The Brightest Star
Title: The Brightest Star
Author: RaeLouise
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters involved in this story, or this setting/the canon references. This is a work of fiction in it's entirety, inspired by the work of JK Rowling.
Word count: 1, 588
Warnings: Age play and daddy!kink. Plus, fluff.
Summary: Revisiting my Of charmed trains, biscuits and baths!verse for Christmas. Lots of decorations, hidden sweets and sleeping out beneath the Christmas tree.
“And last but not least?” Remus asks, guiding the final set of spangled ruby glass baubles up onto the branches of the tall fir with his wand. The branches are already bowing, heavy with frothing ribbons and sparkles; singing robin redbreasts and a host of glimmering wax candles, but what’s a Christmas tree without an extra set of baubles?
Sirius, who has been mostly watching with his eyes ablaze like a log fire and his hands clasped in front of himself, jumps at the chance to be of help. He crashes down to his knees, unf, and proceeds to dig deep into his Christmas decorations box. Not so large from the looks of it, but charmed with an undetectable extension spell, Remus has to keep an eye on the other to make sure he doesn’t topple right in. Not that Sirius would mind- he likes boxes, especially boxes filled with remnants of tinsel and his woolen stocking, which they’ve yet to set above the fire place. He’d probably set up camp over the whole festive period and suggest Remus join him within it for their turkey dinner. And Remus would, however cramped and difficult it would be to pour the gravy from the boat.
“Can you remember what you’re looking for?” Remus feels the need to ask, doubtful that Sirius’ mind is on much more than snitch patterned gift wrap and mince pies right now. Not that he can blame the other. “Begins with an ‘s’, yes?”
He needn’t of worried, though. Sirius has the star by it’s top most point and barely seconds after Remus has reminded him, he’s sitting and hoisting it up, high above his head. It’s large and Remus is quite sure the tree will need a couple of spells to keep it steady once they’ve set it on top, but it also glows wonderfully, sending yellowy beams down over Sirius’ lovely knobby wrists and the top of his dark hair. They’d chosen it together, from one of the little Yuletide stalls that always sprung up in Diagon Alley come late-November. On that day, Sirius had also taken to calling Remus, Daddy. All hushed and unsure, terribly endearing. Remus, although surprised, found he was quite fond of that addition to their relationship.
“Perfect, little one! You’re a star, did you know that? The brightest star in the night sky!” Remus ruffles through Sirius’ hair, and then helps him to his feet- arms about his waist once he’s standing, “Would you like to help me now, maybe?”
It’s a memory Remus has from his own childhood Christmases. His Father’s wand in hand, his hand within his Father’s. He’d really done nothing at all, neither muttered the right incantation nor guided the swish of the wand, but he’d always felt a burst of pride in his chest when their old star had floated up and set it’s self comfortably on the very top of the tree. From the way Sirius’ toes scrunch against the worn carpeting, and his breathing stills, Remus knows that he feels the same and something about the wonder Sirius possesses reminds him of his first ever Hogwarts Christmas. His innocent disbelief at the grandeur of the castle come Winter: the thick powdery snow, perfect for inter-house snowball battles; the twelve mammoth trees and their never-melting icicles; the great wreaths of holly, with fat ripe red berries. It’s special.
“Oh Daddy, it’s the best tree I ever saw!” Sirius gasps with what Remus can only call awe, paired with excitable clapping and the great mass of ornaments reflected in his eyes, “I love it!”
“Just one more thing now,” Remus smiles warmly [the scars laced over his handsome face softened by the candle light, his hazel eyes enhanced by it] before he quietly accios Sirius’ brand new stocking out from the box.
It’s gold and crimson, because Sirius absolutely insisted, with an ‘S’ sewn to the front and tiny bells edging the opening [so that Sirius can listen out for Santa Claus] and when the werewolf catches it he fakes surprise, as if the oversized sock is weightier than expected. He shakes it so that it jingles.
“Have you been hiding things in here, young man?” He asks Sirius, who’s eyes flare wide as his head shakes wildly, “Because... hmmm.” Remus opens up the top and peers inside, squinting comically, so that Sirius’ silent shock becomes a giggle fit, “There are sweets in here!”
Sirius gasps, “For me?!”
“Oh yes,” Remus nods, “I would say so, sweets for Sirius, and possibly for his Daddy if he would be kind enough to share. Though I believe Sirius probably needs to get into his ‘jamas first.”
Before Sirius can protest, Remus’ hands reach his shoulders and he guides his lover through from the living room to their bedroom. Usually, Sirius is a brat about anything practical- pajamas, bedtime, a breakfast composed of anything with some nutritional value. But, Christmas time is apparently different. Perhaps it’s the low lighting calming his spirit, or all of the twinkling leaving him dazed, but he’s remarkably manageable for Remus tonight. Out of his jeans and t-shirt without any fuss, into a pair of toasty pajamas. The little boy sort. Deep blue fleecy all-in-ones with feet. Remus insists on it once the temperature starts to drop! And of course, they serve that purpose, but they also make Sirius look almost more adorable than Remus can stand.
“Daddy, you’re dreaming,” Sirius whines, after letting Remus admire him for maybe two minutes, “If we’re not careful- Cornish pixies will sneak in for my sweeties!”
Back in the living room, they sit on the floor beside the enchanting tree and Sirius curls in close, with his cheek to Remus’ chest and one foot thrown haphazardly across the werewolf’s ankles. From there, they can see all of their day’s decorating: the beeswax candles hovering here and there, their flames beaming and flittering like live fairies; the festooning of evergreens, spangled berries and pine cones over the mantel piece and the flurry of paper snowflakes which they’d sat and made the muggle way one night, listening to carols on the wireless. The snowflakes have somehow gotten everywhere, but they were Sirius’ job, so that’d explain it. What seems like hundreds hang on invisible threads from the ceiling and there are swaths of them around the door frame, too. Their star casts a halo of light over it all. Wraps them up in a blazing blanket.
Sirius yawns, but Remus knows better than to expect the other to sleep when there’s been the offer of treats. So, despite Sirius’ heavy eyes, he empties out the stocking into his lap. A small portion of a Honeyduke’s Christmas Hamper pools invitingly: rotund chocolate galleons in metallic wrappers, ice mice, creamy chocoballs and a handful of honey-coloured toffees. Sirius dives in for a chocoball, shoving it in whole for an explosion of thick strawberry filling, and Remus unwraps a coin. They are a rather perfect reward after all of their hard work and the werewolf is proud of himself for having the forethought to hide them. For his boy.
His boy, who manages to demolish the majority of the candy- just about getting the jewel coloured wrappers off before the sweets are in his maw. He leaves Remus with just one pitiful toffee. However, Remus does get the roundness of Sirius’ rump snuggled into the curve of his hand. Plus the delectable scent of cocoa, pine and baby boy beneath his nose. Within their little haven of cuddling and paper craft snow storms, all is well and at peace. Sirius’ heart is light with relief and giddy with holiday anticipation, and Remus’ loaded with love. He wonders about flicking his wand towards the wireless and finding a seasonal station, but Sirius will only want to dance and it’s rather late now. Tomorrow, perhaps.
“What do you think Father Christmas will be bringing you?” Remus asks instead, as he eyes an animated illustration of the jolly old fat man waving from a card. It’s a clever ploy really, so that he can triple check he’s made the right choices, “Hmmm?”
Sirius has gone terribly quiet though and despite Remus having foreseen a late night, thanks to their snacking, it seems his little boy’s day has caught up with him. All that climbing and wobbling, tacking up snowflakes. Where there was sweets, there is now his thumb, and his eyes that were electric light bright and terribly tired all at once are closed.
“Oh.” Remus whispers, brushing his knuckles over Sirius’ warm rosy cheek and enjoying him for a second, “I think... I think we’ll sleep here tonight.”
Beneath the tree, with it’s many baubles reflecting the many candles, he settles with Sirius. Summons thick blankets and pillows and sets them up a makeshift bed, as efficiently as he can with Sirius snuffling on his chest. Then, with his wand, he extinguishes each lit candle and remembers to cast the counter-charm that mutes the tweeting robin redbreasts. Laying in the almost-dark, he’s still in day clothes [and neither of them have brushed their teeth!] but there’s a weight in his legs demanding he be lazy. It tells Remus to slow down and enjoy, that this will only come once yearly after all. And who really knows, in these times... He shuts off the latter thoughts, complies and allows himself to drift off.
The large luminous star watches over him and his baby in their sleep.
Author: RaeLouise
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters involved in this story, or this setting/the canon references. This is a work of fiction in it's entirety, inspired by the work of JK Rowling.
Word count: 1, 588
Warnings: Age play and daddy!kink. Plus, fluff.
Summary: Revisiting my Of charmed trains, biscuits and baths!verse for Christmas. Lots of decorations, hidden sweets and sleeping out beneath the Christmas tree.
“And last but not least?” Remus asks, guiding the final set of spangled ruby glass baubles up onto the branches of the tall fir with his wand. The branches are already bowing, heavy with frothing ribbons and sparkles; singing robin redbreasts and a host of glimmering wax candles, but what’s a Christmas tree without an extra set of baubles?
Sirius, who has been mostly watching with his eyes ablaze like a log fire and his hands clasped in front of himself, jumps at the chance to be of help. He crashes down to his knees, unf, and proceeds to dig deep into his Christmas decorations box. Not so large from the looks of it, but charmed with an undetectable extension spell, Remus has to keep an eye on the other to make sure he doesn’t topple right in. Not that Sirius would mind- he likes boxes, especially boxes filled with remnants of tinsel and his woolen stocking, which they’ve yet to set above the fire place. He’d probably set up camp over the whole festive period and suggest Remus join him within it for their turkey dinner. And Remus would, however cramped and difficult it would be to pour the gravy from the boat.
“Can you remember what you’re looking for?” Remus feels the need to ask, doubtful that Sirius’ mind is on much more than snitch patterned gift wrap and mince pies right now. Not that he can blame the other. “Begins with an ‘s’, yes?”
He needn’t of worried, though. Sirius has the star by it’s top most point and barely seconds after Remus has reminded him, he’s sitting and hoisting it up, high above his head. It’s large and Remus is quite sure the tree will need a couple of spells to keep it steady once they’ve set it on top, but it also glows wonderfully, sending yellowy beams down over Sirius’ lovely knobby wrists and the top of his dark hair. They’d chosen it together, from one of the little Yuletide stalls that always sprung up in Diagon Alley come late-November. On that day, Sirius had also taken to calling Remus, Daddy. All hushed and unsure, terribly endearing. Remus, although surprised, found he was quite fond of that addition to their relationship.
“Perfect, little one! You’re a star, did you know that? The brightest star in the night sky!” Remus ruffles through Sirius’ hair, and then helps him to his feet- arms about his waist once he’s standing, “Would you like to help me now, maybe?”
It’s a memory Remus has from his own childhood Christmases. His Father’s wand in hand, his hand within his Father’s. He’d really done nothing at all, neither muttered the right incantation nor guided the swish of the wand, but he’d always felt a burst of pride in his chest when their old star had floated up and set it’s self comfortably on the very top of the tree. From the way Sirius’ toes scrunch against the worn carpeting, and his breathing stills, Remus knows that he feels the same and something about the wonder Sirius possesses reminds him of his first ever Hogwarts Christmas. His innocent disbelief at the grandeur of the castle come Winter: the thick powdery snow, perfect for inter-house snowball battles; the twelve mammoth trees and their never-melting icicles; the great wreaths of holly, with fat ripe red berries. It’s special.
“Oh Daddy, it’s the best tree I ever saw!” Sirius gasps with what Remus can only call awe, paired with excitable clapping and the great mass of ornaments reflected in his eyes, “I love it!”
“Just one more thing now,” Remus smiles warmly [the scars laced over his handsome face softened by the candle light, his hazel eyes enhanced by it] before he quietly accios Sirius’ brand new stocking out from the box.
It’s gold and crimson, because Sirius absolutely insisted, with an ‘S’ sewn to the front and tiny bells edging the opening [so that Sirius can listen out for Santa Claus] and when the werewolf catches it he fakes surprise, as if the oversized sock is weightier than expected. He shakes it so that it jingles.
“Have you been hiding things in here, young man?” He asks Sirius, who’s eyes flare wide as his head shakes wildly, “Because... hmmm.” Remus opens up the top and peers inside, squinting comically, so that Sirius’ silent shock becomes a giggle fit, “There are sweets in here!”
Sirius gasps, “For me?!”
“Oh yes,” Remus nods, “I would say so, sweets for Sirius, and possibly for his Daddy if he would be kind enough to share. Though I believe Sirius probably needs to get into his ‘jamas first.”
Before Sirius can protest, Remus’ hands reach his shoulders and he guides his lover through from the living room to their bedroom. Usually, Sirius is a brat about anything practical- pajamas, bedtime, a breakfast composed of anything with some nutritional value. But, Christmas time is apparently different. Perhaps it’s the low lighting calming his spirit, or all of the twinkling leaving him dazed, but he’s remarkably manageable for Remus tonight. Out of his jeans and t-shirt without any fuss, into a pair of toasty pajamas. The little boy sort. Deep blue fleecy all-in-ones with feet. Remus insists on it once the temperature starts to drop! And of course, they serve that purpose, but they also make Sirius look almost more adorable than Remus can stand.
“Daddy, you’re dreaming,” Sirius whines, after letting Remus admire him for maybe two minutes, “If we’re not careful- Cornish pixies will sneak in for my sweeties!”
Back in the living room, they sit on the floor beside the enchanting tree and Sirius curls in close, with his cheek to Remus’ chest and one foot thrown haphazardly across the werewolf’s ankles. From there, they can see all of their day’s decorating: the beeswax candles hovering here and there, their flames beaming and flittering like live fairies; the festooning of evergreens, spangled berries and pine cones over the mantel piece and the flurry of paper snowflakes which they’d sat and made the muggle way one night, listening to carols on the wireless. The snowflakes have somehow gotten everywhere, but they were Sirius’ job, so that’d explain it. What seems like hundreds hang on invisible threads from the ceiling and there are swaths of them around the door frame, too. Their star casts a halo of light over it all. Wraps them up in a blazing blanket.
Sirius yawns, but Remus knows better than to expect the other to sleep when there’s been the offer of treats. So, despite Sirius’ heavy eyes, he empties out the stocking into his lap. A small portion of a Honeyduke’s Christmas Hamper pools invitingly: rotund chocolate galleons in metallic wrappers, ice mice, creamy chocoballs and a handful of honey-coloured toffees. Sirius dives in for a chocoball, shoving it in whole for an explosion of thick strawberry filling, and Remus unwraps a coin. They are a rather perfect reward after all of their hard work and the werewolf is proud of himself for having the forethought to hide them. For his boy.
His boy, who manages to demolish the majority of the candy- just about getting the jewel coloured wrappers off before the sweets are in his maw. He leaves Remus with just one pitiful toffee. However, Remus does get the roundness of Sirius’ rump snuggled into the curve of his hand. Plus the delectable scent of cocoa, pine and baby boy beneath his nose. Within their little haven of cuddling and paper craft snow storms, all is well and at peace. Sirius’ heart is light with relief and giddy with holiday anticipation, and Remus’ loaded with love. He wonders about flicking his wand towards the wireless and finding a seasonal station, but Sirius will only want to dance and it’s rather late now. Tomorrow, perhaps.
“What do you think Father Christmas will be bringing you?” Remus asks instead, as he eyes an animated illustration of the jolly old fat man waving from a card. It’s a clever ploy really, so that he can triple check he’s made the right choices, “Hmmm?”
Sirius has gone terribly quiet though and despite Remus having foreseen a late night, thanks to their snacking, it seems his little boy’s day has caught up with him. All that climbing and wobbling, tacking up snowflakes. Where there was sweets, there is now his thumb, and his eyes that were electric light bright and terribly tired all at once are closed.
“Oh.” Remus whispers, brushing his knuckles over Sirius’ warm rosy cheek and enjoying him for a second, “I think... I think we’ll sleep here tonight.”
Beneath the tree, with it’s many baubles reflecting the many candles, he settles with Sirius. Summons thick blankets and pillows and sets them up a makeshift bed, as efficiently as he can with Sirius snuffling on his chest. Then, with his wand, he extinguishes each lit candle and remembers to cast the counter-charm that mutes the tweeting robin redbreasts. Laying in the almost-dark, he’s still in day clothes [and neither of them have brushed their teeth!] but there’s a weight in his legs demanding he be lazy. It tells Remus to slow down and enjoy, that this will only come once yearly after all. And who really knows, in these times... He shuts off the latter thoughts, complies and allows himself to drift off.
The large luminous star watches over him and his baby in their sleep.