This is my post-PoA contribution. The movie was fairly well done, my only real issue being the fact that Siri was shorter than Remus (I nearly cried, I swear, even though many people had confirmed the fact before I saw it). Anyways, I loved the added music to the scene when Remus was teaching the kids about boggarts. Thought it was a lovely touch, and decided to explore the notion some more. Enjoy!
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Disturbed
To the outsider, the room looked uninhabited. A thin layer of dust covered the surface of the desk and shelves; cobwebs clung to the corners of the room and sunlight fell in streaks through the old cracked window on the north wall. Dust particles danced through the sunbeams, pausing to waltz over a pile of books on the desk: Advanced Transfiguration, The Updated Code for Werewolves and, Potions Monthly: A Collection. Bound in leather, spines cracking, the books were not out of place, though perhaps a bit odd in content.
A slim eagle's feather was lying perpendicular with the edge of the desk. Next to it, a bottle of fine black ink and rolls of yellowed parchment. Like the books and the rest of the room, a thin dust veiled the writing utensils. Situated on the top right-hand corner of the desk was a black clock, which ticked away dutifully, and then a pile of old records.
The record player itself had a special spot in the room. Tucked away in the southeastern corner, it was made of polished cherry wood and had been enchanted to play continuously. From the speaker came the sound of big band music, though the music itself was being covered over by the laughter in the hallway.
"Wait until you see, Remus!"
The laughter, belonging to a hoarse-voiced man, drifted into the room. "Sirius Black, just what are you up to? If this is another one of your crazy jokes, I'll-"
"No no, Moony my boy, nothing of the sort."
The door was pushed open and a black-haired man strode into the room. He headed for the record player, eyes gleaming grey and murky blue in the dim lighting, but holding a mischievous smile. The man slid a new record from the cardboard case and switched it with the one formally on the audio device. Satisfied, he lowered the needle and turned to his companion.
Light brown eyes widened in recognition, and the tawny-haired man felt a grin tugging at his lips. "Swing, Padfoot? I never knew you fancied swing music, of all things." Then he choked on his laughter as his friend grabbed his hands and began to move them around the room, attempting to perform a modified version of swing dancing.
"Brilliant, isn't it?"
"Mm."
They laughed then as they danced around each other, fingers clasped tightly to maintain a constant source of contact. The first man felt his heart pounding as he watched his friend; the full moon was in two days, and the other man had just been so down recently, he had wanted to cheer him up, was all.
When they bumped into the desk, the grey-eyed man pulled his friend close and leaned against the furniture, breathing into the musky scent of earth and sky and everything that the other smelt of.
Something flickered within gold-speckled eyes, and the light-haired man titled his head slightly. "Sirius?"
"Yes?"
The music played on in the background, but the rhythm no longer flowed through their bodies. In its place, a new rhythm was beating. Hands tightened, and eyes avoided contact as they stumbled over their next words.
"I- thanks."
"Mm, welcome. It- it was Lil's record, y'a know."
"Oh?"
"Mm. A- muggle style- her mother was quite fond of- apparently."
Suddenly they found themselves pressed closed, lips locked in a chaste kiss. Sometime during the short exchange, the raven haired man knocked over the stack of books, startling them both as Advanced Transfiguration landed with a thud on the wooden floor. They were both trembling when they pulled apart, cheeks flushed, and rather embarrassed laughs coming from their mouths.
"Sorry."
"I-it's fine, Remus."
"Is it?"
"I think so."
A pause; the record player sung on to cover the awkwardness. Then, "Do you want some tea?"
"S-sure."
"Right, then."
The two men moved apart, the light-haired one trying hard not to run from the room as he headed for the kitchen. His friend stared after him, then moved toward the record player and lifted the swing record from the turntable, placing it back in its case.
When he had gone, closing the door behind him, the room was left alone again. The dust settled back onto the desktop, trying to hide the fingerprints where clammy hands had gripped the wooden surface. Advanced Transfiguration remained where it lay on the floor, and spiders crawled out to tend to their webs.
No matter how hard they worked, however, nothing could change the facts: something had been disturbed.