Rating: PG
Pairing: Sirius Black / Remus Lupin
Summary: The road is long and weary, and sometimes you cannot find rest. Instead, you find yourself numbly walking on. It happens to Sirius, and he knows no other way to go on, even on Christmas night. However, at the bleakest moments, you can find rest.
Warning/Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: See the lady that's still tweaking the fifth book? That one over there with the initials JKR? Yeah, her. She owns the characters, I don't.
Feedback: Craved and desired.
Happy Christmas, everyone!
O ye, beneath life's crushing load, whose forms are bending low
Who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slowLook now for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing
O rest beside the weary road and hear the angels sing.
-- from It Came Upon a Midnight Clear
It was late, so very late at night, and the bells of the church in the distance had all ready rang out their melody telling that this was, indeed, Christmas. Sirius stumbled along the road that he was following, hoping it lead to the place he was suppose to go. That was all that he had to hold onto. To hope that when he reached where he was suppose to go, there would be a warm house, and a warm dinner, and a warm bed for him to sleep in.
And if he was lucky, there would be a warm body ready to sleep aside his own, and heal him and let him rest, and help him to rest.
He did not know if he was that lucky, and he found himself stopping in the middle of the road and tilting his head back to look at the stars in the sky. Celestial bodies hanging in a black abyss that threatened to devour everything and anything whole should it become lost there. Sirius wondered, briefly, that if he stared long enough would he, too, become devoured? Join the canis major star hanging so brightly in the sky? Would he be forever lost to it, and able to lose himself in his memories because of it?
After all, the stars, all most all of them, and the light that they shed on the icy ground of the road and the world he walked in, were nothing but memories. Something that had all ready occurred where the star was, and they were viewing as a past event. He wondered, if he could become a true star, and at the same time, be able to view the past events that he cherished so.
"Can you hear the angels sing, Sirius?" Remus had turned around in Sirius's arms, looking up at him expectantly. They were standing outside in the snow, and it was falling down oh so slowly upon them. There were flakes stuck in Remus's hair, that Sirius was plucking out with his lips. Sirius had to slowly lift his head, raising an eyebrow.
"What are you prattling on about, Remus?" He didn't honestly understand what Remus was getting at, and it showed on his face, but then he quickly covered it up.
"The stars, the trees, everything, but especially you. Can you hear them all singing? Can you hear the angels singing? The sound that they make on these winter nights. It's divine, heavenly. Holy." Remus explained easily, the words rolling off his tone so sweetly, that Sirius was tempted to kiss Remus, and barely refrained from doing so. When Remus spoke so passionately about subjects such as this, it was hard not too.
"... assuming I'm an angel, are we?" The tone in Sirius's voice was a light, teasing one. Eyes twinkling merrily.
"Sirius, you're missing the point." Remus sighed, turning back around in Sirius's arms, and resting his head back against Sirius's shoulder. Turning his head up to look at the stars, while Sirius's fingers rubbed at his stomach, and Remus soaked up the warmth. "But one day you'll understand what I mean."
Sirius shook his head, mind plagued by memories and thoughts, and the sounds of fallen angels that made his body feel colder and made him feel lonelier than before. It was cold on this harsh road, and there was nothing he could do but walk on. Walk on and pray that his body would hold out and he could make it to his destination.
His eyes stayed on the road, his foot steps heavy, but continual, never stopping, and never ending. It was mechanical, these movements of his. To keep going, no matter what. He was hunched, cloak held tightly around him, trying to hide himself, what little he could do. Maybe if he made himself small enough, this journey of his would be over faster, and he would be where he needed to be. Faster, sooner, quicker.
Off the road.
Then there was the sound of foot steps ahead of him. The icy crunch of snow, dirt, and rock, crushing underneath the foot falls of someone else walking on the road. Sirius did not lift his head up, but instead let his eyes tilt upwards to look in front of himself. There was another there, walking towards him, but then stopping. As if studying Sirius, watching him and carefully cataloguing his presence.
It would've been unnerving, if he could've brought himself to care. The cold had dimmed his feelings, and his heart, and everything else about him. His mind, however, was telling him to be wary and cautious, that this could be a dangerous situation. He just couldn't bring himself to care, not now.
And then, quite suddenly, the arms of the other were held open, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a familiar set of robes. Tattered and old, but not quite like his. Tattered and old in the sense that they were worn in, and quite comfortable, and something one wore to remind one's self of the past, or remind one's self of what use to be. Sirius's eyes widened, and then his mouth opened up.
There were no words coming out, but he knew. He knew those arms, and that body, and that robe peeking from beneath the winter cloak. The arms had the most effect on him.
Those arms. They were open and waiting. Hands held out, palms upturned. As if the man standing there was just waiting for the right piece to fit in next to him. As if he was waiting for that one right thing to come into his grasp. Sirius's steps faltered on the road as the visage of the man in the worn winter cloak filled his vision, his senses, his very being. As his heart broke into two, and seemed to mend itself again, because the feeling blossoming in the cold of winter, in the coldness of his chest, just could.
He suddenly, inexplicably, felt so very tired and old. His steps struggled forward, the biting chill of the wind blowing through his tattered and torn robes. Sirius could not tell, at all, what he was struggling with. It was as if his feet were stuck and frozen to the ground; the wind blowing hampering him and making him move backwards, not forwards, when he could move. Those arms, still open, still waiting, still calling him like a sweet siren's call in the dead of night. They were doing things to his body that he could not begin to comprehend.
The bubbling of warmth that started in the pit of his stomach, and shot out from there. To the tips of his fingers and toes, the warmth went. The way he seemed to want to shatter and break underneath the gusts that hit his body, if only to be mended by those waiting arms. Sirius shuddered, closing his eyes to the onslaught of images that filled his mind. Wanting nothing more to reach those arms, and bask in their strength and security.
"Come hither, weary traveler."
Soft words, soft tone, and a rich honeyed voice that was soft and slow. Sirius's head jerked up, nearly cracking him because the movement was so fast to his frozen body. His head had been turned down, only his eyes upturned, but now his whole body was turned and facing the man in the winter cloak. One arm pulling back from holding himself open to Sirius, and pulled back the hood of the winter cloak. There was the familiar face. The lines around the mouth, the lines at the corners of the eyes, the lines every where else on the body. Planes and figures of something that he once held dear to him -- would hold dear once more.
He lurched forward, as the hand came back down, the arms once again open and beckoning him so much more loudly now. He felt himself, not hearing himself, falling into those arms. Felt as they closed around him, and pulled him tightly to the body that was much more warmer than his. Sirius took a deep breath, taking in the scent that surrounded his senses and overwhelmed it so pleasantly. His buried his face against the soft skin of the other's neck, the tips of his hair tickling his ear delightfully.
This was all so familiar. This was all so welcomed. This was home. In these arms, in this warmth. Weary, and tired, and broken, he could find shelter here. Forever, so long as he choose that.
"Sirius ...," softer this time, the words brushing against him, and a warm finger lifting his chin to tilt his head up. Golden eyes meeting Sirius's stormy blues. He smiled, lips cracked and frozen, and shook his head fondly.
"I can hear the angels sing, Remus. I can hear you sing." Sirius thought he could see tears forming at the corners of Remus's eyes, but he could not tell, as he was crushed in a fierce hug. Head tucked underneath Remus's chin, the warmth from his body radiating to him. It was heaven, and the angels were singing.
If the angels could be Remus's body, and they were. The sound of his heart beating, the sound of his breathing, the sound of his fingers sliding into Sirius's hair, and cradling his head. So many sounds. So many voices singing. From everywhere around the two of them, but mostly just Remus.
Weary and tired, and in the arms where he belonged, Sirius realized that now, he could rest.