
"All of this stuff was your mum's?" Sirius asked, abandoning the box of broken things and going to the small one on the couch. He checked the bottom first before he moved it, setting it on his lap and began the arduous task of wading through tissue paper.
"Yeah. Grew up with these. Never had much, but the one thing Mum always wanted to do was make sure our home was decorated properly."
Sirius pulled out a small glass angel, turning the figurine over in his hands several times. It looked old and it was chipped in several places yet it had been the one wrapped in the most tissue. Sirius was struck with a certain something when he held it in his hands -- thinking of the years of lavish decorations his own mother had hung at Grimmauld. It had all been for show, of course, trappings and trimmings for any of the countless number of balls and parties his mother had thrown those two weeks surrounding Christmas and New Year's. The decorations were never the same two years in a row for a repeated decoration meant there was no money to buy new.
His mother was all about the show.
"That was my grandmother's," Remus said, coming to stand beside Sirius. He carefully took the angel, cradling it in his hands as if it were worth a million galleons. Then again, Sirius reasoned, in sentimentality, the small figure had to be worth ten times that much. "One of my earliest memories was seeing this sitting on the table beside her chair." Remus pointed to one of the cracks in the wing. "I knocked it over when I was five. She never yelled. Just got the glue and put her back together."
"She was Muggle, then?" Sirius asked, crouching down to look through the rest of the box. He found more of the same, figurines of all shapes and sizes, some broken and some in pristine condition.
"Yes," Remus replied, crossing the room and setting the angel in a place of prominence on the book case. "I never knew much of my Wizarding side. After I was bitten... Mum never wanted me associating much with Dad's people." He turned towards Sirius once more, shrugging his shoulders. "I suppose it was okay. I know it bothered dad but he never said anything. But I was with people who didn't know who or what I was and weren't always looking for signs I was different. I got kisses when they saw a new scar or bruise, not looks of reproach."
Sirius's hands clenched into fists as he listened to Remus describe his childhood. It made him want to nick into the Ministry and steal a time-turner, if only to go back and tell Remus's family what fools they were. Rather than take his anger out on the wall, Sirius returned to the box, unwrapping each figure to hand to Remus. Each one had a story, they had to. Every crack meant something and even the ones that were perfect spoke volumes.
"Do you want to go to Grimmauld to retrieve any of your stuff?" Remus asked a short while later after everything had been emptied and all that remained were open boxes, mouths spilling out piles upon piles of tissue paper.
"No," came Sirius's clipped response.
"No?" Remus asked, arching an eyebrow.
"No," Sirius repeated, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I'm away from that old bat and she's dead, thank Merlin. I don't need any reminders of her around here." Sirius barely suppressed a shudder.
"There must be something you'd want?" Remus asked softly, a hint of desperation in his voice.
Sirius shook his head, fighting the urge to wrap Remus in his arms. For as bright as he was, there were some things Remus simply didn't understand. Because his life had been so family-oriented (perhaps moreso given Remus's "condition"), Remus automatically assumed everyone else was the same way -- even if it was hidden deep beneath the surface. Sirius couldn't bear to break him of that delusion. The truth was: he hated his home and Remus knew that. He'd left for James's when he was fifteen and had never looked back. There wasn't a single thing in Grimmauld that Sirius ever wanted to see again.
Well... except...
"One year, I had to have been about six, but mother found this pair of black puppy figures. She said they reminded her of Regulus and I -- always getting into trouble and curious as all get out," Sirius said, the words escaping his lips before he could silence them once more. "Uncle Alphard once told me they had belonged to him and had been passed down through the Black heirs for generations." Sirius shook his head and released Remus (all right, maybe he had given into that urge as well), moving back to the knickknacks.
"I want to know every story from these." Reaching in, as if it were a contest of sorts, Sirius pulled out an elf, standing in front of a very happy looking Father Christmas. The pervert in him bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
Hearing the muffled sounds from Sirius's corner of the room, Remus glanced up and winced. "No, that one you're not getting."
"I know!" Sirius supplied. "The first Christmas our Moony here decided he'd rather sleep with blokes."
Funny how Sirius didn't expect to get smacked upside the head with the nearest throw pillow.
"What? Father Christmas looks a bit... giddy."
"You're incorrigible."
"You love me."
Remus finally smiled. "I do. Though it's at times like this I question my sanity in the matter."
"Don't question, Moony. Don't question."
Sirius reached into the sea of tissue once more, making a show out of each figure he pulled out. Some Remus explained, tears of mirth in the corners of his eyes. Some ornaments brought about happy stories, others reminded him of the death of a loved one, but through each tale, Sirius learned more about his lover -- things that had never come up in conversation before. He learned why Remus tended to cling to him at times when things seemed the roughest, why (though he loved Harry) Remus tended to stay away from small children.
If it were possible, Sirius managed to fall even more in love with the man who stood before him. It saddened him at the same time, though, that he didn't have these same stories to share. Well, that elf head was from the first House Elf mum owned, decapitated upon his death when I was five. Oh and this item was something she found, cursed and liked to leave out at parties to see who would touch it.
Right. Not exactly the best area of conversation by a long shot. Sirius yearned to have stories like this to share with Remus. He reached into the box a final time, fingers closing around the last figurine. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he turned the small brown dog over in his hand, fingernail tracing the contours of the ceramic fur. He knew these markings.
"Put it away," Remus said sharply, a foreign hint of steel in his voice. "Please. Smash it. Put it back, I don't care what you do but don't put it out."
"No."
There was a funny thing about Sirius Orion Black. The moment he was told to do something, he tended to push back and refuse. This was one of those cases. He knew why the figure pushed at each one of Remus's buttons but he wanted to hear from his own lips.
"I said, put it away."
"And I said, no."
Remus glowered across the room at Sirius. He reached for his wand, but Sirius was faster. "Oh no. You're the one who wanted to find something of my painful past to put on the walls. Turnabout is fair play."
"But it's him." Remus lowered his wand, shoulders slumping with defeat. "I don't need any more of a reminder of what I am."
"Who."
"Pardon?"
"Who you are. The wolf doesn't make you a 'what', Remus," Sirius chided.
"I don't care. I don't want it around."
Again, Sirius seemed to have cotton in his ears as he ignored the command from Remus. Once more, Remus made a move towards the ornament but for a second time, Sirius blocked any forward movement. He intercepted Remus a few steps in, his large hands cupping Remus's face.
"It's part of who you are," Sirius spoke, his thumbs gently running along the Remus's cheekbones. "And, to be perfectly honest, I wouldn't have you any other way."
If it were possible, Remus seemed to slump even further, his body wanting to curl in on itself. Yet, with Sirius's hands positioned the way they were, he kept the other man from completely crumpling. Sirius didn't remove his hands, didn't stop the rhythmic motion of his fingertips, nor did he keep himself from brushing his lips across Remus's either.
"That's what Mum said. They bought it for me right after..." Remus closed his eyes, shaking his head as if to dispel the memory. "To show me they didn't hate what I was."
"And I don't either," Sirius added, tilting Remus's face up one final time. He shrugged ever so slightly, drawing Remus in closer to his body. "How can you hate any part of what you love?"
Alright, so it was ridiculously... some word meaning overly-romantic. Occasionally, Sirius knew, Remus needed to hear these things and judging by the smile twinging at the corners of his mouth it had been the right time to lay on the charm. Remus seemed to accept the statement and unwound himself from Sirius's grasp, though he didn't place the figurine out either.
"Funny," Remus began, gently wrapping the wolf in tissue and placing it back in one of the boxes, "how much meaning there can be in a silly little item."
"C'mere," Sirius said, ignoring the comment before Remus fell even further into a maudlin state, "I have a surprise but it's out on the balcony."
Sirius moved away before Remus could reach him, practically bounding like a puppy towards the over-sized balcony. The things one could afford when one had money. He stepped out onto the overhang, shivering slightly against the cold. Remus followed a moment later, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
"What did you have to show me that was so blooooofff--"
Remus's question was cut off by a mouthful of snow. A second ball followed the first, coming too quickly for Remus to duck out of the way.
"Are you out of your fucking mind!?" Remus howled, shaking his head to get rid of the snow. Flakes clung to the strands like miniature diamonds, sparkling in the mid-afternoon sun. "I don't even have a damned coat on. Furthermore--"
"Remus?" Sirius interrupted.
"What?"
"Would you stop sputtering for two minutes and look up?" Sirius asked, exasperation in his voice.
Remus, however, looked like he wanted to do everything but look up and from the expression on his face, it appeared that throttling was first on the list. Even as he finally lifted his eyes skyward, chunks of snow melting and sliding from his tawny locks, his features didn't soften when he spied the mistletoe.
"You know," Remus said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, brushing off more powder as he went, "most people put that inside rather than out."
"And I'm not most people."
"You can say that again," Remus muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for Sirius to hear.
"Besides," Sirius continued, ignoring the running commentary from the peanut gallery, "outside I have the added bonus of having to keep you warm at the same time."
At long last, Remus's cold exterior melted away, leaving that blush Sirius so loved to see on Remus's cheeks. It wasn't clear if it was the cold or the way he had spoken that caused the blush but at this point, Sirius didn't care. Not when Remus looked do arousing with snow in his hair and flushed skin.
"How do you do that?" Remus asked, unwrapping his arms from around his own body and lifting them to snake around Sirius's neck.
Gathering Remus close, Sirius licked away the last bit of snow that clung obstinately to his brow. He peppered kisses from Remus's temple and downwards, along the curve of his jaw. "Do what?" Sirius queried at long last, his fingers working their way under the hem of Remus's jumper.
"This," Remus replied, unable to conceal the soft moan the instant Sirius's cool fingers brushed his skin. "Be an utter bastard one moment and turn into a bloody irresistible romantic the next."
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Sirius asked, stealing the last chaste kiss of the evening. "I'm Sirius Black."
Sirius didn't give Remus a chance to respond, his lips sealing over Remus's. One teasing press of his tongue had Remus's mouth opening for him as his lover arched even closer. They rocked together, bodies melding perfectly as if they were made for each other -- two halves of a whole moving in perfect unison.
Snow began to fall lightly around them, completing the picturesque landscape and adding age to Sirius's midnight hair as it clung to every available surface. Neither one seemed to care about the snow or the cold or, really, anything outside of the way they fit together and the way Sirius's tongue teased and explored Remus's mouth. He'd just drunk hot chocolate, Sirius could taste, with a hint of mint. He took in his fill, the unique flavour or Remus and chocolate blended in one delectable taste. For a man who had once complained of the cold and being wet, there were no more protests coming from Remus, instead there were hands everywhere, urging Sirius on.
Hell, if it wasn't as cold as it was, Sirius would have been tempted to push Remus against the railing and have his wicked way with him right now.
It was getting harder and harder to control the urge, particularly when Remus's arousal began to press against his own. The desire for sex and to lose himself inside Remus was overpowering. They'd been together now almost a year and Sirius had yet to lose this feeling -- the sensation of being unable to wait to have Remus bare for his eyes to look their fill. His mind's eye conjured the vision of Remus splayed out on the living room rug, firelight dancing across his sweat-slicked skin. Sirius groaned into the kiss, wishing he could project the mental images to Remus. What he would do to Remus -- how he would worship every inch of his body beneath the glow of the Christmas tree. The way Remus would whimper as Sirius lifted his legs over his shoulders, pressing into him all the way to the hilt.
Sirius had no sooner begun to indulge in the fantasy when Remus ended the kiss, his fingers lacing through Sirius's. No, this wasn't right. The kiss should still be going on, but it was air that Sirius's lips moved against, not Remus's own.
Definitely not right.
Remus's fingers rubbed the back of Sirius's, his thumb sliding over the mountains created by his knuckles and gently led him back inside. He paused at the doorway before closing the sliding door behind them both. Sirius didn't miss the way his eyes flicked over towards the small box with the carefully wrapped wolf figurine. Remus said nothing and Sirius didn't push the issue. There were some demons that lived within the guise of harmless ceramic statues but Sirius also knew that together, they'd conquer any foe that stood in their path.
"I hope you bought more hot chocolate," Remus said, releasing Sirius's hand and heading towards the kitchen.
Remus lifted the hem of his soggy jumper, pulling it over his head and banishing it to the bedroom. Thankfully, Remus's back was to Sirius and he missed the way Sirius's eyes roamed over the exposed skin. Remus may have despised the scars, but Sirius thought they were brilliant. More things he could run his tongue over and taste. Remus chose that moment to turn around, affording Sirius yet another perfect view.
"More?!" Sirius sputtered. "I just bought a can of Drinking Chocolate two days ago."
"Yes. Your point?"
"My point, my chocoholic wolf," Sirius teased, removing his own shirt and smirking as Remus's step faltered momentarily, "is that I have a better idea of how to warm you up."
"Do you now? There's something better than chocolate?"
Sirius flicked his wand towards the fireplace, flames leaping to life behind the grate. Sirius laid down on the rug, rolling onto his side and giving Remus his best 'come hither' look. Remus visibly swallowed and Sirius damn near grinned seeing the darkening around the edges of Remus's irises.
"Yes, love. Something much better."
~*~
"Open this one first."
Picking up the package Remus indicated with his foot, Sirius settled, cross-legged, on the floor beside Remus's leg. "Leave it to you to have every single gift and its order planned out to meticulous detail."
"I'm nothing if not predictable," Remus said, hiding a smile behind his hand.
There was no attempt made to save the wrapping paper. Sirius tore into the gift box and after diving through more tissue paper (that's what he should have done with his life: made tissue paper. He would have been set for the rest of his years with only one factory) he pulled out a figurine of a black and brown dog, intertwined together. Sirius placed it in the palm of his hand, glancing up and behind him.
"Look closely."
Brow furrowed, Sirius turned back to look at the figure and realised it was the one from a week ago. The one Remus had tried to destroy if not for a piece of conveniently conjured mistletoe. But the dog? Where had the dog come from? Sirius understood the representation of the two figures, but the meaning was lost on him.
"I don't get it," Sirius confessed, tugging on the leg of Remus's pyjama bottom. "How did you manage...?"
"Regulus helped."
With one smooth motion, Remus slid off the couch to sit beside Sirius. "I took what you said to heart." He plucked the figure from Sirius's hand, tilting his body towards Sirius's. The kiss may have been over in the space of a few heartbeats but Sirius could feel the presence of Remus's lips still lingering on his own.
"It's time to create our own memories."