fic: The Ninth Beatitude (Remus/Sirius)
Title: The Ninth Beatitude
Author: victoria p. [victoria @ unfitforsociety.net]
Summary: "If he wants to do something nice for me, then maybe he should ask me what I want."
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to JK Rowling and Scholastic/Bloomsbury etc.; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
Archive: Lists, Achromatic.
Feedback: is always welcome and more appreciated than you know.
Notes: Thanks to mousapelli and romanticalgirl for the beta.
Word count: 1,785
Date: June 26, 2005
~*~
The Ninth Beatitude
'Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed,' was the ninth beatitude. ~Alexander Pope
*
James and Sirius were on the sofa in the common room when Remus entered, heads bent together over some plan or other. Remus thought he might be able to sneak by and get upstairs to study, but Sirius looked up and grinned.
"Oi, Lupin, come here," he said, waving, and with a heavy sigh, Remus trudged over and sat down in the chair across from them.
"I really have to start this Charms essay--" he began, but Sirius cut him off.
"We're making plans for your birthday party, Moony. It's our last year, we should make it spectacular."
Remus frowned, cursing himself for not remembering the date and heading this off earlier. "That's okay," he said, "I don't really need a party. It's going to be right after the full moon and--"
"Three days," Sirius corrected. "It's three days after the full moon, and you need a bit of fun. Spending too much time revising for NEWTs and not enough time with your friends."
"It's going to be brilliant," James chimed in; the firelight flickering off his glasses gave him a bit of a maniacal air. "We've got the firewhisky already, and Peter will make sure there are pastries and a cake. Evans -- Lily," and here James blushed, still incredulous that she was finally his girlfriend, after so many long years of fruitless pursuit, "has a charmed record player, so we'll have that Muggle music you like, wossname, the Clap."
"The Clash," Remus said, more sharply than he intended. "They're called The Clash." He took a deep breath. "Look, I don't-- I mean, I really appreciate what you're doing, but I don't really want a birthday party I--"
"Don't want a birthday party?" Sirius said incredulously. "Stop talking rubbish, Remus. It'll be the dog's bollocks. Everyone will be there."
And Remus knew he was right -- Sirius and James would put the word out, and everyone over the age of thirteen in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff would show up, as well as three-quarters of Ravenclaw and a handful of rebellious Slytherins who didn't mind associating with the other houses. They'd come because James and Sirius were still the coolest blokes in school, and they'd drink and dance and not even know who Remus was, let alone that it was his birthday. He hated that.
"You can still have a party," he said, rising from the chair. "Just-- not for my birthday."
"We thought you'd want--" Sirius started, but Remus wasn't having with that.
"Well, I don't." He shouldered his satchel and left them staring at each other, both wearing puzzled frowns.
Sirius caught up with him at the door to the dormitory.
"You know what your problem is?" Sirius said, his voice low and angry, for once completely devoid of teasing. "You never give anything a chance."
"Never expect anything, and you'll never be disappointed," Remus replied, fighting to keep his tone light even as his body responded to Sirius's nearness. He'd learned the hard way that hope was just the precursor to despair. Now he kept his expectations low -- the next prank, the next essay, the next trip to Hogsmeade. He'd known since his career counseling session with McGonagall in fifth year that his future after Hogwarts was bleak, and as it drew closer, he'd begun feeling its inexorable shadow over even the few things that had been untouched by his condition.
"And you'll never have the chance to be surprised," Sirius said. His eyes were dark, intense, and Remus couldn't look away, even though he wanted to. He looked at Sirius and saw Padfoot, and so couldn't say that most of the surprises in his life hadn't been happy ones, even though it was true. "You make yourself so small, so closed off," Sirius continued, shaking his head, "that not even the good things can get in."
He walked away before Remus could respond, secure in the knowledge that he was right. Because, of course, he was. It was a nasty habit Sirius had.
*
James cornered him that night just before the prefects' meeting.
"Pillock," he said without preamble. Remus raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Sirius just wants to do something nice for you."
"Sirius," Remus said before James was even finished, "just wants to have a party. It has nothing to do with me, or my birthday. I am an excuse. If he wants to do something nice for me, then maybe he should ask me what I want."
James looked as serious as Remus had ever seen him. "Why? It's not like you'd tell him if he did."
Other people began filing into the room before Remus could respond, and he found himself distracted through the whole meeting.
It really wasn't fair, he thought, that people like James and Sirius, people who had everything, and if they didn't, they could buy it, or have it handed to them, should judge him because he didn't and he couldn't. They could ask because they never had to; he would never ask because he'd spend his whole life asking, and the answer would always be no.
*
"I didn't think you'd object to cake," Peter said, setting the cake down on the table and dropping into the chair opposite Remus.
Remus looked up and smiled. "Thank you, Peter. I appreciate it, truly. Please don't sing," he said when James opened his mouth. "Please." James laughed and buried his face in Lily's hair. She was curled up next to him on the couch, and he wore a slightly dazed, distracted look.
"You should blow the candles out before wax drips on the cake," Lily said. Some of the other kids looked over, but nobody joined them. Remus felt a vicious sense of vindication. He'd been right. Nobody cared.
Not even Sirius, apparently. Remus looked toward the door again, but Sirius had yet to put in an appearance. He'd been sulky for a bit after their conversation about the party, but he'd got over it, as far as Remus could tell. The party plans had been abandoned, and though Remus was secretly a little resentful about that, he didn't show it. He hated feeling that way, because sometimes it felt like no matter what his friends did, it would never be the right thing. Sometimes he thought he just had no ability to be happy, and it wasn't their fault that their efforts were doomed to fail. And sometimes he thought he knew exactly what would make him happy, but he could never have it, so why bother to try?
"Make a wish," Lily said and Remus closed his eyes and blew.
When he opened them, Sirius was still absent. He was tempted to ask, if only because he knew the answer would hurt, but he didn't, even though he thought he might deserve that extra bit of punishment.
James answered anyway. "You didn't want what he had to give."
There were so many ways to respond to that, so many things wrong about it, that Remus didn't know where to begin; the words rose in his throat and choked him. All he managed was a pithy, "Fuck off." It was safer, in the end, than telling James what he really wanted from Sirius, which Sirius would never be able to give.
*
James had told him he didn't have to patrol, since it was his birthday, but Remus had always liked prowling the corridors of Hogwarts when everyone else was asleep -- in that, at least, he was no different from Sirius and James -- and the thrill hadn't gone out of it in seven years, even when it was with official approval.
He'd shooed a pair of snogging Hufflepuffs off to their rooms and hid behind the statue of Eglantine the Egregious out of habit when he heard Filch coming, but other than that, it was quiet.
On his way back to Gryffindor Tower, he stopped to stare out the window at the end of the corridor. It was a clear night, though the glass distorted everything just a little, making the stars seem bigger and brighter, the way they'd been in the watercolor paintings he'd done of the sky as a child. He caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye, and whirled, wand at the ready. The silvery material of James's invisibility cloak swirled around Sirius's body and puddled to the floor as he stepped toward Remus. Remus turned back to the window, Sirius's reflection dark behind him. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.
"You missed cake," he said.
"Did I?"
Remus kept his mouth shut.
"I thought you might not want me there," Sirius said.
"As if that would have stopped you if you'd wanted to be there."
"As if you know anything about what I want." Sirius took another step forward, so close that Remus could feel the heat of his body. A shiver of desire shimmied through him, but he held onto his anger with both hands, not caring that he sounded as petulant as Sirius on his worst days.
"I would never claim to understand the mind of the great Sirius Black."
"Berk. I don't want to fight."
"What do you want, then?" The words were out before Remus could stop them, and he silently cursed himself for it.
Sirius's hand landed heavy and warm on his shoulder, long fingers sneaking beneath his collar to curl against his clavicle and steal the breath from his lungs.
"The Quidditch Cup. A flying motorbike. A beach house on Tahiti, with half-naked dancing girls to bring me drinks." Remus smiled despite himself at that, and then shivered again as Sirius leaned closer, warm breath ghosting over Remus's ear as he whispered, "You."
Remus couldn't see Sirius's face in the window, and thought he must be taking the piss. He stood for an eternal moment, unable to move. Sirius sighed, stirring the hair on Remus's neck, and shifted. Remus's heart stopped and then lurched to life at top speed. Before Sirius could move away, he turned -- awkwardly, because they were so close -- and came nose to nose with Sirius.
Sirius's face was nearly impossible to read in the flickering candlelight, but there was no mistaking the heat of his mouth pressed to Remus's.
"Let me in," he whispered against Remus's lips, and Remus did. Sirius pushed him against the cool glass, hands tangling in his hair, and Remus discovered his ability to be happy seemed to be hiding somewhere in Sirius's mouth.
Sirius broke the kiss and laughed breathlessly, his lips red and wet and swollen, the picture of temptation. "Expect great things from me, Remus," he said, smiling, "and you'll never be disappointed."
For a moment, Remus allowed himself to hope.
end
~*~
Feedback is adored.
*
Author: victoria p. [victoria @ unfitforsociety.net]
Summary: "If he wants to do something nice for me, then maybe he should ask me what I want."
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to JK Rowling and Scholastic/Bloomsbury etc.; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
Archive: Lists, Achromatic.
Feedback: is always welcome and more appreciated than you know.
Notes: Thanks to mousapelli and romanticalgirl for the beta.
Word count: 1,785
Date: June 26, 2005
~*~
The Ninth Beatitude
'Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed,' was the ninth beatitude. ~Alexander Pope
*
James and Sirius were on the sofa in the common room when Remus entered, heads bent together over some plan or other. Remus thought he might be able to sneak by and get upstairs to study, but Sirius looked up and grinned.
"Oi, Lupin, come here," he said, waving, and with a heavy sigh, Remus trudged over and sat down in the chair across from them.
"I really have to start this Charms essay--" he began, but Sirius cut him off.
"We're making plans for your birthday party, Moony. It's our last year, we should make it spectacular."
Remus frowned, cursing himself for not remembering the date and heading this off earlier. "That's okay," he said, "I don't really need a party. It's going to be right after the full moon and--"
"Three days," Sirius corrected. "It's three days after the full moon, and you need a bit of fun. Spending too much time revising for NEWTs and not enough time with your friends."
"It's going to be brilliant," James chimed in; the firelight flickering off his glasses gave him a bit of a maniacal air. "We've got the firewhisky already, and Peter will make sure there are pastries and a cake. Evans -- Lily," and here James blushed, still incredulous that she was finally his girlfriend, after so many long years of fruitless pursuit, "has a charmed record player, so we'll have that Muggle music you like, wossname, the Clap."
"The Clash," Remus said, more sharply than he intended. "They're called The Clash." He took a deep breath. "Look, I don't-- I mean, I really appreciate what you're doing, but I don't really want a birthday party I--"
"Don't want a birthday party?" Sirius said incredulously. "Stop talking rubbish, Remus. It'll be the dog's bollocks. Everyone will be there."
And Remus knew he was right -- Sirius and James would put the word out, and everyone over the age of thirteen in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff would show up, as well as three-quarters of Ravenclaw and a handful of rebellious Slytherins who didn't mind associating with the other houses. They'd come because James and Sirius were still the coolest blokes in school, and they'd drink and dance and not even know who Remus was, let alone that it was his birthday. He hated that.
"You can still have a party," he said, rising from the chair. "Just-- not for my birthday."
"We thought you'd want--" Sirius started, but Remus wasn't having with that.
"Well, I don't." He shouldered his satchel and left them staring at each other, both wearing puzzled frowns.
Sirius caught up with him at the door to the dormitory.
"You know what your problem is?" Sirius said, his voice low and angry, for once completely devoid of teasing. "You never give anything a chance."
"Never expect anything, and you'll never be disappointed," Remus replied, fighting to keep his tone light even as his body responded to Sirius's nearness. He'd learned the hard way that hope was just the precursor to despair. Now he kept his expectations low -- the next prank, the next essay, the next trip to Hogsmeade. He'd known since his career counseling session with McGonagall in fifth year that his future after Hogwarts was bleak, and as it drew closer, he'd begun feeling its inexorable shadow over even the few things that had been untouched by his condition.
"And you'll never have the chance to be surprised," Sirius said. His eyes were dark, intense, and Remus couldn't look away, even though he wanted to. He looked at Sirius and saw Padfoot, and so couldn't say that most of the surprises in his life hadn't been happy ones, even though it was true. "You make yourself so small, so closed off," Sirius continued, shaking his head, "that not even the good things can get in."
He walked away before Remus could respond, secure in the knowledge that he was right. Because, of course, he was. It was a nasty habit Sirius had.
*
James cornered him that night just before the prefects' meeting.
"Pillock," he said without preamble. Remus raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Sirius just wants to do something nice for you."
"Sirius," Remus said before James was even finished, "just wants to have a party. It has nothing to do with me, or my birthday. I am an excuse. If he wants to do something nice for me, then maybe he should ask me what I want."
James looked as serious as Remus had ever seen him. "Why? It's not like you'd tell him if he did."
Other people began filing into the room before Remus could respond, and he found himself distracted through the whole meeting.
It really wasn't fair, he thought, that people like James and Sirius, people who had everything, and if they didn't, they could buy it, or have it handed to them, should judge him because he didn't and he couldn't. They could ask because they never had to; he would never ask because he'd spend his whole life asking, and the answer would always be no.
*
"I didn't think you'd object to cake," Peter said, setting the cake down on the table and dropping into the chair opposite Remus.
Remus looked up and smiled. "Thank you, Peter. I appreciate it, truly. Please don't sing," he said when James opened his mouth. "Please." James laughed and buried his face in Lily's hair. She was curled up next to him on the couch, and he wore a slightly dazed, distracted look.
"You should blow the candles out before wax drips on the cake," Lily said. Some of the other kids looked over, but nobody joined them. Remus felt a vicious sense of vindication. He'd been right. Nobody cared.
Not even Sirius, apparently. Remus looked toward the door again, but Sirius had yet to put in an appearance. He'd been sulky for a bit after their conversation about the party, but he'd got over it, as far as Remus could tell. The party plans had been abandoned, and though Remus was secretly a little resentful about that, he didn't show it. He hated feeling that way, because sometimes it felt like no matter what his friends did, it would never be the right thing. Sometimes he thought he just had no ability to be happy, and it wasn't their fault that their efforts were doomed to fail. And sometimes he thought he knew exactly what would make him happy, but he could never have it, so why bother to try?
"Make a wish," Lily said and Remus closed his eyes and blew.
When he opened them, Sirius was still absent. He was tempted to ask, if only because he knew the answer would hurt, but he didn't, even though he thought he might deserve that extra bit of punishment.
James answered anyway. "You didn't want what he had to give."
There were so many ways to respond to that, so many things wrong about it, that Remus didn't know where to begin; the words rose in his throat and choked him. All he managed was a pithy, "Fuck off." It was safer, in the end, than telling James what he really wanted from Sirius, which Sirius would never be able to give.
*
James had told him he didn't have to patrol, since it was his birthday, but Remus had always liked prowling the corridors of Hogwarts when everyone else was asleep -- in that, at least, he was no different from Sirius and James -- and the thrill hadn't gone out of it in seven years, even when it was with official approval.
He'd shooed a pair of snogging Hufflepuffs off to their rooms and hid behind the statue of Eglantine the Egregious out of habit when he heard Filch coming, but other than that, it was quiet.
On his way back to Gryffindor Tower, he stopped to stare out the window at the end of the corridor. It was a clear night, though the glass distorted everything just a little, making the stars seem bigger and brighter, the way they'd been in the watercolor paintings he'd done of the sky as a child. He caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye, and whirled, wand at the ready. The silvery material of James's invisibility cloak swirled around Sirius's body and puddled to the floor as he stepped toward Remus. Remus turned back to the window, Sirius's reflection dark behind him. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.
"You missed cake," he said.
"Did I?"
Remus kept his mouth shut.
"I thought you might not want me there," Sirius said.
"As if that would have stopped you if you'd wanted to be there."
"As if you know anything about what I want." Sirius took another step forward, so close that Remus could feel the heat of his body. A shiver of desire shimmied through him, but he held onto his anger with both hands, not caring that he sounded as petulant as Sirius on his worst days.
"I would never claim to understand the mind of the great Sirius Black."
"Berk. I don't want to fight."
"What do you want, then?" The words were out before Remus could stop them, and he silently cursed himself for it.
Sirius's hand landed heavy and warm on his shoulder, long fingers sneaking beneath his collar to curl against his clavicle and steal the breath from his lungs.
"The Quidditch Cup. A flying motorbike. A beach house on Tahiti, with half-naked dancing girls to bring me drinks." Remus smiled despite himself at that, and then shivered again as Sirius leaned closer, warm breath ghosting over Remus's ear as he whispered, "You."
Remus couldn't see Sirius's face in the window, and thought he must be taking the piss. He stood for an eternal moment, unable to move. Sirius sighed, stirring the hair on Remus's neck, and shifted. Remus's heart stopped and then lurched to life at top speed. Before Sirius could move away, he turned -- awkwardly, because they were so close -- and came nose to nose with Sirius.
Sirius's face was nearly impossible to read in the flickering candlelight, but there was no mistaking the heat of his mouth pressed to Remus's.
"Let me in," he whispered against Remus's lips, and Remus did. Sirius pushed him against the cool glass, hands tangling in his hair, and Remus discovered his ability to be happy seemed to be hiding somewhere in Sirius's mouth.
Sirius broke the kiss and laughed breathlessly, his lips red and wet and swollen, the picture of temptation. "Expect great things from me, Remus," he said, smiling, "and you'll never be disappointed."
For a moment, Remus allowed himself to hope.
end
~*~
Feedback is adored.
*