Think of Me
Rating: Pg-13
Summary: Sirius realizes that Peter is the traitor and has time to spare before he can do anything about it. Where else would he go but home (RemusSirius SLASH, honestly)
A.N./Well, I had a small amount of time in my hands, and I'm asking you to fill my insatiable need for reviews, so I did this. So, anyway, someone had reviewed that I didn't have enough detail in my writing. With that said, this little thing can be my … practice drabble.
Inspiration was from "Think of Me" from the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack. All of you: go see that movie and buy the CD. It is amazing. Those dresses and capes and everything had me foaming at the mouth they were that beautiful. I don't own anything, and that includes a beta. I thank one of you that have reviewed all of my stories; I love every single one of you. If you want me to love you even more, review on this!
The bright florescent light stung his tired eyes when he flipped the switch of the narrow hallway. He hadn't stepped foot in his flat in a long while, and nothing seemed to have changed. The rug still tangled at his feet when he closed the door behind him. The key bowl still clanged when he set his things down, taking off his coat.
He surveyed the dark sitting area, not able to find the thing he had been looking for. Shaking his head to clear the muzzy feeling of other-worldliness from his mind, he stepped into the pallid kitchen. A few dishes sat in a layer of icy water, a coat of frothy soap floating in clusters. They sat there as a constant reminder that, indeed, there was a soul living here in this home. These rooms had not made a home for a long time though, and the thought made his chest tighten.
He went to the cupboard, pulling out a tall glass from the left and filled it to the brim with the chilled water from the tap. He downed it, wincing when the cold water and copper taste slide down his ragged throat. Even though he squeezed his eyes tightly they still throbbed from the release of emotion, the outburst of from himself that he didn't think was possible. A trickle of water slide down the side of his mouth, leaving a trail down his tear streaked chin.
Realizing his state immediately, he set his glass on the counter and leaned into the running water, splashing his face generously. He shook his head vigorously, as Padfoot often did in such situations, and water flew in all directions. Small droplets stained the white paint of the walls, rolling down to the linoleum, harsh and cold under his feet. Wiping his face dry with a calloused hand, running it once through his unkempt black hair, he walked out of the sterile light of the kitchen.
Stumbling over some books he had not spotted before, he cursed loudly, fighting to balance himself from his impending fall. When the silence had settled, he could hear a faint sound, that of rustling of pacing footsteps. He wasn't sure, but thought that it was coming from the back room. His heart beat wildly, hammering in his chest. Looking down the long stretch, he made his way to the last door at the end of the hall. Every footfall he made, his body hollowed. His heart, his chest, his very bones hollowed by the emotion that was over-coming him again.
Slowly, with shaking hands, unsure of what he was going to see, his fingers brushed the cool brass door handle. It sent a shock down his arm. Gritting his teeth in concentration he grasped the knob and turned it, pushing the door open.
The room was dark with the curtains drawn to shield the cruel light of the moon, nearing its full. The wide bed in the center was quaint with invitingly soft sheets, the right side ruffled with an indented pillow, looking as though someone had slept in just recently. When he moved out of the doorway, he heard the door close slowly behind him. Jumping, alert, he reached for his wand that was in his pocket, but a hand from behind him was quicker, setting across his own.
"Shh, love …" he heard the voice from behind him say.
Paralyzed, as he often was, by the familiarly of that husky sound, he let go of the edge of the wand and his arm fell to his side. The strong body pressed against his back, torso flush with his shoulder blades as arms folded around him, holding onto him securely. His eyes shut blissfully when a pair of soft lips made their way down his neck. Nimble fingers loosened his shirt with ease, every button taking into slow consideration. The breath caught in his throat when the last button was released and the cloth was slide from his broad shoulders.
"I've missed you so much," the voice said, just above a whisper. It was full of need, breath hot and tongue pleasantly wet against his ear. It sent shivers down his spine, and he needed to hear his name from those lips, needed to feel the love radiating off that body. He needed the sweet ecstasy that is Remus' kiss.
Turning sharply, he captured those smiling lips, leaning into the convivial arms. The wet muscle was wonderful against his ear, but not as much as it was on his tongue. The lovely swirl of the kiss sent his mind reeling but he craved more. Delving his hands into the tousled hair, he pressed deeper into it, pouring out as much love and passion he could come up with. Loosing his breath he let go and moved down the long ivory curve of his neck, kissing everything he could.
Remus chuckled, leaning his head back to allow more ministrations. His voice was thicker than honey when he groaned, voicing out the words that Sirius longed to hear. "I love you, Sirius. I've—god—I've missed you, missed you, missed you …" Taking their hands in a tight clasp, Remus threw them both on the sheets.
Sirius would never stop wanting him, and it pained him to think that he could ever have thought that he was, or ever would be, the traitor. But this wasn't the time to think of that. This, for all he knew, could be the last time that he would ever see him, so Sirius took every movement into thought. He memorized the way their fingers fit perfectly together, the way the lips crushed together in helpless desperation. The friction of their bodies set Sirius aflame, and his once tired eyes to see stars, his mind going blank from all the troubles around them. The smile on Remus' face, the light of excitement and things much richer made Sirius' stomach flip and suddenly he was lost in the whirling moment.
When they lay there much later Sirius took a pause, studying his face for a long time. He wondered how he could ever have thought that this person that he loved more than anything in the world could ever commit such horrendous crimes. Remus dozed peacefully, arms loosely draped around Sirius' waist. Sirius fingered a lock of hair on his damp forehead, brushing it from his face. How fantastic it was to lie in those arms again, not knowing how badly he missing them from the last three weeks of being away.
Remus snuffed his nose, gently pressing his cheek into the pillow that they shared. Sirius clenched his jaw, struggling against the wave of emotion that hit the back of his throat and eyes. He had never considered himself a gifted person of the Sight, but he had the foreboding feeling that this would be the last time he would feel this. This would be his last chance to tell Remus everything.
"It's Peter, Moony," he whispered, smoothing the tawny hair away and tenderly stroked his temples, cheeks, lips, everything. "Peter is the traitor. He has been working for Voldemort for the past few years, passing secret information. And I actually thought it was you. That's why I was gone all the time. I couldn't stand the thought that it might be you, and I really believed Pettigrew's lies. Remus … Forgive me."
After a moment of Sirius catching his breath again, composing himself, he leaned in closer, their forehead's touching and noses nuzzling.
One last whisper made its way from his throat, and every word was strained with emotion. "If I don't come back think of me fondly, my Moony. Remember always that I love you. Please, always remember."
With that, he placed one kiss to his moist brow and one to the parted lips, lingering there with his breath mixing with his. He kissed them again and pulled away, carefully untangling himself from his long limbs. Placing the sheets securely against the sleeping from, he stood and reached for his clothing. He pulled out his wand, pulling his trousers up swiftly. After he was finished, he made his way to the doorway quietly. He looked at Remus once more, hanging on to the frame, taking everything into memory. Sirius smiled weakly and he turned.
When he was outside, the clouds covering the morning sun, he took a long look at their bedroom window, and he hoped that he would never forget; that he would always remember everything they shared. Pulling his coat tighter around him, wand clutched tightly in his hand, he Apparated to Liverpool where he would be able to tell James his knowledge; where he knew they would go after Peter, ending it forever.