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A Comfort [Harry Potter]
Title: A Comfort
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Remus/Sirius
Recipient: For epithalamium, originally posted here @ rs_small_gifts.
Rating: PG
Word count: 1184
Summary: Sirius sets out to help Remus battle arthritis... with the help of the world's second-ugliest Christmas jumper.
Notes: For the prompt "Ugly Christmas jumpers. Bonus if they match." And also includes a bit of the wild card challenge: "Old men being cranky together." Not canon compliant as Sirius never died. Beta-read by teagues_veil.
A Comfort
The winter was unseasonably cold. This had two effects: it drove them indoors, into the warmth of each other’s arms, but it also made Remus’ joints ache. His summer-nimble fingers slowed, stilled almost, fumbling with the pages of a book, the button on a cardigan. His long legs bowed and bent, his gait shuffling unnaturally. You didn’t need to wait for a full moon to see the truth of what he was now; sixty years of breaking bones had left him broken before his time.
Sixty was the new thirty, they said. Sirius would much rather be sixty than thirty. Thirty had been Azkaban. Thirty had passed unmarked, in a dark and cold place. Sixty was, for Sirius, warm fires and hot tea, old jumpers and older companionship. Comfort. In the summer, they went on walks and passed the grandkids back and forth and grumbled about the heat. But each year Sirius dreaded the winter, because he knew what the cold did to Remus. “We should go somewhere,” Sirius would suggest, year after year, but Remus had been everywhere while Sirius had been nowhere at all, and now Remus wanted to stay right here.
Sirius tried. He bought ointments and tinctures at the apothecary, he drew hot baths and put heating charms on the blankets at night, and usually it was enough, but this winter had been unusually cold. The chill seeped through the stones of their cottage, through the fire-lit rooms, and under the warmed covers. It was his own fault, Sirius thought, for wanting an old country house. It was his fault and he wanted to fix it.
The idea came slowly, seeping in like the cold
It might have begun the morning Remus pulled on an old natty jumper out of a box. It was brown wool with a large red poinsettia emblazoned across the front in a field of little green snowflakes. It was absolutely hideous.
“What on earth are you wearing?” Sirius asked.
“It’s the warmest jumper I have,” Remus answered.
“I wouldn’t be caught dead in that even if it were as warm as a baby’s buttcrack.”
Remus raised an eyebrow at Sirius, and that was the end of the discussion.
Well, until the next day, when Remus not only wore that same jumper, but also threw a folded one at Sirius.
“What’s this?” Sirius asked.
“Open it.”
Sirius obliged, and upon unfolding the brown woolen jumper he saw the familiar poinsettia and snowflakes, only his poinsettia was green, and his snowflakes red. “Brilliant,” he said, “a cactus in a rain of blood. Lovely. Where did you find such a work of art?”
“Would you believe I owned two of them? You can have that one, if you like.” There was something wry in Remus’ voice, though he spoke without humor.
“I love it, maybe it will make good kindling,” Sirius said.
“One day,” Remus answered. “Wear it for one day and tell me if it isn’t the warmest jumper you have ever worn.”
Worse than wearing the hideous thing was the fact that Sirius was forced to admit it was unusually cozy. It almost seemed to radiate its own internal heat.
Perhaps that’s where the idea came from, or maybe it had been growing all along, but Sirius knew then what his Christmas present to Remus would be-- if indeed it was possible. He wasn’t fresh on all the magical laws, and he had never been brilliant at inventing charms, but as he and Remus were stuck inside day after day, shut in against the cold, he had nothing better to do than to pour through a million old textbooks. He did have to break down and put in a Floo call to Hermione at one point. He’d had to confine that call to the length of time Remus was in the shower, one ear listening for the water to cease running, but Hermione had given him the final pieces of the puzzle.
If Remus wondered what Sirius was up to, he didn’t say a thing. He just went on wearing that dreadful jumper and fumbling through his book with swollen and bent fingers. Sirius had to look away. He hated the impotent feeling of watching age claim Remus, of seeing the swollen knots of dozens of poorly-healed breaks on Remus’ delicate scholar’s hands. There were some things he would never be able to help with, he knew.
***
Christmas morning, Sirius bounded into the den, all excitement and anticipation. Ever since Azkaban, Christmas in particular, sparked something young and bright in him. The tree was trimmed, the halls decked, and Sirius had slaved since the break of dawn on breakfast: French toast, smoked mackerel, poached eggs, and cheesy potatoes. Later, they would Floo to Arthur and Molly’s for supper. But right now-- Sirius’ spine tingled with anticipation.
They had already opened some gifts last night, of course, but Sirius had held this one back for the morning. Not because he had wanted to, but because he had to wait until Remus took off that damned jumper in order to finish it without arousing suspicion. Sirius had stayed up half the night, working in the dark, darning yarn with his wand clenched between his teeth. But he was finally done.
Sirius handed the wrapped box to Remus, swallowing his apprehension. Maybe Remus had not wanted his old jumper mucked about with. Maybe the charms just wouldn’t work very well. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But all his concerns were buried under another, larger one, when he saw Remus struggling to rip the paper, Remus’s jaw setting against the obvious pain. Sirius itched to interfere and unwrap the present for Remus, but he held his ground.
Finally, Remus opened the plain white box that was under the paper, and lifted out his own woolly jumper: red poinsettia, green snowflakes, and all.
“Um,” Remus pressed his lips in a line, “Thank you? For my own jumper?”
Sirius took it from Remus and jammed it over Remus’ neck, silently hoping this would work. He knew it had worked when he saw Remus’ eyes grow wide.
“A warming charm?” Remus asked.
“Yes. And no. Warming charms wear off rather quickly. This is a soothing charm.”
“I’ve never heard of that.” Remus continued pulling the jumper on over his shirt.
“That would be because I invented it!” Sirius could not help but beam in pride. “It keeps you warm, but not just that, it will never get too warm. It also soothes pain, keeps off water, and smells…” Sirius wrinkled his nose. “Hermione said it was supposed to be a soothing scent. Lavender. But it smells a bit frilly.”
“I think it smells lovely,” Remus said, smiling.
Sirius produced the shirt’s matching cousin, the one with the blood rain, and pulled it on as well. “Best of all, I’ve arranged it so that you can wear that to the Weasleys’ today without risking my death from embarrassment.”
“How’s that?” Remus asked, eyes alight.
“Everyone’s going to wear their most hideous jumpers. There will be a contest. And I’ll win because mine has blood rain.”
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Remus/Sirius
Recipient: For epithalamium, originally posted here @ rs_small_gifts.
Rating: PG
Word count: 1184
Summary: Sirius sets out to help Remus battle arthritis... with the help of the world's second-ugliest Christmas jumper.
Notes: For the prompt "Ugly Christmas jumpers. Bonus if they match." And also includes a bit of the wild card challenge: "Old men being cranky together." Not canon compliant as Sirius never died. Beta-read by teagues_veil.
A Comfort
The winter was unseasonably cold. This had two effects: it drove them indoors, into the warmth of each other’s arms, but it also made Remus’ joints ache. His summer-nimble fingers slowed, stilled almost, fumbling with the pages of a book, the button on a cardigan. His long legs bowed and bent, his gait shuffling unnaturally. You didn’t need to wait for a full moon to see the truth of what he was now; sixty years of breaking bones had left him broken before his time.
Sixty was the new thirty, they said. Sirius would much rather be sixty than thirty. Thirty had been Azkaban. Thirty had passed unmarked, in a dark and cold place. Sixty was, for Sirius, warm fires and hot tea, old jumpers and older companionship. Comfort. In the summer, they went on walks and passed the grandkids back and forth and grumbled about the heat. But each year Sirius dreaded the winter, because he knew what the cold did to Remus. “We should go somewhere,” Sirius would suggest, year after year, but Remus had been everywhere while Sirius had been nowhere at all, and now Remus wanted to stay right here.
Sirius tried. He bought ointments and tinctures at the apothecary, he drew hot baths and put heating charms on the blankets at night, and usually it was enough, but this winter had been unusually cold. The chill seeped through the stones of their cottage, through the fire-lit rooms, and under the warmed covers. It was his own fault, Sirius thought, for wanting an old country house. It was his fault and he wanted to fix it.
The idea came slowly, seeping in like the cold
It might have begun the morning Remus pulled on an old natty jumper out of a box. It was brown wool with a large red poinsettia emblazoned across the front in a field of little green snowflakes. It was absolutely hideous.
“What on earth are you wearing?” Sirius asked.
“It’s the warmest jumper I have,” Remus answered.
“I wouldn’t be caught dead in that even if it were as warm as a baby’s buttcrack.”
Remus raised an eyebrow at Sirius, and that was the end of the discussion.
Well, until the next day, when Remus not only wore that same jumper, but also threw a folded one at Sirius.
“What’s this?” Sirius asked.
“Open it.”
Sirius obliged, and upon unfolding the brown woolen jumper he saw the familiar poinsettia and snowflakes, only his poinsettia was green, and his snowflakes red. “Brilliant,” he said, “a cactus in a rain of blood. Lovely. Where did you find such a work of art?”
“Would you believe I owned two of them? You can have that one, if you like.” There was something wry in Remus’ voice, though he spoke without humor.
“I love it, maybe it will make good kindling,” Sirius said.
“One day,” Remus answered. “Wear it for one day and tell me if it isn’t the warmest jumper you have ever worn.”
Worse than wearing the hideous thing was the fact that Sirius was forced to admit it was unusually cozy. It almost seemed to radiate its own internal heat.
Perhaps that’s where the idea came from, or maybe it had been growing all along, but Sirius knew then what his Christmas present to Remus would be-- if indeed it was possible. He wasn’t fresh on all the magical laws, and he had never been brilliant at inventing charms, but as he and Remus were stuck inside day after day, shut in against the cold, he had nothing better to do than to pour through a million old textbooks. He did have to break down and put in a Floo call to Hermione at one point. He’d had to confine that call to the length of time Remus was in the shower, one ear listening for the water to cease running, but Hermione had given him the final pieces of the puzzle.
If Remus wondered what Sirius was up to, he didn’t say a thing. He just went on wearing that dreadful jumper and fumbling through his book with swollen and bent fingers. Sirius had to look away. He hated the impotent feeling of watching age claim Remus, of seeing the swollen knots of dozens of poorly-healed breaks on Remus’ delicate scholar’s hands. There were some things he would never be able to help with, he knew.
***
Christmas morning, Sirius bounded into the den, all excitement and anticipation. Ever since Azkaban, Christmas in particular, sparked something young and bright in him. The tree was trimmed, the halls decked, and Sirius had slaved since the break of dawn on breakfast: French toast, smoked mackerel, poached eggs, and cheesy potatoes. Later, they would Floo to Arthur and Molly’s for supper. But right now-- Sirius’ spine tingled with anticipation.
They had already opened some gifts last night, of course, but Sirius had held this one back for the morning. Not because he had wanted to, but because he had to wait until Remus took off that damned jumper in order to finish it without arousing suspicion. Sirius had stayed up half the night, working in the dark, darning yarn with his wand clenched between his teeth. But he was finally done.
Sirius handed the wrapped box to Remus, swallowing his apprehension. Maybe Remus had not wanted his old jumper mucked about with. Maybe the charms just wouldn’t work very well. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But all his concerns were buried under another, larger one, when he saw Remus struggling to rip the paper, Remus’s jaw setting against the obvious pain. Sirius itched to interfere and unwrap the present for Remus, but he held his ground.
Finally, Remus opened the plain white box that was under the paper, and lifted out his own woolly jumper: red poinsettia, green snowflakes, and all.
“Um,” Remus pressed his lips in a line, “Thank you? For my own jumper?”
Sirius took it from Remus and jammed it over Remus’ neck, silently hoping this would work. He knew it had worked when he saw Remus’ eyes grow wide.
“A warming charm?” Remus asked.
“Yes. And no. Warming charms wear off rather quickly. This is a soothing charm.”
“I’ve never heard of that.” Remus continued pulling the jumper on over his shirt.
“That would be because I invented it!” Sirius could not help but beam in pride. “It keeps you warm, but not just that, it will never get too warm. It also soothes pain, keeps off water, and smells…” Sirius wrinkled his nose. “Hermione said it was supposed to be a soothing scent. Lavender. But it smells a bit frilly.”
“I think it smells lovely,” Remus said, smiling.
Sirius produced the shirt’s matching cousin, the one with the blood rain, and pulled it on as well. “Best of all, I’ve arranged it so that you can wear that to the Weasleys’ today without risking my death from embarrassment.”
“How’s that?” Remus asked, eyes alight.
“Everyone’s going to wear their most hideous jumpers. There will be a contest. And I’ll win because mine has blood rain.”