Name: Courtney Kathrys
Title: Repletion
E-mail: Faeriedeathhotmail.com
Summery: Sirius watches Ginny try to pick up the pieces after the loss of her mother, and he manages to create a mini-break for them which leads to rediscovering each other, and their passion.
Notes: Don't ask... I have no idea where I came up with this. It takes place during the summer before Ginny's seventh year. If you're a stickler for detail, you think of a way Sirius came back.... that's not the center of this story.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters are by JK Rowling. I only own the plot.
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Re-ple-tion: noun – fulfillment of a need or desire
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In the mornings she sets out breakfast, and her careful attempts at variation go in a four day cycle. But to him she is Midas and whatever she touches turned to gold and he eats her food like nectar from the gods.
In the afternoons she leaves to work, managing the financial affairs and business dealings of her brother's joke store while the twins locked themselves away in their creative workshop. The explosions coming from the store only drove people to the shop in droves. She has single handedly turned Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes into a near world wide phenomenon with shops in ever major wizarding shopping area in Europe and was steadily gaining popularity in America and Asia.
In the evenings she comes home exhausted from meetings with goblins and executives and her temper is foul but her dinner is edible and people smile and let her vent. Despite her unraveling nerves she is patient while whichever Order members that turn up for dinner devour her food amidst easy conversation, and he eats as much as he can as fast as he can and makes sure his plate is the cleanest when she magics the dishes to the sink with a little more force than duly necessary.
During the night she sneaks quietly from her own room to his, and curls up in his arms and sleeps. He lets her rest because she deserves it, and he knows that when the sun comes up her cycle will begin again. She needs a break but he is not going to risk her leaving his bed cold by being the one to suggest it.
He stays awake that night and watches her dream. Her mother's death has changed her in many ways, as only a mother's death could. She hadn't been a child for many years, but now she is forced into adulthood years before she should have shouldered that weight. Stress lines etched themselves deep into her forehead and around her eyes, and her bright red hair isn't nearly as vibrant as it once had been. Her eyes are always dull and tired and when they make love she isn't nearly as energetic. She is only twenty, she shouldn't look his age, forty-two doesn't suit her. He makes up his mind to have Dumbledore send them on a well deserved holiday, the old man had been talking regularly of sending him away for a few weeks, and he knew the Headmaster had noticed the toll on her. With this thought he finally laid his dark hair upon the pillow and allowed his black eyes to close in sleep.
The next day while she slaves away at work he brings his concerns up to the Order head, and the twinkling blue eyes shine knowingly when he makes his request; and it is accepted and Dumbledore agrees to ordering her away for a couple of weeks, and the Headmaster also agrees to keep it confidential and take credit for the idea.
She is furious after talking with Dumbledore, and he pretends to be indignant as well when they pack their bags and leave for a small flat in the Caribbean. Her fury leaves her soon and they make love in the blue green oceans.
They spend the weeks reintroducing themselves to each other, and relearning every curve and dip and expanse of skin on both of their bodies. Their suitcases lay unopened and they spend their weeks naked. They make love on the sand, and in the sea, under the sun, and beneath the stars. Her eyes grow younger, and her crimson hair regains its vibrancy as her skin drinks in the sunlight eagerly and it casts a glow all over her.
She tells him she wants to be a bird and just fly away from London and spend each day in a new and peaceful place. He confesses to her that she can be his bird if he can be where she lands each night.
He admits that he's terrified of spiders ever since his younger brother transfigured his pillow into one. She asks if he would like them better if he was a fly caught in her web. He concedes on the condition that he is the only fly she catches.
They both agree to escape here after the war to shed their battle scars, for now it is too soon to take the bandages off, and they are both scared that the salt will sting too much. Afterwards, they decide, the pain will lessen.
On the last night he gives her a simple gold band with a simple diamond and she cries into his dark hair as he familiarizes himself with a different connotation of the words 'Oh God, yes, yes, Sirius, yes!' That night they make love like it is the first time, and as if it is the last.
The coarseness of fabric is foreign to their skin as they stand uncomfortably on the beach, waiting for the portkey to activate. Their unused suitcases lye useless in their hands, and the empty soda can between them is unappreciated. Neither is looking forward to returning to reality, to work, to life in general. They are not ready for their tropical bubble to pop, and desperately crave some excuse to stay on the island forever. Both know it is as implausible as their late night murmurings of spiders and birds and the fading of battle scars. But there is little time to think of that when the portkey activates and they are safe inside the strange and unwelcome walls of Grimmauld Place.
For now he watches the cold streets of London through his bedroom window, missing the salty air and too bright stars he has grown to love. His jaw is still bruised and sore from when Ron saw his sister's new jewelry acquisition, and Harry is still sitting unmoving on the couch from the shock. But she is curled up in his bed, and tonight she sleeps with a smile.
-=fin=-
Thanks to:
Padfootz-luvr – That was so touching, thank you so much. I tried to remember the feelings from my Grandma's death, and my best friend's death as accurately as I could. In situations like that you only feels things in segments and disjointed pictures and I really wanted that to show through. I'm so touched that you were able to interpret it correctly. Thank you again for your wonderful comment.
Terriah – Well, I'm not sorry that I made you cry, that means I did my job! I'm glad you enjoyed it.