Remix of “Drift” by Asuka (siriusjazz on LJ)
Author: fleurdeleo Email: firstname.lastname@example.org
Summary: After his escape on Buckbeak, Sirius makes an unscheduled stop to see Remus.
Spoilers: None, if you’ve read Prisoner of Azkaban
Thanks: To Victoria for her beta and to Asuka for her lovely drabble.
"I thought you'd left."
Remus stands by the desk, brushing dust from rotted wood.
"Couldn't leave without saying goodbye."
"So was running around with you every full moon. Never stopped me." The pale morning sun is kind to Sirius. If Remus squints, he can see the man he remembers - young, handsome. Sirius reaches to cover Remus's hand, but Remus moves - it's hard to believe Sirius is here, escaped and innocent.
It was easy to accept the night before.
Today is another day, and Remus doesn't want to replace the Sirius he remembers with the harsh reality.
"Remember when people thought this place was haunted?"
"They still do." Sirius is grinning. Remus's heart aches.
Chuckling, he sits on the ancient bed. "/You/ had a part in that."
Sirius sits beside him. He rests his head on Remus's shoulder, and Remus leans in.
He watches dust drift through the light.
Flood (Hold Back the Rain Remix)
Sirius Black had never bothered much with mirrors. He had taken his handsomeness for granted as he had done every good thing in his life—until Azkaban. Especially, he had taken for granted the people he loved: James and Lily, then Harry. And Remus. Always, Remus.
He rubbed the top of Buckbeak’s head as they rested in the forest. They had made their flight from the tower hours ago, and Sirius knew that by lingering in the woods he risked both of their lives, so freshly saved by Harry and Hermione. To stay was reckless and selfish: words that had been applied to Sirius many times in his life; and he knew, without shame, that they were true.
Like a flood that consumes everything in its path and swells, hungry for more, Sirius was no longer satisfied merely to be free from the Dementors or to have found Harry or to have escaped execution.
He wanted Remus.
He wanted Remus to grasp and hold him again, tightly, with shock and joy, as he had in that initial moment of reunion.
And so he waited until the light crept through the trees. After whispered words to Buckbeak, he set off through the woods for the Shrieking Shack; he knew without a doubt that he would find Remus there.
"I thought you'd left." Remus stood by the desk, and brushed dust from the rotted wood. He had circles under his eyes, and looked too weary to smile, had he been inclined to do so, which Sirius suddenly doubted. His face was white and his hair was flecked with grey. Sirius hadn’t noticed this the night before. He wanted to fling himself at Remus and shake him and press his mouth against his throat and cry, “Remus, do you believe it? We’re alive!”
But he said instead, "Couldn't leave without saying goodbye."
A shadow passed over Remus’s face. "That's dangerous."
Sirius was certain that Remus did not mean it was dangerous only for him. His hands were cold, and he put them in his pockets for fear he would grab onto Remus and never let go.
"So was running around with you every full moon. Never stopped me."
Remus did not reply, but stared at Sirius in a guarded way. Sirius didn’t need a mirror or Remus’s narrowed eyes to tell him that he had changed. He had seen the newspapers with his photograph; he had looked like a maniac. But inside, he felt no different than the day they’d dragged him to Azkaban, though now he knew that Remus, like himself, was innocent.
He didn’t care if Remus was innocent or guilty or hated him or had built a life that included someone else to love. He would not leave this place until he broke the dam between them.
Sirius reached to cover Remus’s hand, and was not surprised when Remus pulled away.
“That’s how it is,” Sirius thought, “how it always was. I know how this works.”
Remus looked at Sirius, and said in a low voice, “Remember when people thought this place was haunted?”
“They still do.” Sirius grinned. He looked at Remus who swallowed and looked down.
Remus sat on the ancient bed and chuckled softly after a moment. “You had a part in that.”
Sirius sat down on the bed next to Remus.
He remembered that when they were young Remus never left his room without looking in the mirror first. Sirius and James had teased him, of course, chiding him for his vanity. It wasn’t vanity at all, Lily had pointed out, made cross by their insensitivity, but a vigilance born of need: the need to look like everyone else, the need to look normal, with no tell-tale signs of the trauma visited upon his body every full moon. While Sirius got admiring glances from girls (and a few boys) after merely pulling on wrinkled clothes and running his hands through his hair, Remus, for all his grave fastidiousness passed by unnoticed. And that’s just how he wanted it.
Now, looking at Remus who was scratched and bruised, exhausted and troubled, and old before his time, Sirius had never seen anyone more beautiful. His need to conquer, to demand, to destroy if necessary, receded back as with the tide. Whatever came of this time, whatever became of them, he would welcome it. He leaned his head on Remus’s shoulder, and without hesitation, Remus leaned in against him.