Title: For An Eternity
Pairings: Remus/Sirius, James/Lily
Rating: PG-13 or T
Warnings: This will ultimately contain slash (boyxboy love). If you don't like that kind of thing, do yourself a favour and click on something more to your taste :) Oh, and there's swearing and such. Also, some religious references that are not meant to be offensive at all. So please don't be.
A/N: I should be working on other fics but here I am, a slave to the plot bunnies. Damn bunnies;D
Disclaimer: The characters, sadly, aren't mine. But I like to play with them from time to time.
For An Eternity - Chapter 1
Sirius Black fell through the Veil at exactly 10:29 pm on Thursday June 27, 1996. He didn't see it coming until the curse hit him squarely in the chest, effectively stopping his healthy not-quite-thirty-six year old heart, and achieving in a tiny moment what twelve years in Azkaban under the Dementors hadn't been able to do – it killed him.
Dead.
Sometime after that, Sirius wasn't sure when, he awoke to the sound of harps and a singing choir and the only thought in his mind was, 'Fuck. I must be dead.'
He promptly blacked out.
He awoke again sometime later. Lying on what felt like the ground, though it was more comfortable than he ever remembered the hard ground feeling, he opened an eye with trepidation, not sure what he was about to face, but all he saw was a veil of blue.
Everywhere.
He opened the other eye, lifted his head slowly, and took in his surroundings. He was lying in a field of lush green grass, clothed in his best dress robes, and the sky above him was cloudless, surreal. All he could see for miles and miles around him were rolling hills and the pale blue horizon off in the distance, in every direction. There were no harps or choirs now – no noise at all, apart from the pounding of his heart.
The sound threw him for a moment. Was he really dead? He sat up and pondered the facts as he saw them, with alarming calm, weighing what he'd experienced in that strange room deep in the bowels of the Ministry with what he was experiencing now. On the one hand, he was sure his heart had stopped the moment Bellatrix's curse hit him. Still, it seemed to be beating now. And then there was the fall through the veil, the heavy feeling in his limbs weighing him down until he couldn't feel his limbs anymore. It had all felt so real, so final. So like death.
As he sat still, blinking emphatically and mulling over his fate, a voice startled him out of his thoughts.
"Not sure where you are, mate?"
Sirius, on his feet instantly and going for his wand, whipped around and stood facing a tall, lean sandy-haired man.
"Well?" he asked, in an Australian accent, "Figured it out yet?" He sounded amused.
"Who the fuck are you?" Sirius responded, annoyed at once by the Aussie's tone.
"There's no need for that kind of language, mate," he answered, "the Big Man doesn't much like it."
Sirius frowned. "The Big Man?" he asked.
The tall man smiled. "Yes, you know, the Lord Almighty, Smiter of all things Evil, Bringer of the Light, Creator of Universe – the Big Man."
Sirius looked the man up and down. He didn't look mad but he was speaking madness. "Right." He looked around for any sign that it was all just a very bad dream.
"No, mate, you're not dreaming, and yes, you're dead."
Sirius opened his mouth to protest. He couldn't be dead. He had a body. He was wearing fresh, clean robes ... that he hadn't been wearing a moment ago. But his heart was beating. He could – hey, where did the sound go?
"You see, the Big Man thinks it's easier on you earthbound folks if you have something familiar with you when you, um, awaken. Less of a shock."
Sirius let the words sink in. "So, I'm not really standing here? I'm not in my body? These really aren't my robes?" The wand suddenly felt strange in his hand.
"Well, yes and no," the man replied. "It's a completely different thing now. You're in a different realm and the physical exists so long as you will it, but it's not really necessary."
Sirius looked at him blankly.
"Oh, man, it's just really… complex."
Sirius heard the words but couldn't get his mind past, "you're dead."
"Listen, why don't I go over the drill with you, get you familiar with the Afterlife – "
"You never answered my question."
"What was that?"
"Who. The Fuck. Are You?"
A smirk played at the Australian's lips. "Name's Abiel," he said. He thrust out a hand.
Sirius, staring at the wide, rugged hand, reluctantly shook it. It felt warm and calloused against his own, and the feeling was instantly arousing. He dropped it a second later, surprised at the sudden stirring of desire.
"Are you an… an – "
"An angel? That's right."
Sirius stared at the tall, lean, well-built man before him. He was young, not much older than Sirius was when he went to Azkaban, with sandy hair and a tanned complexion and sparkling hazel eyes. He was also, Sirius couldn't ignore, very attractive. And rugged. And attractive.
"You like what you see, mate?" Abiel asked, smirking.
Sirius found it disconcerting. An angel should not look that wicked.
He was suddenly hit with an agonising thought. "You're not an angel, are you?" he whispered.
"I am."
"No," he breathed, feeling light-headed (and vaguely concerned over whether the feeling was real), "you're one of them, from be – below."
Abiel let out a thunderous laugh. "No worries, mate. You're in heaven, or, if you prefer, seeing as you're a non-denominational wizard, 'the celestial plane'."
Sirius felt relief course through him but he still didn't understand how the angel before him could look like a cross between Remus and Mr. January out of Boys n' Buns magazine.
"It's simple, really," Abiel replied, as if he'd read his mind, "I look how you want me to look. I'm a combination of wants, desires, and whatever you find comforting." He smirked again and boldly adjusted himself. "Mr. January must have really left an impression."
Sirius felt a flush, which startled him. How could he be blushing in heaven? Wasn't it supposed to be paradise, free from the bonds of bodies and physical torment and desire?
"Relax," Abiel went on soothingly, "you should have seen me last week with this bloke from Manchester – chaps, a bridle – and nothing else."
An image formed quickly in Sirius' mind and he tried to dispel it, to no avail.
"Sorry," Abiel said sheepishly, "I didn't mean to … yeah." He looked suitably repentant. "Look," he said more cheerily, "there's someone waiting to see you."
Sirius suddenly felt his stomach drop (and was again startled that he could still feel it) as he remembered where he had been the moment he died.
"It's not Harry, is it?" he blurted, panicked.
"No, no," Abiel answered, placing a calming hand on his shoulder, "Harry's fine. The battle's over, the bald bloke got away, but Harry's fine."
Sirius felt relief wash over him until the image of Remus' face suddenly flashed before his eyes.
"Remus!" he cried out.
"No, mate, he's fine, too. Or as fine as a man who's just lost the love of his life can be."
"The love … "
Abiel nodded. Sirius couldn't speak.
"No one's joining you today," Abiel went on gently, "your cousin's hurt but she'll survive, and then there's that old guy with the freaky eye, but he'll be fine as well."
"Then is it – ?"
"It's James. He's waiting at the path."
Sirius followed Abiel as he led him across a field. They came to a path a little while later and Sirius, who hadn't noticed it before, came upon a single beech tree, its limbs low and gnarled just like the tree on the Hogwarts grounds. Under a particularly low branch stood James Potter, looking like his twenty-one year old self, his glasses sitting below the bridge of his nose, and his dark hair messier than ever.
"James."
That was all Sirius was able to say before his best friend's arms were around him, hugging him close, the scent of Prongs tickling his nose.
"James," he sobbed over and over into his friend's shoulder.
They stayed like that for a long time, or so it seemed to Sirius, who didn't want to let go lest he lose his mate once more. Finally, James gently pulled away.
"You twat," were the first words out of his mouth.
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;D