FIC: Christmas Reading for sostrata
Title: Christmas Reading
Author: lupinslittlesis
Written for: sostrata
Rating: G
Prompt: spending time with Harry, motorbike
Summary: Christmas Eve at Grimmauld Place
Any other notes, warnings, etc.: Thanks to velvetmouse for the beta!
Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was not where Sirius would have chosen to spend Christmas. Dust, grime, and bad memories generally didn't put one in the holiday spirit. But because Harry needed him (not because Dumbledore ordered it, thank you) he'd stay here, haunting the long halls like the ghost he sometimes felt he was.
"Sirius?"
He turned to see Remus coming out of Regulus's old room- the room Remus ostensibly occupied. "What are you doing in there?" he asked.
Remus winked at him. "Shouldn't ask such questions at Christmas time, Padfoot. Did you want to see that set of books I picked up for Harry?"
Sirius brightened considerably. "Yeah, definitely. Bring them on in." He walked back into the bedroom and sat on the bed. Remus lugged a heavy bag in, and settled down beside him. Sirius reached for the books eagerly.
"They're nice," he said, well-pleased with the leather covers and the color illustrations. He flipped through them, skimming passages that struck him as clear and appropriately detailed. Each spell was organized into its own section, with orderly discussions on the history, the theory, the method, expected results, and potential drawbacks.
"Is it what you wanted?" Remus asked anxiously.
"Better than I thought it would be," Sirius admitted. "Why don't they use these at Hogwarts?"
"Expense, I'm sure," Remus sighed. "Can't really be asking students to spend that many Galleons on textbooks."
"Unless you're Gilderoy Lockheart," Sirius muttered, smirking. "Did you approve, Professor Lupin?"
"Very much. Ashwinder is an excellent author, and I think Harry will really enjoy these."
"You don't think it's too… stodgy?" Sirius asked anxiously. "Godfathers should be giving the fun presents, not books and robes. But…." He trailed off.
"It is practical," Remus agreed. "Especially with Voldemort's return. But Harry always genuinely enjoyed Defense Against the Dark Arts, as far as I can tell. If you'd given him books on Transfiguration or Charms, it would be too boring. But Defense is different. Just because a book isn't fiction doesn't mean it's boring."
"True enough," Sirius agreed, running his finger along the spine.
"And that's why I picked up this," Remus said, handing Sirius a package wrapped in brown paper. "It's not a Christmas gift," he said, "so you can open it now."
"If it's not a Christmas gift, what's it for?" Sirius asked, even as he tore into the package. But he didn't need an answer, not as he took in the paperback book with the motorcycle on the cover.
"They've developed a lot in thirteen years," Remus said softly. "One day you'll get it back, or get a new one. You should be prepared."
Sirius couldn't quite look at Remus. "Thank you," he said, his voice breaking. He tried to cover it by opening the book, but Remus wasn't fooled. He leaned in, his breath warm on Sirius's cheek and followed by the soft touch of dry, chapped lips.
"You're welcome."
***
Once, fifteen years ago, Sirius had dreamed about Christmases where he'd take Harry out for snowball fights and sledding and too much hot chocolate and too many biscuits, and bring him back to a mock-furious Lily loaded down with completely inappropriate and expensive gifts. And then there would be Christmas morning, with stockings and laughter and rumpled hair, three families gathered round a Christmas tree… he bit his lip hard, because that line of thought took him to Peter, and he didn't want to go there tonight. He opened the book that Remus had given him a few nights before, but the words swam before his eyes.
"Are you all right, Sirius?" Harry asked, setting a mug of eggnog down next to him. Sirius blinked at it suspiciously.
"Fine, thanks Harry," he said, because he couldn't burden Harry with any of that.
"It's Christmas Eve," Harry said, the words strangely incongruous with the parlor that they sat in.
"So it is." Sirius sighed. "What do you usually do on Christmas Eve?" he asked.
Harry shrugged. "Stay at Hogwarts, usually. Did you?"
"Not often. I would have liked to, but my parents usually expected me home." Sirius snorted at the memory. "Christmas is actually a very social holiday for some people, I suppose. There was always something we were supposed to do."
Harry nodded, looking like he didn't know what to say. Not that Sirius really blamed him. He didn't really know what to say, either.
After a long time, Harry asked, "What would you do if you could do anything for Christmas Eve?"
Go shopping in Diagon Alley. Meet up with you and Remus for hot chocolate, and then find the Weasleys and have a party, bring them a goose like Scrooge brought to the Cratchetts. Go to midnight mass and sing hymns by candlelight. Walk home in the snow, with one arm around your shoulders and the other around Remus's waist. Stay up until you'd gone asleep and put out presents, even though I know perfectly well you're far too old for Father Christmas. Walk the halls because I'm too excited to sleep, and eventually curl up by the tree.
"Don't know. What about you?"
Harry shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Something like this, I guess."
There was a tree in the corner, a tree they'd all put up this morning and sparkling with colored fairy lights. The colors reflected off Harry's glasses and lit the side of his face. Sirius wished he could hold this moment forever.
"What are you reading?" Harry asked, pointing to the book.
"Oh. Oh! Remus got it for me." Sirius held the book up so Harry could see the cover. "Book about motorcycles."
Harry smiled. "I used to dream about a flying motorcycle," he said. "Guess it wasn't a dream so much, was it?"
That pleased Sirius greatly. "No. I used to take you out flying all the time. Your mum pretended to mind, but she didn't. Not really. I think your dad was more scared."
Harry nodded, and slumped down the seat to sit on the floor, hugging his knees to him. "Uncle Vernon hates motorcycles," he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Sirius laughed. "Well, maybe we can get you one in a few years, when you're done at Hogwarts. Really piss him off."
"Yeah. That would be fun."
"What would be fun?" Remus was standing at the doorway, a thin book in one hand and a steaming mug in the other.
"Random family rebellion," Sirius said.
"That does sound like your idea of fun," Remus said with a grin, sitting down on the other end of the couch that Sirius was sitting on. "By the way, your mother is in quite the holiday spirit downstairs."
Sirius's snort was as an eloquent a response as Remus was going to get. "What do you have there?" Sirius asked, pointing at the book.
"The Night Before Christmas," Remus said, and both Harry and Sirius groaned.
"We're not six years old, Remus," Sirius said.
"Uncle Vernon used to read it," Harry added, making a face. "Dudley loved it."
"A great case for book burning if I ever heard one," Sirius said, nodding.
Remus put the book aside. "Fine," he sniffed. "Then I suppose neither of you want these biscuits I brought up, either."
"Biscuits are another category altogether," Sirius pointed out reasonably, as Remus set the plate down. Harry agreed, and fortunately, Remus seemed to forget his fit of pique. The three of them sat comfortably, munching until the plate was empty. Harry excused himself not long after, obviously exhausted.
"How's he doing?" Remus asked as Harry left. He scooted closer to Sirius on the couch.
"All right, I guess." There had been something off, but Sirius couldn't put his finger on it. Not that he really needed to wonder about it, given the close call that Arthur Weasley had had. Sirius didn't like to think about how it would affect Harry to lose any of the Weasely family. "How are you?"
"I'm fine."
"Really?"
Remus smiled humorlessly. "Let's be honest. None of the three of us are truly fine. But for tonight… I'm here with you and it's almost Christmas. I can be fine tonight."
Sirius wrapped an arm around Remus's shoulders and pulled him close. Remus sighed and rearranged his limbs so he was stretched out across the couch. The changing lights colored his skin, and the scent of pine and cinnamon made Sirius relax completely. He awkwardly bent over and picked up the book Remus had dropped. Remus smiled. "You could always read it to me," he murmured.
"That's what I was thinking, too," Sirius said. He opened the book. "'Twas the night before Christmas…"
Author: lupinslittlesis
Written for: sostrata
Rating: G
Prompt: spending time with Harry, motorbike
Summary: Christmas Eve at Grimmauld Place
Any other notes, warnings, etc.: Thanks to velvetmouse for the beta!
Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was not where Sirius would have chosen to spend Christmas. Dust, grime, and bad memories generally didn't put one in the holiday spirit. But because Harry needed him (not because Dumbledore ordered it, thank you) he'd stay here, haunting the long halls like the ghost he sometimes felt he was.
"Sirius?"
He turned to see Remus coming out of Regulus's old room- the room Remus ostensibly occupied. "What are you doing in there?" he asked.
Remus winked at him. "Shouldn't ask such questions at Christmas time, Padfoot. Did you want to see that set of books I picked up for Harry?"
Sirius brightened considerably. "Yeah, definitely. Bring them on in." He walked back into the bedroom and sat on the bed. Remus lugged a heavy bag in, and settled down beside him. Sirius reached for the books eagerly.
"They're nice," he said, well-pleased with the leather covers and the color illustrations. He flipped through them, skimming passages that struck him as clear and appropriately detailed. Each spell was organized into its own section, with orderly discussions on the history, the theory, the method, expected results, and potential drawbacks.
"Is it what you wanted?" Remus asked anxiously.
"Better than I thought it would be," Sirius admitted. "Why don't they use these at Hogwarts?"
"Expense, I'm sure," Remus sighed. "Can't really be asking students to spend that many Galleons on textbooks."
"Unless you're Gilderoy Lockheart," Sirius muttered, smirking. "Did you approve, Professor Lupin?"
"Very much. Ashwinder is an excellent author, and I think Harry will really enjoy these."
"You don't think it's too… stodgy?" Sirius asked anxiously. "Godfathers should be giving the fun presents, not books and robes. But…." He trailed off.
"It is practical," Remus agreed. "Especially with Voldemort's return. But Harry always genuinely enjoyed Defense Against the Dark Arts, as far as I can tell. If you'd given him books on Transfiguration or Charms, it would be too boring. But Defense is different. Just because a book isn't fiction doesn't mean it's boring."
"True enough," Sirius agreed, running his finger along the spine.
"And that's why I picked up this," Remus said, handing Sirius a package wrapped in brown paper. "It's not a Christmas gift," he said, "so you can open it now."
"If it's not a Christmas gift, what's it for?" Sirius asked, even as he tore into the package. But he didn't need an answer, not as he took in the paperback book with the motorcycle on the cover.
"They've developed a lot in thirteen years," Remus said softly. "One day you'll get it back, or get a new one. You should be prepared."
Sirius couldn't quite look at Remus. "Thank you," he said, his voice breaking. He tried to cover it by opening the book, but Remus wasn't fooled. He leaned in, his breath warm on Sirius's cheek and followed by the soft touch of dry, chapped lips.
"You're welcome."
***
Once, fifteen years ago, Sirius had dreamed about Christmases where he'd take Harry out for snowball fights and sledding and too much hot chocolate and too many biscuits, and bring him back to a mock-furious Lily loaded down with completely inappropriate and expensive gifts. And then there would be Christmas morning, with stockings and laughter and rumpled hair, three families gathered round a Christmas tree… he bit his lip hard, because that line of thought took him to Peter, and he didn't want to go there tonight. He opened the book that Remus had given him a few nights before, but the words swam before his eyes.
"Are you all right, Sirius?" Harry asked, setting a mug of eggnog down next to him. Sirius blinked at it suspiciously.
"Fine, thanks Harry," he said, because he couldn't burden Harry with any of that.
"It's Christmas Eve," Harry said, the words strangely incongruous with the parlor that they sat in.
"So it is." Sirius sighed. "What do you usually do on Christmas Eve?" he asked.
Harry shrugged. "Stay at Hogwarts, usually. Did you?"
"Not often. I would have liked to, but my parents usually expected me home." Sirius snorted at the memory. "Christmas is actually a very social holiday for some people, I suppose. There was always something we were supposed to do."
Harry nodded, looking like he didn't know what to say. Not that Sirius really blamed him. He didn't really know what to say, either.
After a long time, Harry asked, "What would you do if you could do anything for Christmas Eve?"
Go shopping in Diagon Alley. Meet up with you and Remus for hot chocolate, and then find the Weasleys and have a party, bring them a goose like Scrooge brought to the Cratchetts. Go to midnight mass and sing hymns by candlelight. Walk home in the snow, with one arm around your shoulders and the other around Remus's waist. Stay up until you'd gone asleep and put out presents, even though I know perfectly well you're far too old for Father Christmas. Walk the halls because I'm too excited to sleep, and eventually curl up by the tree.
"Don't know. What about you?"
Harry shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Something like this, I guess."
There was a tree in the corner, a tree they'd all put up this morning and sparkling with colored fairy lights. The colors reflected off Harry's glasses and lit the side of his face. Sirius wished he could hold this moment forever.
"What are you reading?" Harry asked, pointing to the book.
"Oh. Oh! Remus got it for me." Sirius held the book up so Harry could see the cover. "Book about motorcycles."
Harry smiled. "I used to dream about a flying motorcycle," he said. "Guess it wasn't a dream so much, was it?"
That pleased Sirius greatly. "No. I used to take you out flying all the time. Your mum pretended to mind, but she didn't. Not really. I think your dad was more scared."
Harry nodded, and slumped down the seat to sit on the floor, hugging his knees to him. "Uncle Vernon hates motorcycles," he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Sirius laughed. "Well, maybe we can get you one in a few years, when you're done at Hogwarts. Really piss him off."
"Yeah. That would be fun."
"What would be fun?" Remus was standing at the doorway, a thin book in one hand and a steaming mug in the other.
"Random family rebellion," Sirius said.
"That does sound like your idea of fun," Remus said with a grin, sitting down on the other end of the couch that Sirius was sitting on. "By the way, your mother is in quite the holiday spirit downstairs."
Sirius's snort was as an eloquent a response as Remus was going to get. "What do you have there?" Sirius asked, pointing at the book.
"The Night Before Christmas," Remus said, and both Harry and Sirius groaned.
"We're not six years old, Remus," Sirius said.
"Uncle Vernon used to read it," Harry added, making a face. "Dudley loved it."
"A great case for book burning if I ever heard one," Sirius said, nodding.
Remus put the book aside. "Fine," he sniffed. "Then I suppose neither of you want these biscuits I brought up, either."
"Biscuits are another category altogether," Sirius pointed out reasonably, as Remus set the plate down. Harry agreed, and fortunately, Remus seemed to forget his fit of pique. The three of them sat comfortably, munching until the plate was empty. Harry excused himself not long after, obviously exhausted.
"How's he doing?" Remus asked as Harry left. He scooted closer to Sirius on the couch.
"All right, I guess." There had been something off, but Sirius couldn't put his finger on it. Not that he really needed to wonder about it, given the close call that Arthur Weasley had had. Sirius didn't like to think about how it would affect Harry to lose any of the Weasely family. "How are you?"
"I'm fine."
"Really?"
Remus smiled humorlessly. "Let's be honest. None of the three of us are truly fine. But for tonight… I'm here with you and it's almost Christmas. I can be fine tonight."
Sirius wrapped an arm around Remus's shoulders and pulled him close. Remus sighed and rearranged his limbs so he was stretched out across the couch. The changing lights colored his skin, and the scent of pine and cinnamon made Sirius relax completely. He awkwardly bent over and picked up the book Remus had dropped. Remus smiled. "You could always read it to me," he murmured.
"That's what I was thinking, too," Sirius said. He opened the book. "'Twas the night before Christmas…"