House: Hufflepuff
Class: Herbology
Type: Standard
Prompt: [Time] Midday
WC: 1124
TW: Mentions of arranged and unwanted marriage
Note: AU - Everybody Lives, Post-Voldemort
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Sirius groaned as a shard of sunlight pierced into his eye, the world momentarily bleached out into harsh neon shades of red and blue. Rolling onto his side — the blanket coiling round his legs like seaweed, trying to pull him under — he stared bleary-eyed at the clock on the wall.
The face remained impassive, an uncaring offset circle of chipped pale blue with the numbers carefully painted in every hue of sun-bleached copper around the edge. Sirius stared at the wrought iron hands in momentary confusion.
At times like this, the memories from his childhood kept intruding on the hazy reality of his present, and he stared at the numbers, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Where were the words? Where was the constant anxiety prickling in his gut that no matter where he went, no matter what he did, he was being watched with his decisions dissected like a helpless butterfly pinned beneath a magnifying glass?
Where the two hands pointed — almost indistinguishable as the curves of the iron seemed to blend together — lay a faded number twelve. It was the worst hit out of its counterparts, the colour faded away to a ghost of what had been, and what paint remained was cracked.
Had it stopped?
The thought was quickly proven false as the hand moved with a barely perceptible twitch, and Sirius sighed, twisting to press his face into a nearby pillow like a pleading supplicant.
Vanilla met his nose, warm and subtle beneath the bitter tang of ink that clung to Remus no matter how often he cleaned the dark stains from his hands. It was the chill beneath his cheek that pulled Sirius from the bed, knowing that the other man had likely been awake for hours and had slipped from the bed when it had grown too much to bear.
Sirius bit back a groan as he raised himself from the bed, his knee locking into place before it caved with a crack that echoed around the quiet room. He limped his way to the door, rolling his weight onto his other leg to try and compensate for the weakness in the other, pressing his hands over the worn wood surface of the dressers and then the panelling of the wall to balance.
"Remus?" Sirius called down the hall, peering through the shards of brilliant sunlight, dust that they could never clear completely swirling like a horde of pixies.
"Good morning, love! Well, afternoon now."
Remus' laugh was warm, as comforting as a warm cup of tea in the middle of winter, and it drew Sirius onwards in his careful limping stride towards the small sitting room.
On rounding the corner, he caught sight of Remus, and set his hip against the doorframe to study his husband in the bright midday sunlight. The grey that had threatened Remus' temples throughout his early adulthood had quickly taken over, but Remus had capitulated with a grace Sirius hadn't expected. Sirius still dyed his hair and accepted the playful teasing about trying to reclaim his lost youth.
"Look who's finally awake." Remus peered at Sirius over the wire-frame of his glasses, one brow raised as he grinned. The scars that lined Remus' skin had only faded with age, making the fresh scar that curled across his hairline all the more noticeable and Sirius' couldn't help but glance at it, his stomach twisting.
"You should still be in bed," Sirius countered, slipping into the space Remus had made for him on their sofa. It was antique, as everything else was, and he settled into the dip in the fabric with a sigh.
"It's lunchtime. Not all of us can sleep the day away like some hedonistic harlot." Remus settled back against Sirius' chest, pausing to press a kiss to Sirius' knuckles as they arranged themselves comfortably.
"Only for you, love," Sirius chuckled, smoothing a hand over the bandage on Remus' arm.
He thought back on the days when they all could stay out all night beneath the full moon then sneak back into Hogwarts when Remus had shuddered back into a human form, only to then sleep for a few hours before attending class as if nothing had happened with a mix of amazement and confusion. Sirius still felt the effects of the full moon days later, but today had been the first time he had slept in so late. But there had been a reason for it.
"How're you feeling?" Remus asked. His tone was light, but Sirius knew it was an act. He knew Remus was simply staring at the same spot of text and waiting for his response.
"Better. It was just an old nightmare." It was easy to examine the terror in the warm sunlight as it bleached the edges and made them soft, made the entire thing feel distant, but the cold shards still festered in the pit of Sirius' stomach. "I think Regulus would have fared even worse than me if things turned out differently."
Remus didn't answer, merely hummed low in his chest to prompt Sirius to continue.
"There was a party. It was an attempt at setting up matches for our future shortly before I ran away. Regulus and me, we never spoke about those sorts of things. We didn't have that sort of relationship, but I saw him watching me when I thought, for a moment, one of the servers was you, and I could tell that he knew I was gay.
"Later on, one of the girls approached him, just for a dance, I think, and he flinched away. He wanted nothing to do with any of it, no girls, no boys, no-one. But he would have agreed if our parents told him to, just like I would have if I'd never met you or James, or that rat."
Remus sighed, the sound sounding so much like he did when he was a wolf that Sirius couldn't help but laugh.
"He liked you, you know," Sirius murmured, pressing a kiss to Remus' head. "Shortly after I ran away, he left me a note. Cocky little shit he was, cause I found it in my Quidditch locker. He said he wanted me to be happy."
"And are you?"
Sirius laughed again. The cottage was small, but it was theirs to do with as they pleased. They were free men, and were helplessly in love, and happy.
"Yeah, I am." Sirius patted Remus on the hip. "Have you had lunch yet? Think we have the makings for a halfway decent picnic in the fridge."
Remus grinned, the same crooked smile he had as a teenager that turned the scar over his lip white. "Sounds like a great plan."