Disclaimer: Not my characters. Also not for profit.
Notes: Barely more than a drabble, set sometime around the ending of book 4. Actually not meant to be slash, but I would be neither surprised nor upset if it were to be read that way.
Warmth
His room at Remus' home sometimes had a chill to it, though it had a hearth which was functioning perfectly well. This surprised Remus when first he noticed; he had expected that Sirius wouldn't stand for his room being cold. It might remind him of Azkaban.
When asked, he had said offhand (for that was always how he spoke with Remus of his experiences there at first, if in fact he said anything at all) that he didn't notice anymore. During that time he'd spent in the south, surrounded by sun and sand and gaudily colored wildlife, he had hoped to shake the chill that had settled within him over the years in prison, but he'd discovered there was nothing to be done about it. It wasn't a physical chill at all, but something that pierced the soul rather than the bones.
Well, he hadn't said that exactly, but he might have said something as melodramatic as all that after a couple of drinks.
He hadn't turned to drowning himself in alcohol, either, though there were times he indulged. It was useful, now and then, on the nights he woke shivering and was unable to fall asleep again. Useful for the way it spread warmth through the body; better than chocolate in the way that it numbed his thoughts and let him sleep, and the way that it lowered the physical and emotional barriers that had sprung up without his noticing. A drink or two, and he could allow himself to curl up on the sofa with Remus without awkwardness, limp and groggy and wrapped up in blankets together before a roaring fire until dawn broke. It might not banish that eternal chill, but they could try.
"You know, you're like an undementor, Remus," he murmured muzzily one night, after a few such drinks.
"An undementor, Sirius?" Remus replied, freeing one hand from the tangle of arms and legs they'd inadvertantly become. He smiled a bit as he reached up to smooth a stray lock of hair away from Sirius' face, willing as always to humor his friend's stranger moments.
"They suck it all away..." Sirius' voice was half-muffled, his face turned into the blanket. "All the happiness and warmth and good feelings - they drain it from you. But you, Remus... it's as if you simply open up and pour the warmth and the happiness back in..."
Remus opted not to make the obvious comment - perhaps he could find work keeping people out of Azkaban, then - and instead simply embraced his friend tighter, pouring as much of that warmth and happiness back in as he could. It was the only thing that seemed to warm Sirius, and he basked in it like the coming sunshine.