FIC: In the Arms of the Ocean [Sirius/James]
Title: In the Arms of the Ocean
Author/Artist: writcraft
Prompt: A thick fog has been rolling in for days -- what's out there in the mist? by blithelybonny
Pairing(s): Sirius Black/James Potter
Word Count/Art Medium: ~2,200
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Major Character Death, Angst, Romance, Mindfuck
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: I hope you enjoy this, blithelybonny. Thanks for a super prompt, which gave me so many ideas I didn’t know which one to settle on. I hope you enjoy the results.
Summary: I wake to the cool light of the breaking dawn, the air fresh with the scent of rain. It’s another autumn daybreak and the windows frost with raindrops and condensation. I can smell grass, the dewy chill of the morning and James.
In the Arms of the Ocean
I wake to the cool light of the breaking dawn, the air fresh with the scent of rain. It’s another autumn daybreak and the windows frost with raindrops and condensation. I can smell grass, the dewy chill of the morning and James.
He smells so fucking good, I want to bury myself in him and never come up for air.
Even on a cold autumn morning, everything about James reminds me of summertime. He’s tanned, warm and restless. He uses shampoo which smells like coconuts. It reminds me of that time in Brighton, when the pebbles were hot with sunshine and smooth and hard beneath our feet. We ran into the sea while the waves crashed over us. I pushed him, and he pushed me back until we were both laughing like we’d never stop, and his kisses tasted like ocean spray.
It seems important, somehow. That fragmented memory which kaleidoscopes through my mind. It seems important to hold onto it, like it’s something vital - something to be savoured.
“Morning.” James rolls over, as if my thoughts are loud enough to beckon him awake. “Careful.”
“Careful of what?”
James touches my face, and when he smiles it’s like a hundred years have passed.
“Don’t go back to sleep.”
“Don’t be soft.” I won’t sleep, because I can’t. Not when James smiles at me in a way which tears into my heart. Not when there’s a whole day ahead of us, and his heart beats against my palm. Not when he’s so vibrant and alive, kissing me until I think I’m going to fall apart.
Don’t close your eyes.
Maybe he says it, or maybe I do.
We kiss again until maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.
*
Sometimes, I think we could rule the world.
“We’ll fly later today,” I say. We’re invincible, me and James. When we fly it’s like we’re catching clouds, twisting through the sky and speeding into the sunset. I could let my broom fall to the ground and fly without wings, using magic and blind faith to turn in the evening sky as it turns from blood-red to indigo dusk.
“I can’t be bothered to fly.” James stretches and the sheets shift, giving me a glimpse of the taut, lean lines of his thigh. Christ, I want to devour him. I can’t remember the last time I ate, but the only thing I’m hungry for is James.
“Convince me.” I flash him a smile and push the sheet away to expose more of his body to my greedy gaze. I drink my fill of him. He’s got a small dragon tattoo which huffs smoke and curls motionless on his hip. We both got them one night, when we had too much of Aberforth’s cherry brandy. “That stupid fucking dragon.” I run my fingers over it, and laugh.
“I’d prefer a dragon to a parrot,” James retorts, his voice rich and warm.
“It’s not a parrot you prick. It’s a phoenix.”
“Doesn’t look much like a phoenix to me.” James shifts lower and stares at my hip, before leaning forwards and kissing the exposed skin. It sends a shiver through my body. “Let’s stay here. Where it’s warm.” James smiles and it’s fucking lovely. “Besides, I’ve gone off flying.”
He’s probably right. The fog’s rolling in and I don’t want to spread out my arms and let myself fall to the earth today.
I want to stay right where I am, where everything is just as it should be.
*
“Why are you here?”
It’s too quiet and I’m starting to feel sleepy. It’s exhausting doing nothing, but I don’t want the morning to end. It’s too dark sometimes when the fog swallows the sun, and I wonder when I stopped being invincible and started to feel afraid of the dark.
“Because I want to be here. Daft prat.” James studies my hand, and brings it to his lips so he can kiss it, one finger at a time. It’s a strange gesture and very unlike James. He’s not usually tender. Neither of us are - we’re usually rough and tumble. We bite, scratch and roll around like animals until it’s not a game anymore, just another shock of endless kisses.
Perhaps we’ve spent too many hours together in the too-small bed, planning to get up and face the morning.
I’d move, but it’s toasty under the crisp sheets and the sky is dark and ominous. Just watching James kiss my hand makes a lump rise in my throat, and it becomes difficult to swallow around it - like I’ve forgotten how to breathe properly.
“Aren’t you glad you decided to stop fucking girls?”
I’m aiming for my usual brash, bravado to break the intimate moment. Instead it sounds spikey edged and accusatory.
James drops my hand and I hold onto it again to haul him back until he’s whispering in my ear. “This isn’t about fucking.”
“No?” I school my face into a smile. I stroke my fingers over James and luxuriate in his warmth. I run my lips over his collarbone and keep him close, my voice a husky murmur. “What’s it about, then?”
James arches beneath me with a low growl of pleasure, his hand in my hair rough and confident. “It’s about remembering.”
“Oh?” It’s a funny thing to say, and I look up to meet another one of James’ blinding smiles.
“And staying awake.”
“Yeah.” I push back another wave of tiredness and smile as James pushes me down his body with urgent pleas and whispers.
*
Just for a moment, I fall asleep.
I don’t mean to, but it’s so warm and the James’ whispering sounds like water, wind and rain. I’m reminded of kisses that taste like sea and lick my lips, tasting every last drop.
There’s a scream and a growl that wakes me with a start. My hands clutch at damp sheets until James is with me and I’m in his arms. The screams slide away from me and disappear into the shadows, and outside the mist dances in the air like clouds, cloaking all the stars until the night is black and empty.
“There’s something out there,” I say. “Something bad.”
“It’s just another dream.” James kisses my ear and speaks in soothing words. “You’re at my place, don’t you remember? You got pissed, we fucked and you told me that you loved me.”
“I did?” My body flushes with heat, and James has the daft sort of look I like the best. He smiles and it’s full of sunshine and warmth.
“Yeah, you did.”
“What did you say?” I hold my breath and James shrugs.
“You’re my best mate. I’ll always love you best.” James winks. “Besides, you know all my secrets.”
I’m suddenly cold and the wind and the rain picks up until the whistling of the wind drowns out my thoughts. If I listen hard enough, I think I can hear a baby crying somewhere in the distance.
“Padfoot.” James nudges me awake, his voice urgent. “Don’t you remember?”
“Yes,” I say.
I do, and I don’t.
*
I think about going outside when James opens the window to let air into the room. I feel like we’ve been holed up for ages, not that I’m complaining.
James finds some of his dad’s sherry so we decide to sit up, drinking and playing poker for chocolate frogs.
“I got Dumbledore.” James grins and waves the card in my face. “I’ve been after him for ages.”
“Careful, or I’ll think I’ve got something to worry about.” I’m pissed and my words are heavy. It’s a stupid joke, but I don’t care. It seems funny when I say it, and James does me the courtesy of letting out a short bark of laughter.
“Idiot.” James snorts. “But I’ll let you off. Because you’re my idiot.”
“You’ve had too much sherry.” I point a finger at James, rolling onto my side. My stomach churns and I swallow back a wave of nausea because I definitely don’t want to throw up on the carpet.
“You’ve had too much sherry,” James corrects. He’s smiling, and I know he doesn’t really care. He ruffles my hair and laughs, and it’s like the room’s light for the first time in ages. “I’d say you’re going to be sick as a dog, but…”
“You can do better than that, J.” I push him onto the floor, and kiss him breathless until he’s yanking at my trousers and we’re rolling around and laughing as we exchange another clumsy kiss. “Steady, for fucks sake.”
“I’m doing my best. Not easy after all of the booze.”
James kisses me again, and I’m far too occupied with his lips to tell him his best is more than good enough for me.
*
There’s something out there, in the sky. The fog’s always there these days, and it rolls closer bringing a sense of rising hopelessness that nothing seems to shift.
It’s like the sun doesn’t shine anymore, and I’m so tired of staying awake I want to sleep again - just for a while.
“I’ve got to go, it’s time.” James stands and tugs on his jeans. He looks so young and I can almost believe I’m back in the Gryffindor common room, pretending not to watch James dress.
“Can’t you stay?” My voice is lazy with sleep and I yawn, reaching out a hand for James. “Come back to bed. I don’t want to sleep without you.”
Don’t go, James. Just stay a bit longer, where it’s warm and they’re not going to find us.
I want him to come back to bed. I want his arms around me and his eyes shining with laughter like he’s never heard a better joke. I reach for him again, but find nothing more than dust and shadows.
I’m sure it’s not night time yet, but when I look out of the window the sun’s gone out.
*
“Why did you leave?”
James comes back again, but this time he’s different. He’s ashen, and the air in our once cosy room tastes like death.
“I didn’t.” He looks sad, and he’s so cold it hurts to touch him. “I’m always here, you just need to remember.”
But I can’t, when the fog slides closer and the clouds are heavy with the coming storm. I can’t remember James, when my heart is heavy with anguish and my mouth tastes like rats and filth. I can’t remember James when the dark towers of-
Hogwarts.
Sunshine breaking through the clouds. Brooms twisting through the air and the memory of James laughing, as if he’s still alive.
He’s shouting, like there’s something to be mindful of - like there’s something I need to forget, or something I need to remember. I don’t know anymore. I trace my fingers over the walls and wonder why I never noticed they were made moss-covered stone. My fingertips come away damp and they smell like blood, and the sea.
Remember Brighton
I can almost see him again, not quite close enough to touch. He’s so fucking young and beautiful, it makes me want to turn myself inside out for him. The air around him is the only bit that’s still light and warm and I want to reach it but I can’t. My limbs are heavy with sleep and when I move it sounds like metal hitting stone.
James mouths words that look like remember, remember, remember and I strain to hear him over the wind and the howling of the sea. The fog descends and the window slams against the stone, until I’m not sure there’s anything between me and the sky anymore. I turn the hand James kissed, once, and wonder when I scratched my nails away to nothing.
If I concentrate really, really hard I can still see him - like he’s flesh and bone. I want to know if he’s as warm as I remember. I want to know if his kisses still taste like sherry and the ocean. I want to know if he-
Forgives me
Not that. Don’t think about that. Not when the fog’s close enough to suffocate.
“Padfoot?”
It sounds like a plea, but it’s all just whispers on the wind. I want to believe I can really see him, somewhere in the clouds. I want to pull him close to hold him one more time, but he’s so far away and the air is heavy with fog and tears.
I close my eyes and tell him I’d give anything. Anything at all.
I’d give my soul for one, last Kiss.
~Fin~
Author/Artist: writcraft
Prompt: A thick fog has been rolling in for days -- what's out there in the mist? by blithelybonny
Pairing(s): Sirius Black/James Potter
Word Count/Art Medium: ~2,200
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Major Character Death, Angst, Romance, Mindfuck
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: I hope you enjoy this, blithelybonny. Thanks for a super prompt, which gave me so many ideas I didn’t know which one to settle on. I hope you enjoy the results.
Summary: I wake to the cool light of the breaking dawn, the air fresh with the scent of rain. It’s another autumn daybreak and the windows frost with raindrops and condensation. I can smell grass, the dewy chill of the morning and James.
In the Arms of the Ocean
I wake to the cool light of the breaking dawn, the air fresh with the scent of rain. It’s another autumn daybreak and the windows frost with raindrops and condensation. I can smell grass, the dewy chill of the morning and James.
He smells so fucking good, I want to bury myself in him and never come up for air.
Even on a cold autumn morning, everything about James reminds me of summertime. He’s tanned, warm and restless. He uses shampoo which smells like coconuts. It reminds me of that time in Brighton, when the pebbles were hot with sunshine and smooth and hard beneath our feet. We ran into the sea while the waves crashed over us. I pushed him, and he pushed me back until we were both laughing like we’d never stop, and his kisses tasted like ocean spray.
It seems important, somehow. That fragmented memory which kaleidoscopes through my mind. It seems important to hold onto it, like it’s something vital - something to be savoured.
“Morning.” James rolls over, as if my thoughts are loud enough to beckon him awake. “Careful.”
“Careful of what?”
James touches my face, and when he smiles it’s like a hundred years have passed.
“Don’t go back to sleep.”
“Don’t be soft.” I won’t sleep, because I can’t. Not when James smiles at me in a way which tears into my heart. Not when there’s a whole day ahead of us, and his heart beats against my palm. Not when he’s so vibrant and alive, kissing me until I think I’m going to fall apart.
Don’t close your eyes.
Maybe he says it, or maybe I do.
We kiss again until maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.
*
Sometimes, I think we could rule the world.
“We’ll fly later today,” I say. We’re invincible, me and James. When we fly it’s like we’re catching clouds, twisting through the sky and speeding into the sunset. I could let my broom fall to the ground and fly without wings, using magic and blind faith to turn in the evening sky as it turns from blood-red to indigo dusk.
“I can’t be bothered to fly.” James stretches and the sheets shift, giving me a glimpse of the taut, lean lines of his thigh. Christ, I want to devour him. I can’t remember the last time I ate, but the only thing I’m hungry for is James.
“Convince me.” I flash him a smile and push the sheet away to expose more of his body to my greedy gaze. I drink my fill of him. He’s got a small dragon tattoo which huffs smoke and curls motionless on his hip. We both got them one night, when we had too much of Aberforth’s cherry brandy. “That stupid fucking dragon.” I run my fingers over it, and laugh.
“I’d prefer a dragon to a parrot,” James retorts, his voice rich and warm.
“It’s not a parrot you prick. It’s a phoenix.”
“Doesn’t look much like a phoenix to me.” James shifts lower and stares at my hip, before leaning forwards and kissing the exposed skin. It sends a shiver through my body. “Let’s stay here. Where it’s warm.” James smiles and it’s fucking lovely. “Besides, I’ve gone off flying.”
He’s probably right. The fog’s rolling in and I don’t want to spread out my arms and let myself fall to the earth today.
I want to stay right where I am, where everything is just as it should be.
*
“Why are you here?”
It’s too quiet and I’m starting to feel sleepy. It’s exhausting doing nothing, but I don’t want the morning to end. It’s too dark sometimes when the fog swallows the sun, and I wonder when I stopped being invincible and started to feel afraid of the dark.
“Because I want to be here. Daft prat.” James studies my hand, and brings it to his lips so he can kiss it, one finger at a time. It’s a strange gesture and very unlike James. He’s not usually tender. Neither of us are - we’re usually rough and tumble. We bite, scratch and roll around like animals until it’s not a game anymore, just another shock of endless kisses.
Perhaps we’ve spent too many hours together in the too-small bed, planning to get up and face the morning.
I’d move, but it’s toasty under the crisp sheets and the sky is dark and ominous. Just watching James kiss my hand makes a lump rise in my throat, and it becomes difficult to swallow around it - like I’ve forgotten how to breathe properly.
“Aren’t you glad you decided to stop fucking girls?”
I’m aiming for my usual brash, bravado to break the intimate moment. Instead it sounds spikey edged and accusatory.
James drops my hand and I hold onto it again to haul him back until he’s whispering in my ear. “This isn’t about fucking.”
“No?” I school my face into a smile. I stroke my fingers over James and luxuriate in his warmth. I run my lips over his collarbone and keep him close, my voice a husky murmur. “What’s it about, then?”
James arches beneath me with a low growl of pleasure, his hand in my hair rough and confident. “It’s about remembering.”
“Oh?” It’s a funny thing to say, and I look up to meet another one of James’ blinding smiles.
“And staying awake.”
“Yeah.” I push back another wave of tiredness and smile as James pushes me down his body with urgent pleas and whispers.
*
Just for a moment, I fall asleep.
I don’t mean to, but it’s so warm and the James’ whispering sounds like water, wind and rain. I’m reminded of kisses that taste like sea and lick my lips, tasting every last drop.
There’s a scream and a growl that wakes me with a start. My hands clutch at damp sheets until James is with me and I’m in his arms. The screams slide away from me and disappear into the shadows, and outside the mist dances in the air like clouds, cloaking all the stars until the night is black and empty.
“There’s something out there,” I say. “Something bad.”
“It’s just another dream.” James kisses my ear and speaks in soothing words. “You’re at my place, don’t you remember? You got pissed, we fucked and you told me that you loved me.”
“I did?” My body flushes with heat, and James has the daft sort of look I like the best. He smiles and it’s full of sunshine and warmth.
“Yeah, you did.”
“What did you say?” I hold my breath and James shrugs.
“You’re my best mate. I’ll always love you best.” James winks. “Besides, you know all my secrets.”
I’m suddenly cold and the wind and the rain picks up until the whistling of the wind drowns out my thoughts. If I listen hard enough, I think I can hear a baby crying somewhere in the distance.
“Padfoot.” James nudges me awake, his voice urgent. “Don’t you remember?”
“Yes,” I say.
I do, and I don’t.
*
I think about going outside when James opens the window to let air into the room. I feel like we’ve been holed up for ages, not that I’m complaining.
James finds some of his dad’s sherry so we decide to sit up, drinking and playing poker for chocolate frogs.
“I got Dumbledore.” James grins and waves the card in my face. “I’ve been after him for ages.”
“Careful, or I’ll think I’ve got something to worry about.” I’m pissed and my words are heavy. It’s a stupid joke, but I don’t care. It seems funny when I say it, and James does me the courtesy of letting out a short bark of laughter.
“Idiot.” James snorts. “But I’ll let you off. Because you’re my idiot.”
“You’ve had too much sherry.” I point a finger at James, rolling onto my side. My stomach churns and I swallow back a wave of nausea because I definitely don’t want to throw up on the carpet.
“You’ve had too much sherry,” James corrects. He’s smiling, and I know he doesn’t really care. He ruffles my hair and laughs, and it’s like the room’s light for the first time in ages. “I’d say you’re going to be sick as a dog, but…”
“You can do better than that, J.” I push him onto the floor, and kiss him breathless until he’s yanking at my trousers and we’re rolling around and laughing as we exchange another clumsy kiss. “Steady, for fucks sake.”
“I’m doing my best. Not easy after all of the booze.”
James kisses me again, and I’m far too occupied with his lips to tell him his best is more than good enough for me.
*
There’s something out there, in the sky. The fog’s always there these days, and it rolls closer bringing a sense of rising hopelessness that nothing seems to shift.
It’s like the sun doesn’t shine anymore, and I’m so tired of staying awake I want to sleep again - just for a while.
“I’ve got to go, it’s time.” James stands and tugs on his jeans. He looks so young and I can almost believe I’m back in the Gryffindor common room, pretending not to watch James dress.
“Can’t you stay?” My voice is lazy with sleep and I yawn, reaching out a hand for James. “Come back to bed. I don’t want to sleep without you.”
Don’t go, James. Just stay a bit longer, where it’s warm and they’re not going to find us.
I want him to come back to bed. I want his arms around me and his eyes shining with laughter like he’s never heard a better joke. I reach for him again, but find nothing more than dust and shadows.
I’m sure it’s not night time yet, but when I look out of the window the sun’s gone out.
*
“Why did you leave?”
James comes back again, but this time he’s different. He’s ashen, and the air in our once cosy room tastes like death.
“I didn’t.” He looks sad, and he’s so cold it hurts to touch him. “I’m always here, you just need to remember.”
But I can’t, when the fog slides closer and the clouds are heavy with the coming storm. I can’t remember James, when my heart is heavy with anguish and my mouth tastes like rats and filth. I can’t remember James when the dark towers of-
Hogwarts.
Sunshine breaking through the clouds. Brooms twisting through the air and the memory of James laughing, as if he’s still alive.
He’s shouting, like there’s something to be mindful of - like there’s something I need to forget, or something I need to remember. I don’t know anymore. I trace my fingers over the walls and wonder why I never noticed they were made moss-covered stone. My fingertips come away damp and they smell like blood, and the sea.
Remember Brighton
I can almost see him again, not quite close enough to touch. He’s so fucking young and beautiful, it makes me want to turn myself inside out for him. The air around him is the only bit that’s still light and warm and I want to reach it but I can’t. My limbs are heavy with sleep and when I move it sounds like metal hitting stone.
James mouths words that look like remember, remember, remember and I strain to hear him over the wind and the howling of the sea. The fog descends and the window slams against the stone, until I’m not sure there’s anything between me and the sky anymore. I turn the hand James kissed, once, and wonder when I scratched my nails away to nothing.
If I concentrate really, really hard I can still see him - like he’s flesh and bone. I want to know if he’s as warm as I remember. I want to know if his kisses still taste like sherry and the ocean. I want to know if he-
Forgives me
Not that. Don’t think about that. Not when the fog’s close enough to suffocate.
“Padfoot?”
It sounds like a plea, but it’s all just whispers on the wind. I want to believe I can really see him, somewhere in the clouds. I want to pull him close to hold him one more time, but he’s so far away and the air is heavy with fog and tears.
I close my eyes and tell him I’d give anything. Anything at all.
I’d give my soul for one, last Kiss.
~Fin~