The corners of his mouth flit upward just a little as Sirius thinks
on this wonderful life. James and Lily have the most wonderful little
home, a quaint Muggle-style cottage in the south of Wales. Lily keeps
a fine household, lavishes attention on her garden as well. This time
when he visits the dusty pink roses are in full bloom, their sweetly
spicy scent curling across the stonework path as he walks up to the
house. He taps lightly on the bright red door, as is his habit, and
then walks on in, because they never stand on ceremony. Before he can
call out a greeting, his knees are nearly taken out by an oversized
garden gnome with unruly black hair.
"Uncle Sirus," Harry shrieks. Though his ears may ring, Sirius never
gets tired of the boy's enthusiastic greetings. Sirius manages
to pry those little arms off his legs, and then he tosses the boy
upwards and settles him over one hip.
"How's it going, Harry," he says, and then grins while he is treated
to a rambling story without head or tail that may very well be about
Quidditch. He wanders the bright house, full of the smell of lemons
and baked bread, until he finds James and Lily lounging in the back
yard. They each have an iced pumpkin juice in hand as they watch a
smoking black box.
"Could have told me where they were, you little monster," he scowls
at Harry. The boy just giggles and squirms down from his perch.
Last month Lily told them about a strange Muggle tradition called a
barbekay, and James took to the idea with his usual enthusiastic
vigor. So here Sirius is, ready for whatever role he is to play in
the scheme. Lily has informed them that tradition holds that
barbekays are the provinces of men, and therefore she is taking the
day off. Sirius smiles at the way she just smirks whenever James has
a question. She makes him puzzle it out on his own. Good on her,
then.
They have been lazing in the sun for about half an hour when a sharp
knock sounds near his ear. Harry jumps up from his miniature
Quidditch flyers arrayed on the short-cropped patch of green lawn,
already running for the door as he yells "I'll get it."
"He'll be getting his letter soon," Lily says, a strange mixture of
melancholy and pride in her jazz-satin voice as she looks after her
son.
"Not for another six years," James says, a bit indignantly. Sirius
supposes it is a mother's prerogative to have such an encompassing
viewpoint of her child's life. His own was less than sentimental in
his regard.
"He's still playing at snap blocks with--" and here Sirius pauses,
trying to place Harry's playmate. A Weasley, he thinks. There is a
never-ending supply of Weasleys, all with red hair and freckles.
Their discussion is interrupted by a wildly squealing Harry with his
other uncle in tow. Remus is smiling indulgently, hand resting on
that soft head of hair as he steps through the door. He looks good,
better than when they were at school. He wears Muggle khakis that
show off his small bum and a short sleeved shirt in one of those
unholy factory blends. The job at Flourish and Blotts agrees with
him. So does the more relaxed attitude of the public toward
werewolves in recent years. Sirius silently thanks Merlin yet again
for that Ministry decree.
Remus settles in beside him. James races off for some firebeers,
managing not to look guilty despite Lily's raised eyebrow. Sirius
knows it is just for show anyway; Lily will play catch up with her own
selection of spirits once the sun is down and Harry is in bed. She is
quite the saucy wench once you get past her prim exterior.
Sirius stretches in the chair, just managing to graze Remus's calf
with his bare foot. Deep brown eyes flick sideways, eyelashes
fluttering just a bit before he looks up to where James is returning
with a laugh. Harry tries to tackle James about the feet, but he's
still agile years after leaving his tenure as Seeker. Remus leans
forward to capture one of the brown bottles. When he sinks back into
his chair his arm and thigh press up against Sirius's own.
Sirius coughs a little, and then refocuses his thoughts. The sun is
warm on the bare stretches of his arms, his face, his feet. He can
smell the barest hint of sweat and musk rising from his own skin.
Remus is wearing new cologne, hints of spice with some citrus
undertones that make his mouth water. They chat away about things
both consequential and not, spending much of the time just watching
Harry. The boy is sure to follow in his father's footsteps on the
Quidditch pitch, given his current fascination with the sport. Harry
still hasn't gotten to fly on his own--Lily is adamant about
that--but whenever James takes him up the boy is like a soaring phoenix.
Sirius glances over at Remus at one point, and the look in those dark
eyes is enough to sear him to the wooden chair like a piece of the
meat James is torturing. Then Remus is rising, saying something about
the facilities. Sirius drains his bottle and offers to fetch more.
In a few seconds he is through the back door. Then he is pinned
against it, a soft tongue licking at his sun-dried lips. They snog
like fifteen-year-olds, wet and loud and deep. When Remus pulls back,
he is panting with his mouth open, panting like the wolf he wears just
under his skin.
Sirius grins at the thought, loving the way the two of them fuel each
other's desires. A cool prickle at the back of his neck starts to
intrude, but Sirius returns to the vision in front of him.
Remus nips at his mouth and neck while Sirius lets his hands wander
over hot skin and hard muscle. Remus steps away, murmuring something
about rejoining the party. Sirius smiles in reluctant agreement, but
brushes a quick kiss over those narrow lips one more time. That pulls
a breathy whisper from Remus.
"Love you, Pad--"
And then Sirius is drowning in ice, his breath pulled out of his
lungs in a cold burn along with the remains of the pseudo-memory. His
eyes fly open despite his will. He catches a glimpse of that
parasitic mouth before he forces his eyelids shut. His body shudders
and shakes, the cold and fear and loss robbing him of anything but
autonomic functions. He feels warmth on his belly that rapidly ices
and he knows that he has wet himself once again. It matters little
with that face of horror and grief hovering over him. He tries to
figure out how to beg, but even that is beyond him. It just keeps
going, icy fear. He thinks he might die this time.
Later he looks around at the bare stone cell, empty except for
himself, a naked cot, and a waste bucket. He must have passed out.
Not an unusual occurrence. He whimpers and rolls over, pulling his
knees up to his chest and clasping his arms around them. He stares at
the bland stone wall, letting his mind fill with the hum of
nothingness. He doesn't know how long he stays that way--there
are no markers of time here--but soon enough he returns to awareness.
He rolls over and sees the tin of water and bowl of mush beside the
door. He drains them both, having long ago learned the futility of
attempting to ration. He leaves the dishes by the door and then
leaves a dribble of waste in the bucket. He ponders doing something
productive, stretches or exercise or reciting charms in his head, but
at this moment the weight of years overpowers his strength. He thinks
about folding into Pads, but some strange masochism drives him, making
him flirt with dangerous desires like a man snatching galleons from in
front of the Hogwarts train. So instead, he curls back up on the cot,
facing away from the near wall.
Ever so gently he probes at his memories, not immersing himself but
checking to see what's there. Best friends James and Lily. Godson
Harry. Years at Hogwarts, countless pranks and laughing affairs with
girls who should have known better. One love above all others.
He quickly leaves that one alone, jealously guarding it more than the
rest. Sirius gathers the facts from his brain, leaving the colors of
the memories behind. They never take it all. How would they feed if
he was stripped bare? They never take it all, but they take enough
that he carefully shields what he has left.
He gathers the facts and begins to spin a new vision.
Sirius thinks on this wonderful life. James and Lily have just
announced that Harry will have a little brother, and his godson is
delighted. Sirius keeps his grin to himself, though Remus' dark eyes
twinkle when they meet his own. They have plans to make, the two of
them together, and Sirius can hardly wait.