Homecoming, HP, R/S, PG
Homecoming
By: yeats
Rated: PG
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Summary: At 12 Grimmauld Place, Remus always turned the light off in the kitchen last.
Disclaimer: Oh-so-not-mine.
Warning: OotP spoilers ahoy.
Notes: For the contrelamontre "food" challenge. Written about four minutes over time. I’m not entirely satisfied with this, but it was cathartic.
[Edited to fix some of the word-caused formatting glitches.]
Not until Remus had set down a heaping plate of food in front of Sirius-- only leftovers from dinner, but he'd heated them up as best he could, Sirius assuring him he'd rather chicken now than any seven-course meal six hours from now-- did he begin to take in the full weight of Sirius' return.
Until then, it was almost as if these were the old days: Remus cleaning up for the night and Sirius coming in through the kitchen door (albeit a different, less welcoming, one), sopping wet and smiling, looking for a little bit of affection and a lot of food. The shock too fresh for him to process, Remus offered an embrace and half a chicken, merely raising an eyebrow at the new shadows under his lover's eyes.
Now, though, as he sat before Sirius, watching him shovel food into his mouth with a sickening alacrity (When was the last time he'd eaten?), the full implication of this return hit in one, hard wave. The pressure that caved in his chest sunk his throat into his stomach and made him dizzy; it was the strongest thing he'd allowed himself to feel since the Department of Mysteries. His lover in the kitchen, eating chicken-- it almost sound like a child’s rhyme. Sirius, right here!
"So, you're really back?" he said at last, his voice weak. Really, it was a wonder he could speak at all; his diaphragm felt like it had contorted into sailors' knots.
Sirius looked up from his plate. ""M really back, Moony," he said, food slurring his words. "'N I'd like t'shag you right now t'prove it, but this's m'first meal in two weeks."
Well, that answered one question.
"Later," Sirius affirmed, swallowing. As if to confirm this, he met Remus' gaze with a look that made his breath, already erratic, catch in his throat.
And there went the rest of his carefully constructed stoicism. Remus felt it crumble, wanted to crumple up into a ball at Sirius' feet with it.
"But. How?" Remus was crying now, he knew; he heard the hiccups in his voice rather than felt the passage of tears.
Sirius smiled though a mouthful of pumpkin juice; an orange trail dribbled down his chin. He didn't mop it up, and it slid like sweat down the side of his neck. "I always said I wouldn't leave again, Moony." He reached over to cover one of Remus' hand with his own. "Didn't you believe me?"
"Yes," Remus said helplessly, "but--"
Before he could finish, though, Harry padded into the kitchen. Dressed in Gryffindor pajamas, his hair stuck out at all ends and his eyes were red. For a moment, the sleepy boy didn't seem to notice Sirius at all; he shuffled over to the counter where Molly had laid a batch of chocolate biscuits.
"Don't touch those," Sirius said, "or you'll never get to sleep."
Harry's hand jumped back as if it had been scalded. "What--" he began, turning around to face them. "Sirius!"
"In the flesh," Sirius said mildly, adding, "literally" with a wry smile.
With a cry that fell halfway between a whoop of joy and a sob, Harry launched himself onto his godfather. Remus felt a squeeze of his hand at the ferocious embrace, and Sirius pulled away to wrap his arms around Harry. A part of Remus supposed that Sirius might not appreciate the onslaught in the midst of his meal, but he was loathe to remonstrate the boy-- especially since he'd done what Remus himself had yearned to do.
Muttering a nearly incompreshensible strain of fragments-- thought you were dead, can't believe it, saw you fall, so sorry, don't you ever do that, oh god-- Harry ran his hands over Sirius, as if checking to see that everything was still there. His hands cupped Sirius' face, fingers flying over nose, mouth, closed eyes. He carded his fingers through his hair, and gasped when Sirius yelped at an unexpected tug. "Sorry," he said. Besides that, Sirius remained silent, allowing the boy to inspect him. Remus was glad someone could check; Sirius seemed only to truly become real under his godson's hands.
"Har'" Sirius hissed as Harry experimentally prodded his side, "I think you should get up. Please," he said, face twisted into a grimace.
Harry's eyes-- Remus saw with no surprise that he'd begun to cry as well-- shot up in guilt and he jumped back. "Oh, I'm so-- I didn't mean to-- are you--"
"I'm fine," Sirius insisted, though he seemed to be wincing still. "It's just that your bony arse was digging into me, and I've not had the best six weeks."
Remus snorted.
He waved a hand. "It’s not that bad, I swear. I'm just a bit bruised, is all."
"I-- you--" Harry took the third seat at the tiny table, falling into it with little concern. "....How?"
"That's exactly what I said," Remus supplied. "Apparently through methods too secret for us to know."
"Not tonight," Sirius said. "Trust me, there'll be time for explanation-- more than enough, I think-- tomorrow, and every day after that."
"You're staying, then?" Harry seemed afraid to smile.
"Course I'm staying!" Sirius grinned. "What, you think I'd leave you?" He turned to Remus, who sensed the implicit addition of 'again' to the question. "I couldn't. Not ever," he pressed, and Remus knew that was addressed to him.
Turning back to Harry, Sirius added, "It'd make Snivellus' day, and we couldn't have that, could we?"
Remus found himself laughing, a high-pitched giggle prompted more by nerves than anything else.
"Good!" Harry said fiercely. He went to hug Sirius again, but pulled back sheepishly at the last minute.
"I'm never leaving," Sirius said. "So explanations can wait. All I want to do now is be here, in this godforsaken kitchen with my two favorite people in the world, eating and hearing about my godson's summer."
And, as Harry began to speak, tripping over words in an eagerness to get them out, Remus' frayed universe set about mending itself, weaving close and tight around their little spot of light in the big, dark house.
-end-
By: yeats
Rated: PG
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Summary: At 12 Grimmauld Place, Remus always turned the light off in the kitchen last.
Disclaimer: Oh-so-not-mine.
Warning: OotP spoilers ahoy.
Notes: For the contrelamontre "food" challenge. Written about four minutes over time. I’m not entirely satisfied with this, but it was cathartic.
[Edited to fix some of the word-caused formatting glitches.]
Not until Remus had set down a heaping plate of food in front of Sirius-- only leftovers from dinner, but he'd heated them up as best he could, Sirius assuring him he'd rather chicken now than any seven-course meal six hours from now-- did he begin to take in the full weight of Sirius' return.
Until then, it was almost as if these were the old days: Remus cleaning up for the night and Sirius coming in through the kitchen door (albeit a different, less welcoming, one), sopping wet and smiling, looking for a little bit of affection and a lot of food. The shock too fresh for him to process, Remus offered an embrace and half a chicken, merely raising an eyebrow at the new shadows under his lover's eyes.
Now, though, as he sat before Sirius, watching him shovel food into his mouth with a sickening alacrity (When was the last time he'd eaten?), the full implication of this return hit in one, hard wave. The pressure that caved in his chest sunk his throat into his stomach and made him dizzy; it was the strongest thing he'd allowed himself to feel since the Department of Mysteries. His lover in the kitchen, eating chicken-- it almost sound like a child’s rhyme. Sirius, right here!
"So, you're really back?" he said at last, his voice weak. Really, it was a wonder he could speak at all; his diaphragm felt like it had contorted into sailors' knots.
Sirius looked up from his plate. ""M really back, Moony," he said, food slurring his words. "'N I'd like t'shag you right now t'prove it, but this's m'first meal in two weeks."
Well, that answered one question.
"Later," Sirius affirmed, swallowing. As if to confirm this, he met Remus' gaze with a look that made his breath, already erratic, catch in his throat.
And there went the rest of his carefully constructed stoicism. Remus felt it crumble, wanted to crumple up into a ball at Sirius' feet with it.
"But. How?" Remus was crying now, he knew; he heard the hiccups in his voice rather than felt the passage of tears.
Sirius smiled though a mouthful of pumpkin juice; an orange trail dribbled down his chin. He didn't mop it up, and it slid like sweat down the side of his neck. "I always said I wouldn't leave again, Moony." He reached over to cover one of Remus' hand with his own. "Didn't you believe me?"
"Yes," Remus said helplessly, "but--"
Before he could finish, though, Harry padded into the kitchen. Dressed in Gryffindor pajamas, his hair stuck out at all ends and his eyes were red. For a moment, the sleepy boy didn't seem to notice Sirius at all; he shuffled over to the counter where Molly had laid a batch of chocolate biscuits.
"Don't touch those," Sirius said, "or you'll never get to sleep."
Harry's hand jumped back as if it had been scalded. "What--" he began, turning around to face them. "Sirius!"
"In the flesh," Sirius said mildly, adding, "literally" with a wry smile.
With a cry that fell halfway between a whoop of joy and a sob, Harry launched himself onto his godfather. Remus felt a squeeze of his hand at the ferocious embrace, and Sirius pulled away to wrap his arms around Harry. A part of Remus supposed that Sirius might not appreciate the onslaught in the midst of his meal, but he was loathe to remonstrate the boy-- especially since he'd done what Remus himself had yearned to do.
Muttering a nearly incompreshensible strain of fragments-- thought you were dead, can't believe it, saw you fall, so sorry, don't you ever do that, oh god-- Harry ran his hands over Sirius, as if checking to see that everything was still there. His hands cupped Sirius' face, fingers flying over nose, mouth, closed eyes. He carded his fingers through his hair, and gasped when Sirius yelped at an unexpected tug. "Sorry," he said. Besides that, Sirius remained silent, allowing the boy to inspect him. Remus was glad someone could check; Sirius seemed only to truly become real under his godson's hands.
"Har'" Sirius hissed as Harry experimentally prodded his side, "I think you should get up. Please," he said, face twisted into a grimace.
Harry's eyes-- Remus saw with no surprise that he'd begun to cry as well-- shot up in guilt and he jumped back. "Oh, I'm so-- I didn't mean to-- are you--"
"I'm fine," Sirius insisted, though he seemed to be wincing still. "It's just that your bony arse was digging into me, and I've not had the best six weeks."
Remus snorted.
He waved a hand. "It’s not that bad, I swear. I'm just a bit bruised, is all."
"I-- you--" Harry took the third seat at the tiny table, falling into it with little concern. "....How?"
"That's exactly what I said," Remus supplied. "Apparently through methods too secret for us to know."
"Not tonight," Sirius said. "Trust me, there'll be time for explanation-- more than enough, I think-- tomorrow, and every day after that."
"You're staying, then?" Harry seemed afraid to smile.
"Course I'm staying!" Sirius grinned. "What, you think I'd leave you?" He turned to Remus, who sensed the implicit addition of 'again' to the question. "I couldn't. Not ever," he pressed, and Remus knew that was addressed to him.
Turning back to Harry, Sirius added, "It'd make Snivellus' day, and we couldn't have that, could we?"
Remus found himself laughing, a high-pitched giggle prompted more by nerves than anything else.
"Good!" Harry said fiercely. He went to hug Sirius again, but pulled back sheepishly at the last minute.
"I'm never leaving," Sirius said. "So explanations can wait. All I want to do now is be here, in this godforsaken kitchen with my two favorite people in the world, eating and hearing about my godson's summer."
And, as Harry began to speak, tripping over words in an eagerness to get them out, Remus' frayed universe set about mending itself, weaving close and tight around their little spot of light in the big, dark house.
-end-