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fox_confessorTitle: In the Sun
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
escribo
Rating: R (though not this part)
Warnings: none (this part)
Word count: 2020 (this part)
Summary: AU. Sirius was sorted in Slytherin and Remus isn't a werewolf
Notes: This has been sitting on my hard drive for nearly three years so I thought it might be a good time to finish it and get it posted :D
i.
Sirius mechanically moved his hands over the piano keys in a command performance for his mother, though she barely took notice. Her voice carried loud over the music, as she and her friends lingered over their coffee. He hated being put on display, just another jewel like those that lined her fingers.
Regulus, the spare, was no doubt already off to the beach with his friends. He had no talents to speak of, Sirius thought bitterly, and was never missed. There were no speeches ringing in his ears about responsibility and family honor; those belonged exclusively to Sirius. They came with the inheritance, with being the first born, and he hated it all but still he played on. There was nothing else he could--no other way to be.
The piece was one that he had played many times before and he had no need for the sheet music laid out in front of him or the girl who dutifully turned the pages. He played without thinking, his eyes moving blandly over his mother and her friends, the tea room where they’d had lunch, the high windows and the gardens beyond. It was all so familiar, the same things and the same people he saw every summer, so much so that he nearly missed the boy half-hidden in the shadows behind the door, his hands filled with a stack of dishes.
Remus Lupin, Sirius remembered, a disaster in Potions though he rivaled Sirius for top marks in Defense against the Dark Arts. A Gryffindor. It occurred to Sirius that perhaps he was listening to the music, Sirius' music--that he was enjoying it. The concept was so novel that Sirius' fingers tripped on the keyboard, sounding loudly on a sharp note, and Remus jumped, his eyes opening (had he noticed they were closed?) and met Sirius' for a moment before he scurried away back toward the kitchens.
For the rest of the evening Sirius watched for Remus but only caught sight of him once more when it was Sirius' turn to hide. From behind the heavy curtains separating the the vast dining halls from the ball room, he could overhear some girls from where they stood in the door, whispering as Remus helped to clear the tables after dinner.
Muggle born, they said. Gryffindor. Beneath their notice, they didn’t say but Sirius knew--forbidden fruit. Delicious, one laughed, made brave in their little group by entitlement to speak as though Remus wasn’t there, as if he couldn’t hear, though his cheeks burned red.
Not as handsome as your Sirius, Natasha.
But he’d do, she answered, at least for a night.
Sirius watched Remus, too, at how even in the ill fitting robes of the servants, Remus stood out. He was tall, his hair golden in the last remnants of sunlight slanting in from the high windows. His nose was a bit too big for his thin face but his lips were full and cherry pink and his eyes deep brown. He knew they could flash intelligence and amusement by turn--it wasn't the first time Sirius had noticed Remus, not even close, but he'd never allowed himself to think about it before. Sirius could absolutely see the attraction and his own cheeks burned as he thought about maybe more than a night, more than a turn because Remus was all the things that Sirius wasn’t and he wanted that. He was overwhelmed by his desire for the boy who had actually stopped to listen to his music, by the rush of possessiveness and twist of disgust in his guts for the girls and what he saw of himself in them.
ii.
The book was second hand and bought with part of Remus’ first pay, the rest hidden away where neither his mother nor her boyfriend could find it. They wouldn’t want the book, its spine broken and several pages marked in a cramped hand with words he could barely make out. It was about bull fighters in Spain, a place he’d never been, about unrequited love, and loneliness. He’d already read it once, alone in his room, his wand providing the weak light to read by because his mother didn’t like him to waste the candles, and now again on the beach.
Remus had buried his feet into the warm sand, his knees pressed against his chest, his book opened on the ground in front of him. Every now and again, Remus turned a page or three or four. He was reading his favorite bits and the favorite bits of the previous owner. The sun was warm on his back. He knew he’d be burnt, could feel the skin stretching tight across his shoulders, but didn’t care. It was better than being in the tiny, dark cottage where he was unwanted, or the sprawling hotel where he was only wanted for his ability to obey orders and keep quiet. Here it was warm but there was a breeze off the sea, and he was alone, with nothing but the wind and his own thoughts. Or rather, he had been alone for the first two weeks of the summer before someone else had discovered his cove.
At first, Sirius Black had merely stood on the bluff, his hands settled deep into his pockets, and watched the sea, Remus had supposed. After a few days, Remus had begun to believe that maybe he couldn’t be seen after all but had checked the vantage point himself one day and discovered that there was nothing else to see beyond the horizon and Remus. Then Remus thought maybe Sirius was plotting revenge for some prank that James had masterminded, House pride important enough that the fact that Remus was rarely involved mattered little. No revenge came, though, and Sirius seemed content enough to keep his distance and watch so Remus relaxed enough to let him get on with it and not spare another thought for the strange proclivities of Slytherins.
It was only three days after Remus let his guard go that Sirius ventured forth, scrabbling down the steep path on his bottom and then picking his careful way through the sand to where Remus sat. Remus wished he had not left his wand hidden beneath the loose floorboard in his bedroom, and had to fight the very unGryffindor-like urge to run away as he remembered Sirius’ skill when they’d learned to duel. He’d bested James that day, though Remus’ sense of fair play wouldn’t let him forget that Sirius had never used more force than necessary to disarm James and had returned his wand immediately. It was that memory that let Remus sit still and quiet while Sirius came to stand a few feet away, waiting it seemed until Remus looked up.
When he finally did, Sirius dropped to his knees and crawled forward, startling Remus though he only sat up straighter, his mouth falling open slightly as if he might warn Sirius off but thought better of it. Sirius sat cross-legged next to Remus and pulled out a lumpy package from his pocket. He took his time unwrapping it and Remus couldn’t help but watch, leaning forward a bit, thinking about curiosity and cats and any number of other warnings that his mother had drilled into him when he was still young enough to listen and be frightened by them.
Finally the package was unwrapped and Remus could see they were biscuits, thick, moist, almond flavored biscuits sprinkled with icing sugar. Remus had offered plates and plates of them at lunches and teas at the dining room in the hotel, never allowed to have one for himself. When he didn’t take one right away, Sirius picked one up and held it out. For a moment, he had a vision of Sirius leaning over his cauldron, potions and poisons at his ready, and stared at Sirius for a long time before he finally took the biscuit, his breakfast a distant memory, and nibbled on the edges, savouring it, his eyes on the horizon. When he was finished and had licked his fingers clean, Sirius held out the second biscuit and after a beat, Remus took it, too. Sirius shoved the napkin into his pocket and dusted his hands of icing sugar, his lips quirking up into a half smile. For a while, they sat still in silence, looking out over the water, until Sirius checked his watch and picked his way back up the bluff, gone without a word.
iii.
The next day Sirius brought Remus a bottle of pumpkin fizz, still a little cold as they passed it back and forth, and the day after that, a handful of fat strawberries. The fourth day, Remus wasn't there but Sirius saw him that night as Remus worked as a servant at the dinner party Sirius was forced to attend. Sirius was sat next to the girl, Natasha Malfoy, a cousin to whom he was meant to be married when he left Hogwarts. She was a Slytherin as well, exceptionally pretty if a bit stupid but then his father often said a smart girl wasn’t worth the trouble. She sat quietly next to Sirius, her pale hair and skin a stark contrast to Sirius' black hair and deep tan. She kept her hand on his arm throughout the soup and fish courses, picking at her food like a bird and, to complete the impression, tittering across the table to her friend while Sirius' mother beamed at them both.
Sirius hated her and he hated wearing dress robes in the middle of summer, and he hated fish, and was busy hating pretty much everything in the world when the servants, whose presence he had never noticed before, were suddenly part of his reality as he realized it was Remus who was refilling his mother's wine glass. Sirius blushed, his pulse quickened, and then Remus had moved on and Sirius felt like he was drowning. After dinner, Sirius was made to perform on the piano again, which he hated, too, and didn’t have a chance to see Remus again.
Late that night, he climbed out his window and ran to the cove because he felt that if he stayed beneath his father's roof for one more moment he would suffocate. He was surprised when he found Remus there, sitting still and quiet as he looked out over the waves. Sirius searched his pockets but found nothing except an old pepper imp. He picked off the lint and offered it up, relieved somehow when Remus took it, ate it, breathed a small burst of fire into the dark and then fell onto his back into the sand, laughing. When Remus reached out to wrap his hand around Sirius' bare ankle as if anchoring him to the ground, Sirius smiled.
"I like when you play the piano," Remus said after a while, his eyes still fixed on the dark sky above them.
"I'm not very good."
"You sound brilliant to me."
Sirius rested his forehead onto his knees to hide his grin.
"The girl sitting next to you at dinner was Natasha Malfoy, right? Lucius Malfoy's sister."
"Yeah."
"Are you going to marry her?"
"We were betrothed to one another when we were three." Sirius raised his head to look over the sea, biting his lip before he said the thing he'd long thought but never had the nerve to say aloud. "I'm not going to marry her, though. I hate her. I'm more interested in you."
He looked down at Remus, expecting shock or something worse, but it wasn’t there. Remus just looked at him steadily, the same half smile on his lips as he listened. Sirius felt something expand wildly in his chest and had to look away, afraid he would embarrass himself if he didn't. He only just had enough courage left to press his fingertips against Remus' long fingers, which were still wrapped comfortably about his ankle, and felt sure and safe for the first time in his life.
to be continued
Author:
escriboRating: R (though not this part)
Warnings: none (this part)
Word count: 2020 (this part)
Summary: AU. Sirius was sorted in Slytherin and Remus isn't a werewolf
Notes: This has been sitting on my hard drive for nearly three years so I thought it might be a good time to finish it and get it posted :D
Sirius mechanically moved his hands over the piano keys in a command performance for his mother, though she barely took notice. Her voice carried loud over the music, as she and her friends lingered over their coffee. He hated being put on display, just another jewel like those that lined her fingers.
Regulus, the spare, was no doubt already off to the beach with his friends. He had no talents to speak of, Sirius thought bitterly, and was never missed. There were no speeches ringing in his ears about responsibility and family honor; those belonged exclusively to Sirius. They came with the inheritance, with being the first born, and he hated it all but still he played on. There was nothing else he could--no other way to be.
The piece was one that he had played many times before and he had no need for the sheet music laid out in front of him or the girl who dutifully turned the pages. He played without thinking, his eyes moving blandly over his mother and her friends, the tea room where they’d had lunch, the high windows and the gardens beyond. It was all so familiar, the same things and the same people he saw every summer, so much so that he nearly missed the boy half-hidden in the shadows behind the door, his hands filled with a stack of dishes.
Remus Lupin, Sirius remembered, a disaster in Potions though he rivaled Sirius for top marks in Defense against the Dark Arts. A Gryffindor. It occurred to Sirius that perhaps he was listening to the music, Sirius' music--that he was enjoying it. The concept was so novel that Sirius' fingers tripped on the keyboard, sounding loudly on a sharp note, and Remus jumped, his eyes opening (had he noticed they were closed?) and met Sirius' for a moment before he scurried away back toward the kitchens.
For the rest of the evening Sirius watched for Remus but only caught sight of him once more when it was Sirius' turn to hide. From behind the heavy curtains separating the the vast dining halls from the ball room, he could overhear some girls from where they stood in the door, whispering as Remus helped to clear the tables after dinner.
Muggle born, they said. Gryffindor. Beneath their notice, they didn’t say but Sirius knew--forbidden fruit. Delicious, one laughed, made brave in their little group by entitlement to speak as though Remus wasn’t there, as if he couldn’t hear, though his cheeks burned red.
Not as handsome as your Sirius, Natasha.
But he’d do, she answered, at least for a night.
Sirius watched Remus, too, at how even in the ill fitting robes of the servants, Remus stood out. He was tall, his hair golden in the last remnants of sunlight slanting in from the high windows. His nose was a bit too big for his thin face but his lips were full and cherry pink and his eyes deep brown. He knew they could flash intelligence and amusement by turn--it wasn't the first time Sirius had noticed Remus, not even close, but he'd never allowed himself to think about it before. Sirius could absolutely see the attraction and his own cheeks burned as he thought about maybe more than a night, more than a turn because Remus was all the things that Sirius wasn’t and he wanted that. He was overwhelmed by his desire for the boy who had actually stopped to listen to his music, by the rush of possessiveness and twist of disgust in his guts for the girls and what he saw of himself in them.
The book was second hand and bought with part of Remus’ first pay, the rest hidden away where neither his mother nor her boyfriend could find it. They wouldn’t want the book, its spine broken and several pages marked in a cramped hand with words he could barely make out. It was about bull fighters in Spain, a place he’d never been, about unrequited love, and loneliness. He’d already read it once, alone in his room, his wand providing the weak light to read by because his mother didn’t like him to waste the candles, and now again on the beach.
Remus had buried his feet into the warm sand, his knees pressed against his chest, his book opened on the ground in front of him. Every now and again, Remus turned a page or three or four. He was reading his favorite bits and the favorite bits of the previous owner. The sun was warm on his back. He knew he’d be burnt, could feel the skin stretching tight across his shoulders, but didn’t care. It was better than being in the tiny, dark cottage where he was unwanted, or the sprawling hotel where he was only wanted for his ability to obey orders and keep quiet. Here it was warm but there was a breeze off the sea, and he was alone, with nothing but the wind and his own thoughts. Or rather, he had been alone for the first two weeks of the summer before someone else had discovered his cove.
At first, Sirius Black had merely stood on the bluff, his hands settled deep into his pockets, and watched the sea, Remus had supposed. After a few days, Remus had begun to believe that maybe he couldn’t be seen after all but had checked the vantage point himself one day and discovered that there was nothing else to see beyond the horizon and Remus. Then Remus thought maybe Sirius was plotting revenge for some prank that James had masterminded, House pride important enough that the fact that Remus was rarely involved mattered little. No revenge came, though, and Sirius seemed content enough to keep his distance and watch so Remus relaxed enough to let him get on with it and not spare another thought for the strange proclivities of Slytherins.
It was only three days after Remus let his guard go that Sirius ventured forth, scrabbling down the steep path on his bottom and then picking his careful way through the sand to where Remus sat. Remus wished he had not left his wand hidden beneath the loose floorboard in his bedroom, and had to fight the very unGryffindor-like urge to run away as he remembered Sirius’ skill when they’d learned to duel. He’d bested James that day, though Remus’ sense of fair play wouldn’t let him forget that Sirius had never used more force than necessary to disarm James and had returned his wand immediately. It was that memory that let Remus sit still and quiet while Sirius came to stand a few feet away, waiting it seemed until Remus looked up.
When he finally did, Sirius dropped to his knees and crawled forward, startling Remus though he only sat up straighter, his mouth falling open slightly as if he might warn Sirius off but thought better of it. Sirius sat cross-legged next to Remus and pulled out a lumpy package from his pocket. He took his time unwrapping it and Remus couldn’t help but watch, leaning forward a bit, thinking about curiosity and cats and any number of other warnings that his mother had drilled into him when he was still young enough to listen and be frightened by them.
Finally the package was unwrapped and Remus could see they were biscuits, thick, moist, almond flavored biscuits sprinkled with icing sugar. Remus had offered plates and plates of them at lunches and teas at the dining room in the hotel, never allowed to have one for himself. When he didn’t take one right away, Sirius picked one up and held it out. For a moment, he had a vision of Sirius leaning over his cauldron, potions and poisons at his ready, and stared at Sirius for a long time before he finally took the biscuit, his breakfast a distant memory, and nibbled on the edges, savouring it, his eyes on the horizon. When he was finished and had licked his fingers clean, Sirius held out the second biscuit and after a beat, Remus took it, too. Sirius shoved the napkin into his pocket and dusted his hands of icing sugar, his lips quirking up into a half smile. For a while, they sat still in silence, looking out over the water, until Sirius checked his watch and picked his way back up the bluff, gone without a word.
The next day Sirius brought Remus a bottle of pumpkin fizz, still a little cold as they passed it back and forth, and the day after that, a handful of fat strawberries. The fourth day, Remus wasn't there but Sirius saw him that night as Remus worked as a servant at the dinner party Sirius was forced to attend. Sirius was sat next to the girl, Natasha Malfoy, a cousin to whom he was meant to be married when he left Hogwarts. She was a Slytherin as well, exceptionally pretty if a bit stupid but then his father often said a smart girl wasn’t worth the trouble. She sat quietly next to Sirius, her pale hair and skin a stark contrast to Sirius' black hair and deep tan. She kept her hand on his arm throughout the soup and fish courses, picking at her food like a bird and, to complete the impression, tittering across the table to her friend while Sirius' mother beamed at them both.
Sirius hated her and he hated wearing dress robes in the middle of summer, and he hated fish, and was busy hating pretty much everything in the world when the servants, whose presence he had never noticed before, were suddenly part of his reality as he realized it was Remus who was refilling his mother's wine glass. Sirius blushed, his pulse quickened, and then Remus had moved on and Sirius felt like he was drowning. After dinner, Sirius was made to perform on the piano again, which he hated, too, and didn’t have a chance to see Remus again.
Late that night, he climbed out his window and ran to the cove because he felt that if he stayed beneath his father's roof for one more moment he would suffocate. He was surprised when he found Remus there, sitting still and quiet as he looked out over the waves. Sirius searched his pockets but found nothing except an old pepper imp. He picked off the lint and offered it up, relieved somehow when Remus took it, ate it, breathed a small burst of fire into the dark and then fell onto his back into the sand, laughing. When Remus reached out to wrap his hand around Sirius' bare ankle as if anchoring him to the ground, Sirius smiled.
"I like when you play the piano," Remus said after a while, his eyes still fixed on the dark sky above them.
"I'm not very good."
"You sound brilliant to me."
Sirius rested his forehead onto his knees to hide his grin.
"The girl sitting next to you at dinner was Natasha Malfoy, right? Lucius Malfoy's sister."
"Yeah."
"Are you going to marry her?"
"We were betrothed to one another when we were three." Sirius raised his head to look over the sea, biting his lip before he said the thing he'd long thought but never had the nerve to say aloud. "I'm not going to marry her, though. I hate her. I'm more interested in you."
He looked down at Remus, expecting shock or something worse, but it wasn’t there. Remus just looked at him steadily, the same half smile on his lips as he listened. Sirius felt something expand wildly in his chest and had to look away, afraid he would embarrass himself if he didn't. He only just had enough courage left to press his fingertips against Remus' long fingers, which were still wrapped comfortably about his ankle, and felt sure and safe for the first time in his life.
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I love how cautious and careful Sirius was in approaching Remus, reminded me when I tried to befriend a stray cat who had kittens in our backyard. Had to coax them out with food for several days before they came out of their hiding place.
Thank you.
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