Author's note: This being fanfiction, the standard disclaimers apply. Constructive criticism is welcome. Timeframe: post GoF, pre OotP. Sirius has gone to "lie low at Lupin's for a while."
sugar makes it useless
He shouldn't be doing this.
Sirius runs a hand through shower-damp hair and bites his lower lip. Remus never takes less than a whole hour taking what he calls his "decent bath". It's right after his monthly three-night ordeal that Remus seems to need these baths. Like being the wolf has made him filthy or something. Sirius doesn't understand.
" Remus. " Drowsy voice tugging at the fabric of dull silence that night has woven around the small bedroom. Sirius felt slightly foolish trying to will himself into good dreams good dreams good dreams happy dreams, but wanted Remus to be near, nearer. Remus was sitting on his narrow bed ( two side by side in the room but Remus was always out of reach until he called ). His back was turned to Sirius; his back was hunched; Remus was very still. Sirius frowned, opened his sleep-heavy eyes. The lone candle was flickering rapidly, light-shadow blinking at every ridge of that curving spine.
" Remus? "
A strange tiny muffled sound, and then the sound of a bedside drawer being pulled open; then closed.
Sirius pulls the little drawer open, his heart beating a little faster ( anticipation-sheercuriosity-guilt ).
Soft footsteps; softsoft hair, greying now, he knew. And warmth, finally, as Remus curled his arms around Sirius' too-thin body, and Sirius revelled in the simple embrace. No words were said; none were needed.
He knows, instinctively knows, and snatches up the piece of parchment. It's not very old, not yellowed yet. It has been crumpled to a ball, smoothed out again, thumbed at the corners.
Smoothed out, almost lovingly.
Sirius knows he didn't expect this when he realises
that the parchment had been laid under an empty vial, when he takes in the writing
on the parchment. Black ink and harshly angular strokes:
Lupin,
This time, drink it as soon as it reaches you. Wolfsbane is not possessed of
a very long shelf-life.
I should not be telling you this, but I have been working on the formula: I
believe this batch will be more... palatable.
*Not* that you could ever outdo *Dumbledore* on that matter.
-- S. Snape.
And Remus's long bony fingers whispered down his hair, and Sirius smiled up at him, but Remus' eyes were not on him. Remus' eyes were far away.
Sirius stares at the parchment, vision blurring slowly into hatred. His hands tremble. He feels like tearing it to a thousand little ragged bits.
---