(Untitled)

[not_the_grim]

Countless times Sirius had read Rowling's books since he discovered them upon the rec room shelf in his first months on the island. He had known, in a dim and distant fashion, what Azakaban was, and then, through those accounts, gleaned an idea of the imprint it would leave upon him, body and soul

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[little_moons]

After the initial euphoria, the gratefulness, the awe at just having him back hear with us, after he heals, and it's no longer the weakness of having been out there so long without food that's slowing him down, I start to realize that a different person came home to us. The differences are subtle, but undeniable, and it leaves me off balance. It used to be so fuckin' easy, just being with him, predicting how he'd react, knowing what he thought, and now... Now I feel like there's this gap between us.

Or maybe I'm just imagining things.

Still, I sit down next to him like I always have, barely any space between us, and I think, suddenly, that he's a little more like the Sirius I knew before. Not exactly the same, not even close, but still... the similarities are there.

"Hey," I say, with a crooked smile, reaching up to touch a the shorter strands of his hair falling across his forehead. I'm still not used to that.

[not_the_grim]

Sirius tilts his head, goes briefly cross-eyed as he looks at Neil's fingers skimming through his hair. "My head still feels light," he says with a faint smile, poignant at the edges, and doesn't clarify that it isn't only the haircut's fault. Everything feels strange and surreal these days, not the least of which is himself.

"All right, then?" he asks, and curls thin fingers around Neil's wrist before he can pull his hand away. He's not talking about the haircut now, either.

[little_moons]

"'m still not used to it," I admit, and I'm not just talking about his fucking hair. Even though it was only a month, that was enough time to mourn him, the same way I might've if he'd been dead, and having him back here doesn't feel real. In an awful way, it's like talking with a ghost.

"Yeah, I'm good," I murmur, shifting my wrist out of his grip so that I can curl my fingers around his. We're good, I mean. Things aren't fucking perfect and they might never be, but they don't seem as hopeless as they did before.

"It makes you look older," I say with a smirk.

[not_the_grim]

Sirius feels older, so he reckons that's appropriate. The trouble is, he doesn't feel much wiser, just weary and used, as if the world chewed on him awhile and spat him back out.

"I have a grown godson now, I'm supposed to look more fatherly," he replies, and directs a wry smile at the way Neil's fingers are wrapped in his own.

[seek_to_end]

In the week and handful of days since receiving the first officially flight-worthy broom on the island, Harry had hardly been off of it. There were necessary moments of separation which he did not begrudge: when he needed to sleep, when he needed to eat, when Ron wanted a go, when Hermione needed to look it over for her work, when Harry needed to polish it. But on the whole, he had never been far from the contraption of beautifully designed wood and queer little metal bits.

Now was no different. Harry coasted down the beach towards his godfather, dragging his toes in the sand and sending up a glittering spray behind him, until he came to a stop a few feet away. "What are you looking at?" he asked, breathless and flushed from sun and exercise, too pleased with life to bother with standard greetings.

[not_the_grim]

For the space of a few seconds, it's James perched before him, tousled and proud and utterly carefree in the way that only he seemed capable of. Never in his life has Sirius understood how a person could be so casually pleased with his place in the world. For a long time he coveted that ease.

He blinks the sun from his eyes, though, and it's Harry's face peering down at him, breathless and bright with curiosity. "Well," Sirius slowly begins, and gives the sea a considering cant of his head. "It's quite a lot of water."

[seek_to_end]

In too good a mood even to be befuddled by that statement, Harry laughed without so much as a frown or pause and dismounted from his broom. Flipping the switch that turned off the hover motor, Harry took the last few strides to bring him to Sirius’ side and all but flopped down onto the sand beside him, shoulder brushing shoulder. “It is quite a lot of water,” he agreed with a firm nod. “You’re very right. Couldn’t have seen that without you.”

[not_the_grim]

"They did used to call me Sirius Observant Black in the old days," he says, pushing through the way his chest tightened when Harry dropped down beside him. The last thing he wants just now, or at any time with Harry really, is to get maudlin. There's just so much of James echoed in the details of his son. Sometimes Sirius wonders if Harry has any idea.

"You look well pleased with your broom," he adds, an easier topic. "Shaping up as well as you'd hoped, then?"

[dr_robchase]

Chase had been trying to keep an eye out for him, but the best intentions fell by the wayside of busy days -- at times. Daily check-ins became every other day and now he's down to twice a week. He felt bad for it, but it couldn't be avoided, not when he had work to do.

Still, he made sure to clear his schedule for the days he did check after Sirius. It took a while to find him and once he did, he lingered awkwardly to the side, holding out a small loaf. "I found this in the kitchen," he offers, having been picking at it. "I think it's banana or apple-spice or something."

[not_the_grim]

They all do this, when they're worried. How often someone offers him food or asks if he's eaten is a fairly good barometer for their level of concern for his person. James was one of the few people Sirius was close to who never did; Sirius had never sorted whether James simply knew better, or was too wrapped up in himself to notice.

His gaze flicks from the loaf to Rob's face and lingers there. In the end, it's easier to accept the offer with a nod of thanks, to pluck a bit of bread between his long fingers and let Rob see him eat it. Sirius brushes crumbs from his fingers and the corners of his mouth and gazes seaward.

"If you set an appointment, I'd come to it," he says, and then glances back to the blond. This is at least half true; he'd try.

[dr_robchase]

What Sirius didn't eat, Chase kept picking at. He felt like he didn't sit down to eat often enough these days and part of it was worry and part of it was just being busy. "I don't want to actually set an appointment, that makes it sound -- it makes it sound official," he admitted. "And while I'm worried about you in a professional sense, I'm more worried about you as a friend." Chase didn't know how, but there were certain people who burrowed their way under his skin and stayed.

Jane, Sirius, House, the Doctor. He doubted he'd ever forget them. "What's up?" he asked, feigning a casual tone -- badly.

[not_the_grim]

"Are we friends, Rob?" Sirius asks, completely open, not a hint of judgment in his expression. At this point, he isn't certain what he'd call the relationship between the two of them. A hybrid of outmoded expectations, disappointments and an awkward sense of obligation, it never seems to settle, never seems to quite fit.

[useabezoar]

Now, make no mistake, Snape still hated the out-of-doors on the island. It wasn't the out-of-doors in general that he hated; he took no issue with the much cooler, more reasonable weather back at Hogwarts. But on the island, it was hot and sticky and he had no clothing appropriate for the tropical climate. But sometimes, the compound got to be too much, too quickly, and he needed the respite.

He was only paying marginal attention to his surroundings as he walked towards the beach. Snape stepped gingerly around driftwood and seaweed and particularly pointy looking shells before coming to a halt a safe distance off from the water itself. He didn't notice that there was anyone else around; in fact, he found the whole place rather peaceful just because he thought he was alone.

[not_the_grim]

Years it's been since Sirius last laid eyes on Severus Snape. Not since he left Hogwarts, as a matter of fact, which makes it all the more disconcerting that Sirius instantly recognises the disgruntled slope of shoulders beneath a tangle of predictably greasy hair

[useabezoar]

At the sound of the other man's voice -- an all too familiar voice, a voice that was the source of some of his worst memories for years and years -- Snape whipped around. He stared hard at Sirius Black, sitting nonchalantly underneath a tree.

Oh, he'd known Black was here, and then gone, and then here again, but he'd counted himself exceedingly lucky that he hadn't had to encounter the sorry excuse for a man.

"It was almost too good to be true," he said, trademark sneer curling across his face, "hearing you were gone. Pity, the island seems to have spit you back out, Black."

[not_the_grim]

Snape has the truth of it, there; Sirius does feel as if he'd been half-swallowed and then spat back out, weary and used. The aptness rankles a bit, but he shrugs it off with an exaggerated roll of one bony shoulder.

"Well, I heard you'd be here and couldn't stand to miss it," he replies. "I've not any greasy traitors in my life at the moment, and I reckon you count for at least two or three."

[yeah_wow_lovely]

There's a necklace wrapped round her finger when she finds him. The cord is long and delicate looking, the leather so thin that it seems it could snap at any moment, but no matter how sharply she pulls, it holds. She'd meant to knot it into something clever, something beautiful, but now, gazing at the back of the man for whom it's intended, Cassie thinks she might go with something simpler. A shell at the end perhaps, edges worn by the endless roll of sea and sand and polished bright.

It's strange, she thinks, that she hadn't thought something simple could be beautiful before, but perhaps that's because she never had it. "Sirius," she calls softly, and tucks the necklace back into her pocket. She thinks sometimes that he prefers it out here now, out where he can hear the waves, thinks that, after a month of only them to listen to, he might feel lonely without them. "Where are you?"

[not_the_grim]

"I'm here," he says, instantly, and it isn't until he tips his head back and draws Cassie into view that he understands what she'd meant. What little he's got these days, he gives to her and to Harry, but being present hasn't been his strong suit since he left that cage out in the ocean.

"I'm here," he repeats, and reaches a skinny arm imploringly Cassie's way with a subdued smile. "I've not left yet. Come give me a kiss and put my feet back on the ground."

[yeah_wow_lovely]

Cassie comes, kissing his fingertips, and drops down behind him, her own arms wrapped round his chest and face pressed against his shoulder. "There," she says, breathing him in, a habit she can't seem to stop. She'd burnt everything they owned together, hadn't kept even a shirt, and though she doesn't regret it, Cassie never wants to forget what it feels like to be pressed so near, the scent of his skin warm and comfortable.

"I'll keep you," she says, reaching down to spill new sand over his bare feet. "You're mine for a while longer."

[not_the_grim]

"As long as you'll have me," Sirius agrees, his fingers trailing in her golden, flyaway hair. "Someday you'll meet someone terribly dashing and not at all moody and who doesn't steal the blankets, and you'll be done with me," he teases, and presses a warm kiss to her temple. "But until then, I'll take as much of you as I can get."