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05 September 2004 @ 12:59 am
Why I love this story  
As soon as Remus stopped trying to ascribe a name to this thing that lingered, ticking away time with an a-rhythmic beat, between his and Sirius's hearts, things became much less complicated, relations much more relaxed. It wasn't a matter of categorizing anything, Remus realized finally, after thinking otherwise for too long. It was just sitting back, feeling comfortable with Sirius's presence, and waiting for things to happen. Once he gave up trying to control it, it would play out well enough on his own.
In the first few mornings Remus finished reading Sirius The Count of Monte Cristo as Sirius rested himself against Remus's lap in breathless anticipation. They moved on to Hamlet, which had Sirius tensed and anxious in his seat, and Remus couldn't help but equate Sirius to the prince of the tragedy. Rash and impulsive, in that respect - for Remus had never seen Hamlet as hesitant, but rather as plowing head first into things before he paused to even think. Definitely, Remus decided finally, like Sirius Black.
During the long days they wandered outside with the sunshine cast down upon them, warm and friendly, inclusive in the revelations of soft secrets.
Sometimes, they held hands.
Their fingers interlaced, they would walk along the cobblestone, broken here and there, with Sirius's feet scuffing scones in front of them. Etienne let them go out whenever they wanted and left them to their own means. Remus's eyes had changed radically since Etienne had seen them on the platform, waiting for the train. He let Sirius do what he could, and stayed wistfully away from his son and his son's friend for the duration of Sirius's visit.
They would talk of everything or of nothing at all, of James and Lilly, of classes and teachers, of Hogwarts, or perhaps not even of school at all. They would talk about the future as they saw it, or didn't see it. They rarely ever talked about the past. As the young tend to do, they kept their eyes focused forward on an almost palpable image of what would be, what they would be, waiting with aching impatience for time to pass so they could finally be it. The specific details were blurry for the both of them, but as Sirius knew without a doubt Remus would be there, Remus assumed that Sirius would be a constant in his life whose presence he could depend upon.
There were times also that they did not need to speak at all, when they held each other's hands tightly and watched their interlaced fingers unchanging between their thighs. Their footsteps became the rhythm which dictated their breaths and their words, or their lack of words. They learned to easily judge each other's moods and thoughts by watching the way shadows fell over their cheeks, or the way they kept their faces angled - towards or away. It was in this way that Remus learned how Sirius walked, with a loping, canine grace to his limbs, a proud angle to his back that did not suggest dignity but rather confidence. It was in these moments that Sirius found how much he could read in the movements of Remus's eyelids, how much he could feel in the lines and curves of his lips, how much he could understand through the temperature and movements of his graceful hands.
It was in these moments that Sirius began to feel strong and invincible, and Remus began to drink in such feelings into himself and thrive upon them. People did not have roots, flowers did, but what served as Remus and Sirius's roots began to wind together, twining into knots that would be close to impossible to break. What Remus felt, Sirius felt almost as acutely, and the same went for the two in the other direction.
When they didn't hold hands it felt as if they were, those roots clasped like their fingers. They only needed to be close. Separating them would be like uprooting them from these comfortable routines they had fallen into.
In the nights they watched movies, had ice cream, at fish and chips and reveled in the grease of it, the youth of it. On the couch in the sparsely furnished living Remus allowed himself to curl up against Sirius's side, in the circle of his arm, and they fell asleep that way many nights before the movies even ended. They learned the way their bodies fit together most comfortably, that way, with Remus's head on Sirius's shoulder or Sirius's cheek resting on Remus's thigh, one of Sirius's arms snaked around Remus's waist or Remus's fingers tangling in Sirius's hair.

From Cœur de Loupe by Lady Jaida
 
 
Current Mood: pensivepensive
 
 
 
e_squared23e_squared23 on September 5th, 2004 02:28 pm (UTC)
addictive... sorry i restarted you on the story. :)
Wotcher?: Harry's Bum :Dkoiuta on September 5th, 2004 02:46 pm (UTC)
It's okay. While it does make me think a lot; it also makes me happy. I love rereading it, so no sorries.