niftywritingsandwhatnot

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

Hey here is a current project! <3

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

<3

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

<3

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

Heyyyy here is a short!! It is Duncan/Klaus from a Series of Unfortunate Events! <3 

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

The Kitchens

part iii

Sirius thought being a royal meant having power. He thought having power meant having answers. Academically speaking he supposed this was true. He did have power. In a few more months, he’d have all the power in the world. A kingdom. A nation. Anything available, all answers ready at the snap of his fingers. His whole being would be flooded with his royal blood. It would be all anyone would see. Not that people saw much more anyhow.

Sirius looked down from the doorway, blinking and surprised to find his hand outstretched towards the place where Remus had been a moment before. He opened and closed it a few times, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. He could use an answer right about now.

But it was useless. Power. Royalty. It was all so utterly useless against… whatever had just happened. He was tempted to try, to search and see if someone could puzzle this one out for him as well. But he wasn’t sure that was possible.

He put his hand down, only now noticing how cool the room had gotten as the sun set. He looked up at the sound of feet above him, frantic feet… pacing? The floorboards groaned under the hesitation and then squeaked and protested when the pacing started up again. Twice they came to the top of the stairs, and twice they retreated once more. He wanted to go up, almost did a few times… But Sirius didn’t know if he was welcome upstairs. He frowned as Remus’ words echoed in his ears.

Of course you can be here. You’re you.

He sat back on the stool, sighing and picking another piece of cake from the crumb ridden plate. The phrase really shouldn’t bother him. It was true after all. He could go any where he pleased. And it was because of who he was. He should be proud of that, that was power, so why wasn’t he? It was maddening, honestly, but he didn’t want Remus to think-

Sirius threw the cake down, rubbing his hands over his face.

He didn’t know what he didn’t want Remus to think. That he would invade any space he chooses just because he can? Yes. But he could so why shouldn’t he?

Sirius stood. He wanted answers. Why shouldn’t he get them?

The stairs practically wailed under his feet and he heard Remus still. He turned into a small, nearly bare bedroom almost immediately as he followed the sound—or lack of. He hoped his reaction didn’t register on his face. The room was sad, and drab, and positively wretched. He didn’t know how Remus lived in here much less slept at night.

“Who said you could come up here?”

Sirius turned his gaze away from Remus’ bedroom and to the boy himself. Remus stood in the center on a small, threadbare rug that could hardly pass for more than an old dishtowel in Sirius’ opinion. His arms were wrapped protectively around himself and he was red from his cheeks to his neck, a dark embarrassed flush that made him look positively endearing and livid at the same moment.

Sirius stepped into the room, carefully avoiding the moldy door frame, “You left without explanation, I came-“

“That doesn’t mean I wanted you to follow.”

Sirius shook his head, mind reeling, “I don’t understand.”

“Oh,” Remus scoffed, “There’s a first.”

Sirius, to his surprise, flooded with hurt rather than anger at the insult. He didn’t want to lash out, not like he usually did. But he wanted it to stop. He took a deep breath through his nose.

“Why, are you so angry?”

“Because-“ Remus gestured wildly at Sirius who looked down at himself, trying to pinpoint something that he could have done. He looked back up, bewildered, when Remus failed to elaborate.

Remus’ cheeks were pink his eyes burning, “You can’t just waltz in everywhere like you own the place!”

“I do own the place!” Sirius burst, confusion slowly giving way to the familiar burning flare of his temper.

“That doesn’t give you the right!”

“I-“ He snapped his mouth shut. His hands were fists at his side. He felt deep, dark shame spread through his chest, snuffing anything else out in its path. His straightened, “I know that.”

He dropped his gaze from Remus’ who was still breathing hard, “I know that.”

Remus turned away too, bracing his hands against the splintering desk on the far wall and not saying a word.

Sirius wanted to take it back. He’d foreseen this reaction and carried it out anyway. Why?

Pride.

Sirius swallowed.

Remus’ knuckles were white against the wood and he stiffened when Sirius took a step forward so he took two backwards instead, “I apologize.” After the evening they’d spent together, the words felt too formal coming out of his mouth but he continued the tone anyway. He didn’t know how to not set Remus off again. He didn’t want to.

“I overstepped. I was… confused. I didn’t mean-“

“I know.” Sirius was surprised at Remus’ voice. It was shaky and unsure. It was hopeless, “I know you didn’t mean it, you never mean it, but you do it and I… I think its best that you go. Just right now, I-“ Remus turned back around, sighing. Sirius’s fingers dug into his palms at the relief that flooded his chest when Remus looked at him, “I don’t know what to say right now, alright? I’m sorry, you’re sorry, let’s just… leave it at that. This is strange enough as it is.”

Sirius blinked, “I didn’t- what about this is strange?”

Remus let out a small, only half humorous laugh, “Really?”

Sirius shuffled, unsure. He didn’t like not knowing, he didn’t like being unsure. But here he was, with Remus, a boy who seemed to be nothing but unfamiliar territory.

“I- I had a fine time tonight. I don’t see what’s so odd.” He clasped his hands behind his back, then unclasped them, the gesture reminding him too much of his father.

Remus looked at him for a moment more, then shook his head, hands going behind him briefly to untie his plain, canvas apron from around his waist, tossing it onto the bed, “Have you forgotten who we are?”

“Of course not.” And then Sirius slipped a little, “Quite hard to given the state of this room.” He trailed off at the end, biting down hard on his tongue, “I- I didn’t-“

“Yeah, you didn’t mean it, right?” Remus’ stare was colder than Sirius had seen it yet, “You really should go.”

The silence in the room was crushing. Sirius tried to straighten his back, to regain some form of composure… but he couldn’t. Not enough, anyway. And he turned quickly on his heels, thundering back down the stairs and up out of the cool kitchen. He ran and didn’t stop until he was leaning back against the shut door of his room. He gazed around at it, breathing hard.

Everything was perfect.

The pillows were fluffed, the sheets turned down. Not a speck of dust. The finest of silk sheets lay waiting for him, the wood bed frame positively shone. The expensively dyed, woven tapestries on the walls showed riches and wealth.

He gulped down air, nails digging into the wood behind him. He’d let himself believe for a moment. He’d let himself think that maybe, just maybe…

A friend.

But here he was, back where he started. In this spotless room, waiting for a future to be mapped out for him. Waiting and simply passing the time. Is that what he’s trying to do with Remus? Yes. Yes, that’s better. It’s better to think of it like that. Just a way to pass the time. Not a friend. A servant. That’s what he is, that’s what James is, that’s what they all are. And he is a king.

He is a king, and a king rules alone.

~

Sirius stayed quiet as James dressed him, avoiding his curious glances when any attempt at banter or conversation was more or less ignored.

“Mate, the party won’t be that bad. There will be drinks, look at it that way.”

Sirius nodded, busying himself with undoing and re-doing a tie on his sleeve, “I’m sure.”

He heard James still from where he was hanging up a dress jacket from behind him, then sigh, “Alright…”

Sirius closed his eyes briefly at the guilt that flooded his chest. He didn’t want James to think he was angry with him. He wasn’t really all that angry at all. He was confused, he was hurt. He couldn’t seem to say the right thing anyhow so why say anything at all?

“The pub was fine, by the way,” James voice came after a moment, much more guarded than before, “thanks for asking-”

“I’ll take the green instead, actually.” Sirius cut him off before he could try and start another conversation, a conversation Sirius didn’t think he could finish before slipping up and loosing what little distance he’d been able to put between him and his friend in the half hour James had been in his room. He shrugged off the black vest he was wearing and held it out without eye contact, simply trying to keep James busy.

He could feel James looking at him and finally had to look up as well, not wanting to run the risk of appearing childish. They held each other’s gaze for a second before James took the thin velvet garment, turning back to the closet and swiping the green, “Why the sudden change of heart?”

He was not referring to the jacket.

Sirius allowed James to ease the material over his broad shoulders, straightening it with a tug, “Just… thought it would be better.”

He was not referring to the jacket.

A few beats of silence and then he heard James huff out a breath, “Well then. Okay.” Sirius turned around nodding as James eyed him somewhat too knowingly. Sirius knew he knew something was up. Instead of pressing, however, James just spread his hands then let them drop back to his sides, slapping against his pants, “Right, enjoy your party, feast, ball, whatever it is.”

“Not likely.”

James smirked at the same time Sirius did and there it was. The friendship leaking through the cracks. Sirius cursed himself for letting it, and thanked god that it was there in the first place. He straightened.

“I’ll let you know if I need anything. I assume you won’t be waitering?”

“McGonagall said they had enough so, no.” James pushed his hands into his pockets.

Sirius nodded. McGonagall, head of the downstairs, always on top of things. Sirius had always liked her despite what his mother said about her habits and dress.

“Right, okay.”

James nodded back, and was turning to go when he halted, hand on the door nob, and turned, “Sirius?”

No, no, just leave, James. Sirius chanted at him in his head. He would slip up again. James was all he had and he would slip up again, “Hm?”

James tilted his head a little, “Are you okay?”

Sirius exhaled a shaky breath, closing his eyes. Because of course. James, all he had, his first and only friend, and the only person to ever ask him that, ever. He savored it, he let it melt the walls away. He couldn’t do it. He wasn’t sure he’d even tried properly—wasn���t sure he could try properly, but he couldn’t shut him out. Not James.

“Sirius?” Worry clouded James’ voice now.

Sirius opened his eyes and nodded quickly, “Yes. Yes, fine. Just…” He tok a breath, words coming out with his exhale, exhausted, “you know how I get at these things.”

James nodded slowly, as if weighing it for truthfulness, “Right.” He turned to go but turned once more, “You’d say, wouldn’t you? You’d tell me if it was more?”

Sirius melted a little more. Care and kindness was not something he was experienced with, and he fumbled to handle it each and every time. His conscious screamed a few things that his mind didn’t quite comprehend yet.

I’m so lonely I can barely stand it.

Everything I need is right here. Everything I want is right here and so far.

I’m a king and he’s not.

That last was especially dangerous. He didn’t know what would happen if he let that one come to full comprehension.

“Sure. ‘course.” Sirius bit the inside of his bottom lip, “Of course I would, James. Have a good night, yeah?”

James flashed him an uneasy grin and left fully this time, door shutting softly behind him.

Sirius let out a breath he had been holding. His sheets were silk. His crown was pure gold. His clothes were the finest all around. His cellar was full of riches and coin. His home was a castle. His birthright was a country and a beautiful queen.

And yet, at that moment, he would have traded it all for a bit of plain chocolate cake and the sandy hair and kind smile that went with it. And he didn’t know why. He knew which should be more promising, but he also knew which one actually was.

He left for the party with heavy feet and a conflicted mind.

~

The party was brilliant and soft. The lanterns shone out against the dusky sky and laughter filled the summer garden. The patterns in the paper placed around the candles cast intricate patterns on the guest’s faces, making them seem to be a part of the flowers that surrounded them. Sirius wished he could enjoy it all more, honestly, he did. He lived for summer evenings. But his mother was cackling at his elbow, his brother sulking at his other, and his father downing scotch after scotch across from him, all while pretentious dukes and nobles and their wives laughed and practically bowed on the spot. Anything to gain favor. Sirius stood, back straight to avoid a glare and nails digging painfully into his neck, but it was all he could do to not slap the lot of them. But he had become fluent in the art of restraint early in his life. For many reasons.

He turned to Regulus, seeking at least some refuge, “Fancy a swim tomorrow?”

Regulus didn’t even look at him, “Not particularly.”

Sirius blinked, staring at his little brother for too long. His mind played images of them only a few years ago, snorting at the table and sneaking off from parties to some mischief. For the life of him, Sirius couldn’t say what had gone wrong. Another question, it seemed, the royal blood did not get him the answer to.

He sighed, turning away, “Right then. Nice of you to let me down lightly.”

Regulus glared sharply at him but turned away again, wordless.

“Sirius!”

Sirius’ stomach clenched at his mother’s voice—the singsong one she used in company. He flicked the corners of his lips up almost on instinct, turning towards the sound and whoever it was he was meant to greet. He nearly lost the slapped on smile, however, when he saw who that was.

“Sirius, darling, meet Anthea. Anthea Cerberus. You know the family…” His mother muttered the last part in his ear.

Sirius stared at the young girl for a moment. She looked around his age, maybe a few years younger. Her eyes were practically black against the swirling pattern of light that a lantern was slanting across her face, and although Sirius knew it was the lighting darkening the brown irises, it unnerved him. She looked soft and flush, just like the rest of the guests, but her gaze did not. Sirius listed off what he knew in his head. His age, female, introduced to him by his mother who followed the introduction by hissing a reminder of her status in his ear. Sirius gulped down the dread that was rising in his chest.

“Ms. Cerberus-“

“Oh, do call her Anthea, boy!”

Sirius grit his teeth, letting the pleasure he took in the slip up of his mother’s tone into his veins. He took the hand she was presumptuously offering, “Anthea. Pleasure is mine.”

She let out a little laugh, biting on her lip in a way that he was sure was suppose to look sweet, “I’m sure.”

He scoffed ever so softly under his breath, “Are you?”

Sirius flinched at the familiar dig of his mother’s nails onto the flesh where his neck met his shoulder. His back straightened instinctively and his heart picked up. They retreated, and he could feel the sharp sting where the crescent shapes had broken skin.

“Anthea lives just in Akeldama. You know Akeldama.” The queen’s voice was back and strong, dripping with false adoration.

“Oh yes, wonderful hunting.” Sirius had never been hunting in his life and never would if he could help it.

“Quite right!” She fanned herself with the small embroidered fan she held. Two snakes with entertained necks blinked at Sirius from the stitching, “Perhaps one day you can catch me something. Something… big and bloodied.” Her eyes had lit up in a way that made Sirius want to positively run.

“Yes…” He swallowed, keeping the smile up, “Perhaps-“

Sirius broke off, a movement from just beyond the lights catching his eye. He wasn’t even sure how he noticed it until he realized what exactly he was looking at. A face peaking out from between trees. More importantly, a face with a nose that sloped up just a bit at the end and caramel hair.

Sirius blinked a few times, then turned back to Anthea, knowing he had paused for too long to appear normal but attempting to recover anyway, “Yes, absolutely. Perhaps, in the meantime, I can offer you…” He glanced over to the dessert table, “something sweet?”

She giggled, although it didn’t sound like a giggle. It was horribly high pitched and came out through her nose.

“Oh yes, please.”

He left the girl and his mother, who were gushing about his gentlemanly actions, with no plan on returning.

He weaved through the crowds of people towards the long table that was laden to the brim with sweets and cakes and puddings. He nicked a plate and started from one end. He made his way through the table, taking two of every dessert that visibly contained or that he knew to contain any form of chocolate. When he was done, the plate was only just nearing too piled and he looked at it with satisfaction. If anything qualified as a piece offering, this was it. With a last glance towards where he could just see the tops of his mother and Anthea’s heads, he disappeared from under the lights, arcing around the trees, which he knew to ring a small clearing, where he had seen Remus’ face moments earlier.

He walked briskly until he was at the opposite edge of the clearing, fully able to see Remus’ back as he watched the party from the safety of the trees. His hands were pressed to the bark of the one to his left, wrapping around it and letting his temple rest against it. Sirius thought he heard soft humming in time to the music. Sirius took quiet, slow, steps until he was just behind Remus.

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage,

“A fairy’s ring.” Remus jumped out of his skin and Sirius grinned, “That’s what they call this.”

Remus let out a huff that could have been a laugh and turned, “Jesus fucking…”

“It’s suppose to have powers… of some sort.” Sirius interrupted him and pretended to look around at the darkening trees, the lights of the party only just filtering through them, when really he was watching Remus from the corner of his eye. Finally, he shrugged, eyes falling back on Remus fully, “If you believe in that sort of thing.”

Remus stood there quietly, watching Sirius with guarded eyes. When he said nothing, Sirius strode forward the last few steps to see the party as Remus had seen it, from between the trees. He spied his mother with her crown and cape almost instantly. You could not hear her cackle or falseness from here. You could not hear the snide, narrow-minded comments from here. You could not smell the reek of alcohol off his father from here. They all looked so happy from here. He wondered if Remus knew the truth.

“Looks quite lovely, doesn’t it?”

There was a few more beats of silence, until he felt Remus step up beside him, felt the warmth of his skin, “Yes. But you know that.”

His voice was guarded. The coolness stirred something in Sirius, some strange desire to do whatever he could to get rid of it. He thought of Remus in front of the oven that evening after swimming. He had felt so completely alone that day, floating in the center of the lake. But with Remus and his pink cheeks and freckled nose, he’d felt… cured? He didn’t know. Sirius shifted, clearing his throat, “I was making conversation.”

“You struggle with that.”

“With you, yes.” Sirius sighed. Again, he seemed to have stepped wrong.

He felt Remus stiffen beside him, then shift away to lean against the tree again. The heat of his skin had been distracting in a way that Sirius was sure it shouldn’t be, and was even more so now that it had gone.

Sirius tensed at the thought, the sudden want in his chest to regain that contact, and at his fingers tightening around the plate in his hands, he remembered what he was holding. He turned, holding it out wordlessly.

Remus looked down at it, eyes wide and blinking rapidly, then looked at Sirius with the same questioning stare.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to say…” Sirius hesitated. In reality, he couldn’t really remember what he had said to make Remus leave in the first place, “I meant not offense,” He settled on instead, “and I know you like chocolate, so… think of it as a peace offering. I hear the chocolate cake is divine.”

Remus’ mouth twitched upward at that and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, hesitantly taking the plate.

I want to give him more. I want him to look at me like that again.

“I’ve… I’ve never had half of these.”

Sirius blinked, “You make all of these.”

“For you.” Remus laughed, actually laughed, and then caught himself, stuttering, “I mean for the upstairs. I mean- you know, your family.”

Sirius felt knocked askew at the guilt that rushed suddenly through him, “Oh. Well, we can sit. Or- you can sit. If you prefer.”

“No. No, it’s alright.” Remus nearly mumbled it and he dropped quickly to the ground. The light from the party cast soft shadows through the leaves against Remus’ face as he looked up at Sirius. It was better than the patterns of the lanterns and Sirius wished he could capture it somehow, “We can sit.”

He nodded, then sat too, shifting so he was shoulder to shoulder with Remus again, unable to resist feeling the warmth once more.

They sat quietly for the most part, picking at the chocolate, Remus occasionally commenting and Sirius occasionally agreeing. He didn’t take anything unless Remus offered it to him, something that he found took some restraint. He wasn’t use to being denied such trivial things. Eventually Remus scooted until he was turned around, and merely nodded in the direction of the party when Sirius raised an eyebrow. He wanted to watch. Sirius rubbed his cold shoulder softly before catching himself. He could have sworn Remus was watching the gesture, but when he really looked Remus’ eyes had darted away. The lights flickered through the leaves against his face, casting soft patterns. He offered Sirius a round truffle and Sirius took it.

He rolled it between his fingers, coating them in the bitter cocoa dust, “You like watching the dancing.”

“And you can’t cook an egg.” Remus said through a cherry sponge cake, “Anything else we’ve learned about each other?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes slightly, smile playing at his mouth, “Yes.”

“Oh, really?”

Sirius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, “You aren’t afraid to correct me.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, taking the truffle back that Sirius had yet to eat, “You aren’t afraid to insult me.” He popped it into his mouth, “So, you’re basically saying I’m head strong and can’t dance. Anything else?”

Sirius sighed, letting his head fall back against the rough tree bark, looking at Remus threw his eyelashes, eyelids hooded, “Well. I could teach you.”

Remus dropped the sponge cake onto the grass, just missing the plate, “Wh.. Sorry?”

Already Sirius’ chest was warming at the thought. The burning desire to have Remus’ palm against his almost scared him, “I could teach you. To dance. You said you knew of the Summer’s Waltz.”

“Knew of. As in can’t actually do it.” Remus’ neck was flushed with unsureness.

“Yes,” Sirius drew out the word, pushing himself up, dusting his hands off on his pants, and then offering one to Remus, “And I could teach you. As in assist you until you know it.” He added the last part playfully.

Remus just looked up at Sirius, eyes raking up and down his figure and then flicking momentarily down to his own, “I’m not wearing shoes.”

Sirius considered this, then looked down. He glanced up at Remus repeatedly, smirking at the shocked expression on his face as he undid his own boots, letting the grass cool his feet. He held out his hand once more, “Neither am I.”

Remus couldn’t describe that feeling in his chest as he slowly reached out and pressed his fingers around Sirius’. It was delight. It was want. It was dread.

“You’re very persistent.” Remus grumbled.

Sirius pulled Remus up, smiling at the soft noise Remus made with the effort. The smile wavered at just how perfect the weight of Remus’ palm felt in his. He frowned slightly at their hands. He didn’t know why he was so persistent. He didn’t know why he wanted to teach Remus to dance. He looked over his shoulder, at the blurry lights of the party. He knew why he didn’t want to ask Anthea to dance. Because she was rude, and she was ghastly, and she gnawed on her lip in an attempt to be flirtatious. He turned back to Remus, eyes falling on their hands and then his face. Remus looked nervous, and he was biting his lip, but this time it made Sirius’ chest seize up. Sirius let out a breath.

Alliances must be made, Sirius.

He knew he shouldn’t want this. He’d learned… he’d thought he’d learned to control it. He’d flirted with the servant girls, even taken some of them back to his room in an attempt to prove a point, more to himself than others. He’d liked it, being with them, but he hadn’t… enjoyed it. Not exactly.

But he wanted to teach Remus to dance. He wanted to hold his hand.

And he was a prince. Why shouldn’t he have, at least for a moment, what he wants?

He realized he had been standing there far to long only when Remus started to clear his throat and pull away.

“Um. If you’ve changed your mind-“

“No.” Sirius said quickly, “No. No, I haven’t I was just-“ He was caught off guard momentarily as Remus stopped attempting to extract his hand and it settled comfortably back into Sirius’, “I was just planning.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “Planning?”

Sirius took a step forward, “Of sorts. Now,” Sirius took Remus’ other hand and pressed it gently to the shoulder of his arm not holding Remus’ other hand, “I’ll lead, so you’ll have to be the girl.”

Remus kicked Sirius’ shin and Sirius let out a loud fall of laughter, delighted that the joking side of Remus was back.

“Okay,” he cleared his throat as his laughter died down, “And I have my hand,” he tried to ignore the thrumming of his heart as he pressed his other hand to the small of Remus’ back, “here.” They were so close now that Remus stumbled forward, stepping on Sirius’ bare toes. He flushed but said nothing of it.

“Good?” Sirius said softly, looking down at Remus. He could feel the puffs of his breath against his neck and swallowed.

Remus looked up at him quickly, like he was taking a risk, and then straight again, eyes level with Sirius’ lips, “Good.” He coughed a little, “Next step?”

Sirius smiled, “You make it sound like we’re in the kitchen, cooking something.”

Remus flashed his eyes up again, lingering a little longer this time, and offering a smile of his own. He adjusted his hand and it ended up pressed closer to Sirius’, “Is it really that different?”

Sirius tried not to tighten his grip, “Suppose not, no…”

“So? Steps?”

Sirius jolted a little, “Yes- Yes. Yes, steps. Right.”

It was easier than Sirius had expected. Remus followed carefully and precisely for the most part, having an easier time of it once Sirius told him to step forward whenever he stepped back and vise versa. They laughed a little at small mistakes, but other than that it was only Sirius murmuring soft instructions and counting under his breath, a sound only accompanied by the settling wind in the trees. Sirius savored the way their eyes followed each other, the way only their wrists touched when the spun, and how they came back together nearly seamlessly.

Finally, Sirius lifted their hands up, pressing their fingers together until they were palm against palm, practically nose to nose, the final movement. Remus was looking at him this time, chin having to tilt upwards a little, lips parted.

“Like that?” He could feel Remus’ uneven breathing.

“Yes.” Sirius was sure his was the same. He almost couldn’t focus on the words. Remus’ hand was smooth, with a few working callouses littering the crest of his palm. His eyes were golden in the nearly faded light. “Just like that.”

Just like that. Just like that Sirius felt it in every cell of his body. His heart pumped it through his veins, his mind sparked it through his limbs. He wanted to kiss Remus. He wanted to so badly.

He stepped back, and the want dragged like a hook in his chest, attempting to drag him painfully forward once more.

“Just like that.” Sirius bent to pull his shoes back on, to hide the rapid rising of his chest, the flush on his neck, the panic and need in his eyes.

“Oh.” Sirius could see the way Remus’ now empty hand was opening and closing a few times, stretching the fingers out, “Well. Maybe once more-“

“I should probably get back to the party.” He needed a moment. Just a moment away, to regain his composer.

“Oh.” The hurt in his voice was overpowering, “Right. ‘Course you do.”

Sirius straightened, eyes almost pleading, “Not like that.” Please don’t be angry with me.

Remus turned back around sharply from where Sirius hadn’t realized he’d turned away, “Not like what?” His tone was almost… hopeful.

Sirius had never felt so conflicted in his life. The party lights were no longer beautiful, instead they felt like they were burning into the back of his neck. He wanted to stay here, in the cool, softness of this clearing with Remus. Maybe the so-called powers could trap them there, together.

He rushed forward, closing the few steps between them and took Remus’ hand again, pressing it between his own. If he had to go back to the party, he at least needed this.

“Come to the lake tomorrow. The one on the south grounds. Can you manage? At noon.”

When Remus nodded Sirius felt a wild relief. He very well could have kissed him again.

“Say it back so I know you’ll remember.”

Remus blinked. How on earth could he forget? He said it anyway, “Lake. South grounds. Noon.”

“Tomorrow.” Sirius repeated urgently.

“Tomorrow.” Remus repeated once more, standing there until Sirius disappeared into the crowd of royals, hand warm and heart thumping.

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

The Kitchens

part ii

There wasn’t a time Sirius loved more than the beginning of summer. The promise of days and days of sun ahead of him. And, perhaps more so, the fact that those days were free of lessons and completely his—for the most part—to do with whatever he pleased. And there was also the parties. Sirius hated his family, that was true, but he couldn’t say he minded the connections, the money.

He laughed to himself. James would have smacked him right about now.

He had called for some food and blankets to be laid out by the swimming hole just off to the left of the castle for him and Regulus, only Regulus had yet to show. Sirius had spent the first hour waiting, but now floating lazily on his back. Regulus was making a habit of ditching Sirius lately. He wished he could call his younger brother pompous and call it a day but the hurt prickled inside of him like an unreachable itch. Sirius sighed, kicking out into the middle of the water. At least the sun hadn’t disappointed.

He’d asked James to come—he probably would have had loads more fun that way— but it was his day off. And Sirius knew, even as James sent him a guilty smile, that he didn’t stand a chance. Not when—what was her name again? Lily, Lily who worked as a housemaid, yes. Not when Lily was going to be at the pub in town. Sirius had waved him off. He didn’t want James to think he could, or ever would, make him stay. The truth was that James was his first and only friend. And Sirius was his employer. They were friends, of course, but work came first. Sirius was a prince first in James’ mind no matter how much he insisted against it. And he had insisted.

Apparently it was a prince’s job to swim and spend the summer alone. Of course, his mind did flash briefly to someone… but it was probably his day off too. Sirius would probably ruin it with some snide, accidental comment anyhow. His mother’s voice chided him in his head: Ghastly, Sirius, to be hanging about with that lot. Positively ghastly.

Sirius groaned, flipping into the water and kicking downward towards the muddy bottom.

~

The kitchen was burning. He’d been happy to have the room to himself, having finally convinced James and the others that he’d rather stay in—he really did want to try out the chocolate cake recipe Mrs. Potter had found for him even if James didn’t buy it—up until he’d gotten the ovens going. The coals felt like they were right on his neck. But he stayed, throwing all the windows open and mixing and cutting and whisking until it was a pleasant temperature with a cool breeze. The smell of summer and chocolate was a match made in heaven. He hummed to himself absentmindedly as he checked the recipe card, running his finger down the slightly heat smudged ink. As he stirred and checked, stirred and check, his mind went elsewhere, as it often did when he was baking.

Sirius hadn’t stayed long after Remus had found him the biscuits. He’d eaten one, and they’d sat there, next to each other, Remus trying to pretend he wasn’t staring, Sirius trying to pretend he wasn’t catching him.

A prince, Remus had told himself, Get out now, push it down, leave it be. Forget.

That had been Remus’ method for years. With the grocery boy in his home town, with the baker’s son in the village for a time being, even with James for brief period when he’d first got here—he’d gotten over that one quickly.

He had tried to deny this one, but honestly, his breath had caught the second Sirius crouched down next to him by the fire. That was not what he had been expecting. He wasn’t saying Sirius was perfect. He was clearly not a man of both worlds. He was slightly obnoxious, slightly oblivious, slightly pompous, and, possibly, slightly attractive. Note the slightly. But he was kind. Remus saw it in the smiles that slipped through. He was born into the obnoxious, oblivious, pompousness, but the kindness was his own. Remus had overheard his mother—the queen—giving Mrs. Potter instructions for a banquet before. Yes, the kindness was all Sirius. Remus’ stirring had slowed into a lazy motion that he was no longer conscious of. He frowned out the window. And Sirius would catch himself. Repeatedly. He watched him realize what he had said and look sorry for it. Comments like that were burned into him but he was slowly realizing. Maybe he had James to thank for that, but Remus had a sneaking suspicion it was Sirius’ realization as well.

“Always alone.”

Remus whipped his head around, only just managing to keep his bowl on the table, and let out a breathless laugh. He was met with a smiling, rather wet Sirius.

“That’s the third time. I’m starting to think you like doing that.”

Sirius walked in, his shirt sticking in patches to his damp skin. Remus swallowed, dragging his eyes back to Sirius’ face, “Can I get you anything?”

Sirius heaved himself onto a stool across from Remus, eyeing his bowl, “No, I don’t think so… Thought everyone would be at the pub. I just… didn’t want to go upstairs.”

Remus started whisking again, adding a few sifts of flour to thicken the chocolate paste, “No?”

“My mum’s planning a party. First of the summer’s, it’s-”

“Summer’s Eve.” Remus finished, shooting Sirius a smile.

Sirius set him a lopsided grin, “Right. Right, you’d know about that…”

“Always liked watching the dancing.”

Sirius worried his lip, eyebrows pulling together, “Yeah?”

“‘Course.”

Sirius picked up an egg, holding it between his palms, “How long have you been here?”

Remus leveled off some sugar, crushing some clumps with his fingers, “I think its about a year now.”

Remus looked over the measuring cup when Sirius simply hummed, only to find him staring back at him.

“Funny, that we’ve never met.” Sirius said after a moment.

Remus raised an eyebrow, dumping the sugar in, “Not really.”

Sirius huffed out a laugh, “Yeah. Yeah, not really..”

Remus looked away from Sirius’ smile, swallowing over the heat bubbling in his chest. He was suddenly very aware at just how filthy his apron was. Not to mention his shirt. He glanced quietly at the hole in his left shoe toe.

“Why aren’t in town, anyway? I figured everyone would be at the pub. This place is deserted. Well, except for you.”

Remus cut a slab of soft butter, smoothing it around the bottom of the pan with his knife, and tried to shrug as casually as he could, “Dunno. Don’t like the pub much.”

“Why? Everyone likes the pub.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “How would you know?”

Sirius straightened, eyeing Remus, “Everyone seems to like the pub. Or really, I guess everyone just seems to like the girls there.”

Remus laughed, “True.”

Remus saw Sirius lean forward on his elbows in his peripheral vision, “Don’t you like a girl there? Or here? Someone to go with.”

Remus felt the familiar discomfort at this question rising in his stomach, “No,” he cleared his throat, crumpling some parchment paper in his fist, “No, not particularly.”

“No?” He heard something, something in Sirius’ voice. He couldn’t tell what it was, but he feared the worst.

“Not at the moment, I mean. I’m sure I’ll- I’m sure there’s someone. Just- I’m just waiting for- that someone.” He sounded idiotic and he knew it.

“Oh. Of course. That must be nice.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “Being alone?”

Sirius looked up at him from where his gaze had been focused on the egg he was holding. His eyes were sad and honest, “Being able to choose.”

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “Oh.”

Remus threw everything he had into squashing the feeling that was rising in his chest. Of course. He’s a prince. You know your place and it isn’t with… It can never be with-

Sirius shook his head a little, pushing his wet hair off his forehead so it stick up in the front. He offered Remus a small smile, “You must be just loving this. Listening to me complain. You probably think I have the whole world and yet here I am..”

Remus scoffed, snapping out of it and pouring the batter into the pan over the parchment paper, “That’s an awfully big assumption.”

Sirius sighed, rolling the egg on the table, eyes following it as it changed directions on its own, “Yes. You’re right.”

He was much more willing to admit Remus was right today.

Remus turned back around from pushing the cake into the oven, dusting flour off his hands, “Do you even know how to cook that?”

“Nope.”

Remus smiled, “That’s pathetic.”

Sirius jolted up at that, “I beg your-“

“Sorry.” Remus was still smiling.

Sirius’ eyes were narrowed but Remus could see the smile that was threatening to show itself.

“Can you do the Summer’s Waltz?”

Remus blinked, “What?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “Can you?”

“Well, no-“

“Exactly.”

Remus stared at him for a few moments, “I’m lost.”

“I’ve no reason to know how to cook an egg, so I can’t. You can. You’ve no reason to know the Summer’s Waltz, so you can’t. But I do, so I can.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “Yes, alright, very clever.”

Sirius smiled. Remus turned to the oven with one of his own. The flames seemed less bright that that smile.

Get out now, push it down, leave it be.

Remus took a deep breath. Forget.

“Am… Am I bothering you?”

Remus turned to Sirius once more, rather too quickly, “Hm? What?”

Sirius actually looked a little sheepish, “It’s just… I realized I just sort of… came in. You were alone. I don’t know-“

“No.” Again, too quickly, “No,” Remus cleared his throat, “You’re fine. I mean- I mean to say you- I mean, of course you can be here. You’re you.”

Sirius’ brows pulled together, corners of his mouth turning down, “That’s not what I meant.”

Remus took a shaky breath. Of course you’re fine, I want you here, “I know. Sorry. I don’t mind you being here. I’m just testing recipes…”

Sirius seemed to relax a little and got up, spying the recipe card on the table, “But you bake every other day of the week…”

Remus was very aware that Sirius was right next to him, and very aware that he hadn’t bathed that morning, “Well… I like chocolate.”

Sirius looked at him.

Remus motioned to the oven, “I never get to bake for myself. I like chocolate, I made chocolate cake.”

Sirius was quiet, just nodding and looking so intently at Remus that he felt his cheeks start to heat.

“It will be ready soon… If you-“

“Yes.”

Remus almost laughed at the quick response, “Alright…”

The lapsed into a silence. Remus alternating between watching the cake and watching Sirius, and Sirius alternating between rolling the egg and watching Remus.

Remus poked fun at Sirius when he watched in (almost) awe as he took the cake from the oven, and nearly hit him when he recounted how different it looked without all the dressings and plates.

“Absolutely ridiculous…” Remus muttered under his breath.

“Can we…”

Remus looked up when Sirius trailed off. Sirius’ hair was dry now and slightly fluffy around his ears from the heat, and with the way his cheeks were heating up Remus took a step back. Because he didn’t look royal right then, in his fluffy hair and bare feet. He looked normal. He looked attainable.

No one you look at is attainable.

“Can we..?” Remus prompted.

Sirius straightened, “Can we eat it like this?”

Remus blinked and his mouth slowly formed a smile, “Had too much of proper life, have you?”

Sirius shot him a look and Remus sat down and dug his fingers into the cake, taking a rather large chunk out of the side. Sirius grinned almost impishly and pulled a stool over next to Remus, taking a chunk from the other side.

“My god.” He said, “This is fucking brilliant.”

“The eating method or the cake?” Remus said through cake.

“Both.” Sirius sighed, “Can’t remember liking dessert this much in a long time.”

“Excuse you!” It came out sounding more like hue hu! and Remus swallowed, “I make that dessert.”

Sirius held his hands up in mock surrender, “I think it’s good and all, don’t get me wrong. I’ve just… I don’t know.” He was quiet for a moment and then, “Maybe the company makes the meal.”

Remus started, blinking at Sirius. He had chocolate on his upper lip, his hair was still fluffy, his cheeks were even more pink than before. And Remus could feel the tug. The familiar, forbidden tug.

“I-“ He was out of his seat before he knew what he was doing, chair screeching back against the slate floor painfully, “Um.”

Sirius stood too, “Remus..“

Remus couldn’t decide if it was a plea or a question. He wanted to stay. God, Sirius had only said his name and he wanted to staystaystay.

“You can have the rest of the cake. I’ve just remembered-” His mind drew a blank to any excuse he could have made.

And he was gone, leaving Sirius alone in the kitchen with half a cake and a frown.

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

The Kitchens

Sirius and Remus: A king and a commoner from two different worlds who will break all the rules for love.

Part i

(This has been mostly re-written from previous posts and this is how I will be continuing the story from here on out!)

Sirius set out for the West parlor, wondering if maybe he could sleep a while on one of the couches. His bare feet were cool against the July-warmed stone, even at night. He wished he could enjoy this more, like he usually did, with the absence of prying eyes. But his head ached, spinning with thoughts of the ever-looming events that summer’s end promised. There were fall’s many festivals, hunting trips. And among these things, the promise of a bride. He’d be eighteen in November. He’d known what eighteen meant for as long as he could remember. It was inevitable, a pressing weight on his chest. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head: Alliances are needed, Sirius. You’ll be a king one day and you’ll need a powerful Queen at your side. And besides, fall weddings are lucky.

Sirius rubbed at his eyes, huffing as he turned blindly into the room he knew to well, only to find it bathed in a soft warm glow, not dark and quiet like he’d expected. He let his hand drop to his side, taken off guard by the light-soaked walls, and he froze. Because there was a boy there. His heels were coming out of his shoes as he crouched over the softly roasting coals of the beginning of one of the Black castle’s many fires. Sirius realized too late that he’d been standing there too long to make any sort of proper introduction.

Of all the words in his grand vocabulary, his mind decided to settle on, “Oh.”

The boy jumped. He went to stand up too fast and ended up thumping his head painfully against the brick under edge of the fireplace. Sirius cursed at the same time the boy did.

“Christ James, I told you to do the East Wing-“

The boy spoke at the same time that he turned. He cut off just as he saw Sirius.

“Oh.” He inhaled sharply, eyes widening for a fraction of a second, “My Lord. I didn’t realize…”

And Sirius watched it happen, just as it always did. He watched the boy’s back straighten, he watched the front go up.

Sirius huffed, annoyed. He made his way around the sofa slowly, fingers trailing against the plush fabric as he did, “Didn’t realize I’d be in my own castle?”

The boy frowned. He looked like he wanted to narrow his eyes but thought better of it, “Not at these hours. My Lord.” He added the last part hastily, half-heartedly, and a bit heatedly.

“I’d ask you the same question.” Sirius did narrow his eyes. He was allowed to.

The boy looked like he was biting his tongue before he spoke, “I was to light the fires this morning, my Lord.”

Sirius froze, expression flickering, “Morning?”

The boy glanced out the window briefly, “Morning, my Lord.”

Sirius followed his eyes, only to see that it was morning. He blinked at the dawning sky, the world still pink, and cleared his throat, “Oh.”

“Have-“ The boy hesitated until Sirius looked back at him. His expression slightly softer but guarded still, “have you been out all night? Around the castle? My Lord.”

Sirius hesitated, then sighed, rubbing his face, “You don’t have to add that after every sentence.” He pressed his thumbs into his eyes, as if trying to rub the fatigue out, before looking back at the boy. He had flour on his cheek, a bit of ash on his temple.

“Yes.” He looked back out the window, “I guess so.”

He didn’t think he’d been walking all night and yet there was the sun, peaking over the mountains.

The boy crouched down, scraping the iron fire poker back up and prodding at the coals with it, “Sometime on your mind, my Lord?”

Sirius felt annoyance flare up again, “I said-“

But he stopped, words catching in his throat. He shouldn’t admit it—really he couldn’t admit it—not out loud anyways—but, now that he was looking, really looking, the boy was a bit of a beautiful sight. Maybe it was just the firelight, or lack of sleep, but the thought sprang to the front of Sirius’ mind so quickly he just… thought it.

He shifted, clearing his throat, “No.” He meant to turn away, maybe leave, but instead he sat down, “No. I simply lost track of time.”

The fire light made the boy’s eyes look like a a pot of melting amber when he turned towards Sirius, expression forwardly quizzical, “Yes, my Lord.”

Sirius frowned, “Do you not know my name?”

The boy raised an eye brow, “My Lord?”

“Do you not. Know my name.” Sirius repeated, “Is that why you refuse to use it, even upon my request?”

It was still quite dark, but Sirius could have sworn the boy flushed. He turned back to poking the fire.

“You know, you aren’t doing that right.” Sirius continued when he still didn’t answer.

The boy kept poking, not looking away, “I’m not usually in charge of the fires.” He mumbled.

Sirius leaned forward, “No, you see, they aren’t going to stay alight like that. Didn’t you- no, stop, stop.” Sirius swiftly moved to crouch next to the boy, putting his hand over his on the poker, “Watch. You need it to be…” He guided their hands to push the embers towards the center, “Like such. That way the smoke goes up and the heat goes out. See now?”

“I… Yes. How did you…”

Sirius shrugged, “It’s from hunting trips, really. Probably the only useful survival skill I know. Proves I’m not completely helpless.”

“That’s not what James says.”

Sirius did his best to look aghast but it ended as more of a smile, surprising himself, “That’s how you address your superiors?”

The boy looked like he was trying not to smile too, “A moment ago you were begging me to call you Sirius.”

Sirius turned sharply away from the coals, taken off guard. He tightened his grip on the iron. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard his name from a servant’s mouth before. James, his valet, called him Sirius. He had just never heard his name quite like that. Soft, gentile. The way this boy said it… it almost made him sound like a good person.

Sirius continued with the fire, “So the truth is out. You do know my name.”

The boy wrapped his arms around his knees, watching the coals. His sandy hair flopped nicely into his eyes, “Everyone in the world probably knows your name.”

Sirius laughed softly, and he found that it lightened the heavy feeling in his chest considerably, “Well. I think you’re sorely misjudging the size of the world.”

The boy looked at him, features extraordinarily soft in the firelight. Sirius’ heart caught.

“That wouldn’t surprise me.” He said quietly, “It isn’t like I’ve seen any of it.”

“S’not that great, really.” Sirius said softly. It was, but Sirius wasn’t about to say that. He cleared his throat instead, “Well, there’s the fire for you-“

He cut himself off again, this time with a curse. He tumbled back on his heels, the poker clattering to the floor, his left hand burning.

“Fuck-“ He unclenched his fist, seeing an angry red mark already forming across his knuckles.

The boy cursed, “Shit, the coals. I forgot to put the gate up- one rolled out- I- your highness-“

“I’m fine,” Sirius grit his teeth, “It’s just a little hot, I-“

“Oh come off it, that’s more than a little hot-” The second the words were out of the boy’s mouth his eyes were wide, “Oh god. I-“

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the your highness, at the horror on the boy’s face when he’d slipped and spoken to Sirius like a normal person.

The boy pressed his lips together, the hollows of his cheeks pink. He directed his gaze to Sirius’ injured hand, “We should really get something for that.”

Sirius nodded, “You can rouse Pomfrey for me.”

The boy stood, “I think I can help you, actually… if you like.” He offered Sirius a hesitant hand.

Sirius took it. He didn’t even think about it, he just let this boy pull him up, cradling his injured one to his chest, “I don’t even know your name.”

The boy arched an eyebrow, “I’m sure I can help either way.”

Sirius stretched his knuckles hesitantly, then flinched, “What’s your name?” He asked again.

The boy’s face fell a fraction, and Sirius suddenly realized he had been trying to be friendly, maybe funny even, and Sirius had taken it for disrespect.

“Remus.” He said shortly, “It’s Remus.” He turned, leading the way out of the room.

“Like the myth?” Sirius followed him.

“What myth?”

“The Roman one. With the wolf. The founding of Rome, surely you know it.”

Remus glanced behind him, “Sorry, no.”

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows, “Didn’t you learn it in school?”

Remus raised an eyebrow as Sirius fell into stride with him, “You’re assuming I went to school.”

Sirius’ steps faltered, “I- oh.”

“Not all of us grow up in castles, not to mention princes.”

Sirius glanced at Remus’ profile as they walked down the servant’s staircase. It was hard to read. He’d been the one trying to lighten the mood that time and, once again, they’d misunderstood each other.

“I didn’t mean any offense.” Sirius offered.

Remus sent him a small smile, “And yet…”

Sirius suddenly felt very aware of his words, his accent, even his attire, all in comparison to Remus. He felt overdressed in his maroon robe, the gold embroidery feeling flashy and unnecessary next to Remus’ plain white shirt, littered with stains from work.

Remus shook his head gently at him as they entered the kitchen, “I’m joking. It’s alright, you didn’t know.” he nodded towards the countertop, “sit there.”

Sirius rubbed at the back of his neck, “I suppose I should have known…” His eyes widened, “I mean-“

Remus rolled his eyes, “Sit.”

“-not that I would assume you didn’t have an education-“

“Sit, Sirius.”

Sirius pushed himself up onto the counter, silently kicking himself. Silently relishing the way Remus said his name. He watched wordlessly as Remus set ingredients out on the counter next to him. Honey, and a lemon.

“Well… this is odd.”

Remus looked at Sirius, “You’ve never seen this before?”

Sirius shook his head.

Remus smirked, slicing the lemon in half effortlessly, barely even glancing down, “Well, you’re obviously not learning everything with that education of yours, are you?”

Sirius straightened a little, almost prepared to snap a retort, but he caught onto the joke this time—just barely. Sirius looked away but smiled.

Remus held his palm out, “Give your hand here.”

Sirius glanced nervously at the lemon, “Won’t that hurt?”

Remus huffed out a laugh, and held out his hand more insistently, “What do you think the honey’s for? It will only sting for a moment…”

For the second time that night, Sirius relinquished his hand.

Sirius watched Remus’ brow furrow as he gently pressed the the cross section of the lemon across Sirius’ slightly blistered knuckles. Sirius hissed, then tried to turn it into a cough. He pointedly ignored Remus’ smirk.

Remus’ fingers were cool against the irritated skin around the burn, and Sirius drew his lip between his teeth as Remus carefully smeared a bit of honey over the aching cut. The thick paste relieved the throbbing to a duller pain.

“Christ.”

Remus wiped his hands on a kitchen rag, “More useful than a Roman myth, huh?”

Sirius scoffed, “I apologized.”

“Is that how world affairs are settled then? Apologies?” Remus smiled, producing a bandage from the same cupboard the honey had come from. His long fingers worked nimbly as he wraps Sirius’ hand.

“This is hardly a worldly affair..” Sirius said under his breath. Remus glanced at Sirius, looking at him flatly, then sighed, finishing the wrap.

“There. If it starts to hurt again, I- or I mean Madame Pomfrey can-“

“I’ll find you if it hurts.” Sirius’s mouth said it before he could think on it, and he slid from the counter.

Remus nodded slowly, “Oh. Right.”

Sirius drummed his fingers on the countertop, looking down at Remus, “Right.”

Remus glanced around Sirius nervously, “People will probably be waking soon.”

Sirius nodded, although he hadn’t really heard what Remus had said. They were standing quite close, “Right.”

Remus seemed a bit breathless when he spoke again, “We have to prepare your breakfast…”

Sirius arched an eyebrow, “Do you prepare the breakfast?”

Remus huffed out a laugh, “I prepare your breakfast.”

Sirius blinked, “Really?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder, “When you take it in your room at least. Which is-“

“-most days.” Sirius finished. He cocked his head slightly, “But how do you know?”

Remus shook his head, confused, “Know?”

“That I’m having it upstairs.”

Remus paused for a moment, as if waiting for Sirius to continue, or to laugh. Then his eyebrows raised very high to his hairline and he let out a burst of laughter, “Honestly?”

Sirius stepped back a step, cheeks heating, “What?”

Remus quickly stopped laughing, noticing Sirius’ offended gaze, “No- No, I’m sorry,” His eyes filled with something that looked like dissapointment. Sirius felt that same emotion stirring in his chest, although he didn’t quite know why, “It’s just… you really don’t know how we work down here, do you?”

Sirius shuffled uncomfortably, trying not to jostle his hand too much, “Well…” He tried to think of some excuse, shrugging, “When I come down here everyone stops working to ask what I want.”

“They’re suppose to do that.” Remus points out.

“Yes, but that explains why I don’t know how it works.” Sirius spluttered.

Remus smiled, “Fine, fine… Lord, I’m sitting here arguing with a Prince… James tells me.”

Sirius, fully prepared for a defense again, deflated some, “Oh.” He contemplated for a moment, “Well, I guess I should have thought of that.”

Remus shrugged, eyes teasing, “I guess.”

Sirius found he much preferred this boy to look at him like that than how he had just been, “Education… Education’s not everything, I suppose.”

When Remus smiled shyly at his own words being reflected back at him, Sirius felt something, some wall, crack a little. He smiled.

There was a creak from the floorboards above causing both boys to look up, then back down at each other. They were nearly nose to nose, and Sirius quite enjoyed that he had to look down a bit to meet Remus’ eyes.

“I- you may want to go.”

Sirius nodded. The thought of being surrounded by bustling activity, having to answer why he was down here in the first place, was suddenly very unappealing, “Yes. I should. I-“

The stared at each other, unsure of what to say.

“Well. Thank you… for the honey. Not for the burn.” He nodded shortly, not moving away just yet.

“Oh. Yes.” Remus was breathless again, eyes fixed on Sirius, “Thank you for… the myth. Not for the condescension.”

When he was safe in his room again, the sun peaking through the seam in his dark, heavy curtains, Sirius couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed his face; at the eyes that filled his thoughts, at the boy in the kitchen, at the eggs he woke up to a few hours later.

~

“Sirius, you have dinner in a half hour. And it isn’t you your mum kills if you’re late, its me, so, please, if we could just-“

Sirius looked up from the hot water surrounding him to where James was leaning against the doorway, making frantic hurry up motions.

“James, I am naked and thoroughly enjoying my bath so if you could stop staring at me. Also, I don’t know if that statement is entirely correct… I recall being murdered quite a few times. Pass me that cloth, would you?”

James rolled his eyes, reminding Sirius with a pang of his late night run in from just a few hours ago, and more threw it at him.

Sirius glared, “I can have you fired. Turned out of the castle.”

James glared, lying down on the plush bench along the bath, feet by Sirius’ head.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “For that too.”

James laughed at the ceiling, hands behind his head, eyes closed, “Yes, but you won’t.”

Sirius grinned, then hissed as his burned hand touched the hot water. James raised an eyebrow.

“What happened there, anyway?”

Sirius started, making a show of soaking the towel and squeezing the excess water out, “Oh. Just a burn. Some clumsy-one of your lot didn’t know how to handle the tea.”

James scoffed, “Well, that wasn’t rude at all.”

Sirius blinked, then sank further into the water, sighing, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

James sighed, closing his eyes again, “I know, don’t worry.”

“You seem to be the only one that does…” He grumbled under his breath, images of disappointed and disapproving amber eyes crossing his mind.

James peaked one eye open, “Huh?”

Sirius let the cloth go and watched it slowly sink to the bottom of the large tub, “Nothing.”

James looked at him for a moment longer, but knew better than to push. Instead, he stood, snagging a large towel and laying it in his place on the bench, “I’m getting your dinner clothes ready. You’ve had long enough, get out.”

“Yes, mum.”

“Don’t insult me.” James called over his shoulder.

~

Sirius, despite the torment, sat perfectly still through dinner. He felt like a caged animal that had been trained to do so—especially with guests around which, given the fact that they were the royal family, there was always the nobles and some duke and duchess from god knows where around to dine with. He listened his mother talk politics, he watched his father talk politics—if not in a slightly more slurred fashion and into his whiskey glass. He watched his brother, Regulus, sit there silently, glaring at his food as if it had personally offended. He was only glad his cousins weren’t in town. Well, maybe Andromeda. She never was the worst of the lot at least.

He wished for probably the thousandth time in his life that James could sit at the dinner table with him, or that maybe he could sit at James’ dinner table. He almost didn’t care that it was with the rest of the servants—no. No, he didn’t care. He glared at his mother, shoving a piece of duck into his mouth. He knew he had her to thank for those elitist slip-ups.

As if this wasn’t torment enough, his hand positively ached. Remus’ remedy had long washed off in the bath, and with the dry cotton wrap rubbing against it every time he cut his food, it felt like there was a coal being pressed against his skin all over again. Highly distracting. He told himself he would go to Pomfrey after dinner, perhaps skip dessert for it all together.

That’s what he told himself he would do.

When the time came for puddings and cakes he stood, scraping his chair back and pointedly ignoring his mother’s look.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

He waved his hand dismissively, “Some idiot servant burned me with tea this morning,” The slur rolled as effortlessly off his tongue as the lie did, “I’m going to seek Pomfrey.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, only for a man to open the dining room doors for him. He swept through the halls, hand cradled to his chest, with the full intention of making his way to the castle infirmary. His found his feet straying, however. He took a turn, trotting down the staircase he had taken the previous night, not realizing where he was or what he was doing until he was already hovering in the doorway.

~

Remus all but collapsed onto the stool by the large island, letting the heat still radiating from the kitchen fireplace warm the aching muscles of his back.

“Well, that sorts it then,” Mrs. Potter, the cook, rubbed her hands together, dusting flour residue from then, “Another dinner done right, Remus, hm?”

Remus gave her a tired, half smile, “Right.”

“Splendidly done, of course!” James entered the kitchen, carefully avoiding the various things dusting the table—he was still in his valet tails—as he took the stool next to Remus, leaning over to press a kiss to his mum’s cheek, “Please tell me you saved some-“

Remus pushed a plate of three Walnut cookies towards him. James all but growled.

“You’re a saint.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “Not quite.”

“I believe he was talking to me.” Mrs. Potter chuckled kindly, “I’m off for some tea and then bed. Remus, make sure that fire is out properly before you go up, yeah?”

Remus nodded, accepting a half of cookie James broke off for him. He watched her kiss her son and then exit, chewing in silence.

Remus felt the question rise back to the tip of his tongue, the one he’d almost asked at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Only it was ten times stronger now that he and James were alone.

He cleared his throat, “Um. James?”

“Hm?” James took another cookie, offering half to Remus again who shook his head this time.

“Is… Is the prince…”

James arched an eyebrow when Remus trailed off. 
Remus huffed, “What’s he like exactly?”

James snorted a little, smiling and popping another bit into his mouth, “What do you think he’s like?”

“Rather rude.” Remus said before he could stop himself, “I- I just mean. He doesn’t understand much, does he?”

“About us? God, no.” He shook his head, “Barely realizes the things he says sometimes… I suppose that’s where the rudeness would come in.”

Remus nodded, silently begging James to go on. He didn’t know why he was so curious but he’d practically had to will himself to sleep last night, and even then it was restless. Even then a certain rude, condescending prince invaded his thoughts. He’d ended up coming down to make the bread an entire hour and a half early.

“But, that being said and all… he’s not all bad. He’s just…” James shrugged, “he’s sheltered, I suppose. Doesn’t have a clue what the real world’s like. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought everyone got their breakfast served on a silver tray in bed each day.” Remus snorted with him, “But, y’know, he treats me well. If he does say something and I correct him, it takes him a minute but he apologizes-“

“You correct him?”

James waves a hand, “We’ve been together since we were kids, I’m more than allowed.”

Remus nods. James had grown up here. He tried to imagine a younger version of the boy he’d met last night playing with a servant boy. He frowned.

“Why so curious all of a sudden?”

Remus blinked, snapping out of his thoughts, “What?”

“You’ve never asked about Sirius before.”

“Oh.” Remus shifted in his chair, “I. I just- I…” For the life of him, he couldn’t think of something to say. With James still looking at him so curiously, his shoulders deflated and he sighed, “I met him. Last night.”

James’ eyebrows raised to his hairline, “Really? How?”

“I was doing the fires in the West Parlor and he walked in—I think he’d been walking all night… And- and then I burned his hand.” Remus finished miserably.

“You burned his hand? With tea?”

Remus blinked, “What? No. He took it upon himself to show me how to do my job,” fresh annoyance bloomed in Remus’ chest, “and I forgot to shut the gate. Then I took him down hear and wrapped it for him-“

“Jesus, he didn’t mention any of this.” James laughed.

Remus stuttered for a moment, willing the disappointment that closed in, snuffing out the annoyance to dissipate. Why would he mention it? Sirius’ words echoed in his ears.

This is hardly a world affair

“Well. I-“ Remus huffed, “I just wondered what you thought. He started spewing all this shit about Roman myths and what the world was like and he practically assumed I didn’t have an education…” Not quite true, but Remus was suddenly a little furious at the prince. For depriving him of sleep, for the way he spoke, for the way he dressed, for everything he was. Everything he stood for. Everything Remus wasn’t.

James laughed again, shoving the last bit of cookie towards Remus, “Think you need this more than I do.”

“Shut up.” Remus fought the soft smile that played on his face.

James held his hands up in surrender and pushed back from the table, “Alright, alright. I’m going up. You need anything?”

Remus shook his head, “No, got most of everything done already. Just the fire. Might stay down here a while longer. Clean the counter… or something.”

James nodded, rapped his knuckles on the table twice, and set off for the stairs. Remus listened to his footsteps fade, and then leaned his elbows onto the table, head in his hands. He really should go to bed too. He’d had an even longer day than usual, but he was restless, mind working overdrive—annoyingly so.

Another set of footsteps approached from the main stairs leading to the house. He assumed it was a waiter, Peter maybe, and didn’t bother looking up, even when they stopped and hovered in the doorway.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Remus started so hard he banged his knee painfully into one of the pans hanging on a hook under the island. He spun, standing up and swaying slightly on his feet. He tried to ignore how hard his heart was racing at the sight he was met with, the person he had been thinking about since five this morning.

Sirius chewed on his lower lip before offering a small smile, “I keep doing that to you, I apologize.”

Remus finds himself unable to answer for a moment, eyes locked on stormy gray ones.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably, glancing downwards, and it is then that Remus realizes he’s holding his injured hand gingerly against his chest, the wrap he’d given him yesterday clumsily falling apart to reveal his knuckles, looking rubbed raw and worse off than before.

“I’m here fore further treatment.” He says matter of factly, spine straightening, “I’m afraid the pain has returned. Although I’m not sure it ever really left.”

Remus wanted to narrow his eyes at the tone. Sirius didn’t seem to be giving him an option in the matter. Instead, he sighed.

“Yes. Right. Um. Sit there.” He pushed the stool forward with his leg and busied himself with the honey and lemon like before, trying to ignore the fact that he could feel Sirius eyes on him. He took James’ seat, scooting it until he was close enough to rest Sirius’ hand on his knee, his knee that he realized too late was slotted rather snuggly between Sirius’ thighs. He cleared his throat, ignoring the heat that rose on his neck.

“You probably should have come sooner. The skin’s irritated now.”

“You’re the expert, you could’ve come to me.” Sirius pointed out.

“Right, okay, would that be before or after I was making your meals?”

He couldn’t help it. He slipped, the anger coming through. He didn’t look up to see it register in Sirius’ face. When Sirius didn’t retort, guilt started to set in. He rolled his neck a little, trying to stretch out his sore muscles, “Sorry.”

Sirius was silent for a moment longer, “It’s alright… You’re tired.”

Remus couldn’t help the slightly bitter laugh that escaped, “You’ve got that right. Didn’t sleep much last night.” No thanks to you.

“Oh.” Remus thinks he hears a small note of interest in his voice, surprise maybe, “Well. Hot water is relaxing. Might help. Maybe with some oils. Chamomile is-“

“That probably would help.” Remus interjected, only a little heatedly. He shouldn’t say it, he knows Sirius is just trying to help, maybe even make up for his snide comments if what James says about him is true, but he’s tired and confused and restless, “If we had hot water.”

He regrets the words the instant they’re out of his mouth. This time he does glance up at Sirius who, to his surprise, closed his eyes, a pained expression coming across his face. He breathed harshly out through his nose. Remus’ hands stills where they’re holding Sirius’ injured one.

“I don’t mean to do that, you know…”

And Remus’ heart speeds up a little. Because it sounds genuine enough. It’s sent racing when Sirius’ eyes blink back open slowly. He looks sorry, he really does.

“Yeah…I’m catching onto that I think.” Remus says softly.

Sirius’ teeth worry his bottom lip, “Yeah?”

Remus nodded, “Yeah.”

They stare at each other for a second longer, and Remus realizes with a start that his eyes have moved to his lips at the same time as Sirius clears his throat, glancing at the plate that was previously filled with walnut cookies. There’s still a bit of one, the bite Remus had never taken.

“I don’t suppose you’d have any more of those?” He asks timidly.

Remus looks down at Sirius’ hand, which is only half bandaged and tries to finish the job as quickly as he can, “Did you not just eat?”

“I skipped dessert. Hand hurt to bad. It’s really the least you could do since you were the cause of this…”

Remus jerks his head up, fully prepared to fucking bite Sirius’ head off, when he sees the smirk.

He rolls his eyes, not even bothering to feel off about it, and smirks back, “Yes, your highness.”

He’s surprised when Sirius’ face falls, and he looks down to his hand, retrieving it from Remus’ grasp quickly and cradling it back to his chest.

“Sirius.” Remus corrects himself quickly, and relief fills his chest when Sirius glances up once more, smile just beneath the surface, “And yeah, I think we have a few.”

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

Exhausted

It is truly exhausting to have nightmares every time you shut your eyes, especially for a young student. Remus Lupin was beginning to nod off for the third time this week in his lesson over the History of Magic. The subject was very interesting to the 6th year student, but it was also the first class in the morning. The riveting lecture exploring the first time unicorn hair was used by wizards failed to capture Remus’s attention. He rested his head in his hand and stared down at his book until the words began to blur together.

Regardless of his attempts to capture facts being thrown his way, the heaviness of his eyes grew. The dark thoughts weighing on his mind were not enough to distract him either. He could hear his professor’s voice floating further and further away until he was asleep.

He was standing in the middle of the woods. The air smelled thick of maple and smoke. It was suffocating but there was nowhere Remus could go. As he turned, the trees got closer to him and grew thicker until they were all he could see. It was harder and harder to take a breath and his hands reached up and tangled in his hair. He began to hear something faint. As he focused on the noise, it steadily grew louder and louder until he realized what it was. Screaming. The frightened voices overlapped each other as they surrounded him. He sat down on the cold hard ground, his head in his hands. He tried to yell to hear himself, but there was nothing over the sound of the shouts. This is when the pain began.

With a startle, his arm flinched and his head fell down and smacked the table.

The class erupted in laughter and Remus’s face turned a bright shade of red while the professor shot a stern look in his direction and continued with the lesson.

Remus rubbed his eyes and slumped down further in his seat, trying his best to read the pages in front of him to avoid sleep. He pinched his arm for the rest of the class and the bruises that were forming were worth his time if that meant he didn’t have to go back to that place. The bags under his eyes were growing and darkening each day.

His friends knew that his monthly activity was the cause of this stress and they searched constantly for a cure to help him sleep. Nobody understood why the nightmares were so bad this particular week, but that did not matter. The dreams simply needed to stop.

“I think we need to tell someone. Can’t we bring him to the hospital wing? What is the use of us if we aren’t even able to help him?” Sirius asked James and Peter in a hushed voice. It was just after supper and they were sitting in the common room next to the fireplace. Remus stepped away for a brief moment and the boys took this time to discuss amongst themselves.

“We know he needs help, but what could we possibly do?” Peter asked.

“Anything! You saw him today in class and what about us? We were all just sat there doing absolutely nothing.” Sirius was clearly frustrated.

“There was nothing we could do at the time,” James said firmly. “Maybe we should go to Dumbledore. He is here to help his students and he already knows about Remus, yeah?”

“Last time we told someone in charge, she told him to try yoga. We are just going to get the exact same bullshit response from the Headmaster and be stuck in the same position as we are now – useless,” Sirius snapped back.

“We aren’t useless, Sirius. We are trying,” Peter replied in a pleading voice.

“Trying isn’t enough! Look at how dead he looks!”

James and Peter knew better than to argue any further. They were all angry and shouting back would solve nothing.

At this moment, Remus returned to his friends. He had a forced smile plastered to his face and he tried to reassure them that there was nothing to worry about.

“Can you believe I fell asleep in class again? Must be one horrid teacher if I can’t be bothered to stay awake in his lectures,” Remus attempted to joke and waited for his friends to join in. They didn’t.

“Listen…” Peter started. “I believe that we need to talk to you about something.”

“We are just a tad wor-“ James began before Sirius interrupted him.

“You are going to die if you don’t get help immediately,” he stated firmly. Remus frowned and shook his head.

James stepped forward, attempting to defuse the sudden tension. “Maybe we should all go to the hospital wing together and see what they’ve got to say about it,” James suggested with a worried smile, motioning to himself and the two boys behind him.

“What? No, no, no…” Remus looked worried now, he began to take a few steps back. “I am honestly fine, I do not need to go anywhere. I do not need a doctor. Or anything else for that matter.”

He turned from his friends and walked briskly away.

“What the bloody hell was that about?” Peter asked sharply, turning toward Sirius.

“We are all worried about him, but you didn’t have to say he is going to die,” James scowled.

“And you know that he doesn’t like to talk about going to the doctors. This one here is on you,” Sirius snapped back.

After being bitten by a werewolf at such a young age, Remus’s parents tried everything in their power to help him. His parents brought him to every specialist and doctor they could find, searching for a cure. They did not see the fear that struck him as a result of being dragged from hospital to hospital for the majority of his childhood. Being examined and stuck with needles without fully understanding the reasoning terrified him and this fear followed him into his teen years.

Sirius knew this, but Remus was looking worse each day and he wanted to put an end to it. Sirius wanted to stop the constant laughing and teasing that Remus was receiving based on his recent behaviors in class. He wanted him to be happy and healthy again.

Sirius sat in bed that night staring at the door. He could hear Remus shuffling in his bed, tossing and turning, and knew that this would continue for the rest of the night. Sirius knew that talking to Dumbledore was the best chance they had. Even if he did provide them with some useless remedy like drinking a glass of warm milk before bed, at least the Headmaster would know why one of the brightest students had a hard time keeping his eyes open in classes.

Sirius got out of bed, making as little noise as he could. He slipped on his shoes and grabbed a sweater to wear while walking down the cold hallways.

“Where are you going?” Sirius heard a muffled whisper and turned toward it.

“Just out for a bit. Try and rest,” he told Remus, grabbed his wand under his pillow, and left without waiting for a response.

Sirius whispered Lumos and followed his light toward the office of the Headmaster. During his walk, he tried to think about what he wanted to say rather than the darkness he knew followed behind him and the corners of the castle that he didn’t want to shine his light toward.  

“Mr. Black?” a voice hissed and Sirius yelped and spun around.

“Please take your wand out of my face. What on earth are you doing wandering the halls at three in the morning?” Sirius was relieved to see Mr. Slughorn standing in front of him.

“Sorry Sir,” was all he offered back. Slughorn scoffed.

“I believe the Headmaster will want to know about you sneaking around. Yes he certainly will. What in Merlin’s beard are you even planning at such an ungodly hour? Are you wild pack of heathens about here with you?” he asked, and started toward the large office entry at the end of the hall.

Sirius gave no reply and continued to think of what he will say to Dumbledore.

“Well you don’t have to tell me anything, that is for sure. I don’t want to know anyway. You will tell the Headmaster though. I’m sure he will be just thrilled to be disturbed this late at night…” Sirius couldn’t help but notice how talkative Slughorn was so late in the night.

As they arrived outside Dumbledore’s office, Sirius had his pitch planned out nicely. He would start out by reminding him of the wonderful marks that Remus gets on his papers in class and remind the Headmaster about how kind Remus is as well as being a terrific student. Finally he would explain the problem and hope for the best.

“Can I help you?” Sirius was surprised to see that Dumbledore was already awake, and clearly pacing the floor.

“Is everything alright?” Sirius asked.

“Now, young man, you are not the one asking questions here! You-” Slughorn began to berate him.

“Quite alright, thank you,” Dumbledore smiled and dismissed Slughorn. “What can I do for you?”

Sirius opened his mouth, ready to pitch his practiced speech. However, all that came out was a sob and the plee, “Please help my friend. 

Dumbledore sat down at his desk and motioned for Sirius to take a seat in front of him.

“Remus can not sleep and he hasn’t been able to a single night since last Thursday, which was the full moon. He is clearly exhausted and he needs help. He is a great student but he is so tired all of the time,” Sirius rambled on until Dumbledore placed a hand on his, and suggested Sirius stop and take a breath. 

“I am aware of this,” Dumbledore responded softly.

“You are aware?” Sirius asked. “Can’t we help him somehow?”

“Not tonight. You should go back to bed now. He is very lucky to have such a caring friend but I do not need my students wandering the halls at night.”

“But Remus can’t sleep! He would rather be exhausted than scared and I know that because right now, he is lying there staring at the ceiling! Before he gave up sleeping altogether, he would shout in his dreams, did you know that?” Dumbledore shook his head but remained silent. “He really would! Occasionally even cry and kick! There has got to be some way to get rid of dreams. A spell, a potion, even a shitty household remedy? Yoga is a stupid idea, we already tried it but we are open for anything else!”

“Language.”

“Who bloody cares about my language when he is miserable? Did you know that he is failing his classes? He didn’t tell us that but it is obvious. Does that make you finally want to care? I have been researching this. Did you know that muggles have written all sorts of books on problems that happen when people do not sleep as much as they should! Do you know what they all lead to? He is not hea-”

“Do you stay awake with him?” Dumbledore asked.

“What?”

“I asked, do you stay awake with Remus at night. Is this when you do your research?”

“Why does that matter? Yeah I guess I do read up on it at night. I mean, how could anyone sleep with all of that rustling going on?”

“You seem to know a lot about sleepless studies. I am sure you read the part where people who are not well rested show signs of severe agitation and aggression towards those close to them?” Dumbledore asked, knowing the answer. Sirius remained silent. “Did you find that in your studies?” he asked again.

“Yes, Sir.” Sirius mumbled.

“I recommend that you sleep.”

“But- “

“Trust me.” And that was final.

Sirius shuffled back to his room, feeling defeated. As he reached his room, he kicked off his shoes and crawled under his blankets.

“You took so long, what did you do?” Remus whispered.

“Nothing. Goodnight.” 

“Night.”

The following morning, the boys walked in silence to class. Sirius planned to sit close to Remus and nudge him if he started to nod off.

“Welcome, welcome, children!” cried the professor. “Come on in and don’t bother going to your seats! I am rearranging the chart! That’s right, say farewell to your previous desk partner, I am going to shuffle a few chairs here and there. It came to my attention that this school is very house-based…” she was brand new and came from a wizard school in Germany. “It might do you all some good to sit next to someone that you didn’t know before!”

Remus found himself sitting next to a girl from Hufflepuff. “Hello,” she said to him. “I can’t imagine why she thinks we’ve all got to interact with each other.”

“No idea,” Remus shrugged. Hopefully this new girl was talkative enough to keep him awake during this class.

She was not. Like any good student, she fell silent as the professor returned to the front of the classroom and began to teach. Remus could not even form an opinion on whether or not this class was interesting because he began to fall asleep immediately. It did not last long before the screams and pain jerked him back to consciousness.

He saw eyes on him from all around the room.

“What?” he muttered, feeling his face get hot.

“I said, I would like to see you,” the voice startled him and he turned to the door. There stood Dumbledore, smiling at him fondly. “Come, please.”

Remus stood up and shuffled his papers together. His hands and knees trembled and his breath was uneven. His mind was racing. What is this about? Are they going to shout at me for falling asleep in class too many times? Am I getting thrown out of school? Will they take away my wand? His breath hitched and he dropped all of his papers.

After muttering a quick apology, he scooped up the papers and his bag and hurried out of the classroom.

“How are you feeling?” Dumbledore asked kindly.

Remus looked down at the crinkled papers, and then back up at the Headmaster. “Just fine, thank you.”

“That is good to hear.”

They walked together in silence for several minutes before Remus piped up, asking, “Sorry, Sir, but where are we going?”

There was no response and Remus’s anxiety grew heavier in his chest. He stuffed the papers in his bag, not caring if they got crinkled or ripped. He figured he wouldn’t need them after he was thrown out of school anyway.

When Remus looked up again, he was surprised to find himself in front of the school hospital.

“Hello, dear,” the nurse said, taking his bag from him and leading him toward a bed. “Come on in here and lay down here on this bed. My name is Ami.”

Remus followed slowly, starting to tremble and sweat. He repeatedly looked over his shoulder at the door. “Uhmmm, I believe I should be in cla-”

“Lay down now,” Ami sat his bag on the bedside table. “Your classes can wait. We wanted to see if you could overcome the nightmares on your own rather than relying on medicines. That didn’t work though, so we thought we would give you a hand, yeah?” she handed him a glass filled to the brim.

“What is this?” he asked nervously.

“Water, love. Drink up.” He did so. “And now this,” she handed him another glass and waited as he gulped it down with a pained expression on his face. “I know this one is a tad nastier but it’ll surely do the trick.”

She took the empty glasses from him and smiled. She was already starting to look blurry to Remus and he squinted, trying to focus. “No need to worry now. It’ll help you sleep and stay asleep!”

At that, Remus sat up quickly, trying to scramble out of bed. “Please no, I do not want to get stuck in there!” He shouted. “I can’t sleep, I can’t be trapped in that place, please don’t make me!” He rubbed his eyes viciously and scratched at his arms, trying to keep from falling asleep.

Another nurse jogged over to the bed and he grabbed Remus, holding his down firmly in place. “Now now, don’t you want to be a bit more patient there? That’s what this nasty second drink was for. No dreams for you today, love,” Ami assured him carefully.

He stopped thrashing against the man and looked from him to Ami. “No dream at all? How are you sure?”

“You are not the first to try this, darling.”

He remained tense and unsure. His eyes continued to dart from the door to his wand sticking out of his bag. The nurse saw this and did not loosen his grip on Remus.

“Aren’t you exhausted?” he asked softly. “Let yourself rest now.”

“We will stay by your side,” Ami promised. “If you look uncomfortable, we will wake you.”

Remus nodded slowly and relaxed into the pillow. He could not hold his eyes open any longer and he fell asleep immediately.

Dumbledore sighed in relief and the turned to find Sirius standing behind him. “Mr. Black, don’t you have class?”

“I told her I needed to make water,” he brushed the question away, and stood on his toes, trying to peer in on his friend.

“Mr. Lupin is just fine now. I believe you can manage to find your way back to class,“ he raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Sir. I believe I can manage,” Sirius looked at the bed and saw Remus sleeping soundly. “Thank you,” he whispered.

He turned and walked back toward his classroom, finally relaxing again.

 [Well this is the first thing I have ever written! I hope you all enjoy!]

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

Adoribull prompt: One of them is walking through a market-town and trying to avoid the vendors selling him anything. But then one vendor approaches him, dragging the other along in chains and offering a good price.

“Chief, Skinner just, uh… well… I gotta go.”

Krem ran off yelling, armor clinking.  Iron Bull let out a long breath, rolling his eye.  Everyone else had scattered the moment they’d entered the market, but he didn’t begrudge them that, not when they’d been camping in the wilderness for the last few weeks.  With the completion of their last job all their pockets were jingling with fresh coin, and it was hard not to spend it.  Iron Bull didn’t plan on buying anything here, he wanted to save his money for some drink, a new axe, and a warm bed.

“Psst.”

Keep reading

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

They made love before he left.

After the arguments - dishes shattered against the wall, hands gripping his shirt hard enough to tear the fabric, long strings of furious Tevene he couldn’t hope to ever be able to follow - they made love.

Some part of Hawke’s brain desperately tried to recall how many times. Whatever the number was, it didn’t feel like enough.

“We need to clear a path!”

The air in the Fade felt wrong. Thin, insubstantial, as if the atmosphere was being slowly and deliberately let out. Hawke’s hands were clammy, and he wondered if he imagined the cold, foul breeze that stirred his hair. A nightmare stood before them, many-eyed and terrible, reeking and hungry and full of malice, and yet a part of Hawke’s mind was fixed on the night before he had left. How many times had they made love – and why hadn’t he insisted on one more?

“Go,” Hawke heard himself say. “I’ll cover you.”

How many times - ? Fenris, oh, Fenris had been furious, but he wasn’t willing to let Hawke leave on angry words. It was Fenris who had pulled him to the bedroom.

It was Fenris who had watched his uneasy sleep.

“No,” Stroud said. “You were right. The Grey Wardens caused this.”

Hawke closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember how many times they had made love, but he could summon every detail of Fenris. The arch of his back, the ache in his voice, the electric spike of lyrium on his tongue.

“A warden must - !”

“A warden must help them rebuild!” Hawke interrupted Stroud. He felt sick. “That’s your job!”

I can’t bear the thought of living without you. Fenris had said that, once, long ago.

After swearing he wouldn’t see Hawke off, he’d met him at the door anyway, bundled in one of Hawke’s favorite shirts, with his legs long and bare and his eyes red. The dark, sleepless bags under them had been like bruises in his beautiful face. He’d looked drawn, and guarded, and haunted, the perfect bow of his lips pulled down, and when Hawke reached for him, slid his fingers along his jaw and into his hair, feeling the soft slide as he cupped his head, he had leaned into the touch.

I hate this, he spat, but he let Hawke kiss him. His arms, folded across his chest, unfurled slowly to embrace him, to hold tight as if he had known all along.

Hawke had failed.

“Corypheus is mine,” Hawke stated, and it sounded like somebody else who was speaking. He wasn’t there, no. He wasn’t standing in the fade, in the thin reedy atmosphere, body aching from the amount of magic he had used already, the nightmare’s taunts bouncing around his skull.

It was Fenris he thought of. The taste of his sweat, the sound of his laugh, the way he smiled at him under a mess of bedhead every morning over breakfast.

Fenris would mourn him. That made everything worse.

He couldn’t face the look in the Inquisitor’s eyes. He couldn’t think of someone else’s struggle right now, not when he wanted, more than anything else, just one more moment with Fenris. One more kiss. One more smile. One glimpse of snowy hair and brutally intelligent eyes.

He fixed his eyes on the nightmare, and wondered how he could face death without hearing his voice just one more time. He couldn’t remember how many times they’d made love.

This was his fault. His failure. One more thing he’d gotten wrong.

Maybe it was what he deserved.

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

Fic: Never Far From ME

on AO3

Summary: 10 years after the Inquisition, Dorian is at a party in Tevinter, and someone is definitely trying to assassinate him. They’re not even doing a very good job of it.

Excerpt: It felt like a trap. Send a servant to request his attention for some menial matter, lure him off to a remote corner of the manor, and then? Well, Dorian had enough of an imagination on him to comprehend what would happen next. He firmed his grip on his staff, his other hand going tobrush the crystal pendant at his neck. He’d been the subject of enough assassination plots to know one a mile away. No matter. He could take care of himself.

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

Ahaha this took me forever to get to (I say that like there aren’t around ten to fifteen requests hanging out in my inbox still >->) Because I have so many I decided I’d make short smutty snippet things for a while in response to requests, that way I get them done quicker. I hope that’s okay! I really wanted to do this one, thank you so much for liking that picture!!! TwT

Warnings: Monster Boyfriends AU, NSFW hostage/captive roleplay (Chris pretends to be captured by Mike and Josh and they pretend he’s some strange human, it’s roleplay but it might be upsetting to some people? So if you think it might be upsetting for you, then just don’t read it) 

This is just a snippet… like 1200 words or something.

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[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

It’s In the Dark

So I was talking to some people about Chris being a gross anime nerd and watching hentai and stuff… and this thing came about. Sinners, you know who you are. (I didn’t know if I could tag you my skype isn’t working >->)

Summary: It’s Chris’s 21st birthday and Josh gives him an awful gift in front of everybody. Chris acts completely mortified (because he is) but truth be told he kind of… sort of… really likes the gift. And it turns out Josh does too. Tentacle dildo everybody. (;-_-)ノ That’s what this is. Spoiler.

Pairing: Climbing Class

Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, frotting, the good stuff ya know?

Word Count: 5742

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[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

pure trespasser sads

What if Iron Bull didn’t die in battle after betraying the Inquisition?

Dorian comes to him in the aftermath, looking shaken. Given the pains Dorian takes to conceal the depth of any honest emotion, this means he must, in fact, be nothing short of staggered. Nearly broken. It is not a satisfying thought.

Dorian stands out of arms’ reach of the bars, not that he is truly at risk, and is quiet for a long time.

“I don’t understand,” he says eventually. “Or… Perhaps in a way I do, parts of it. But I don’t understand how you could-”

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[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

[fic] DA:I - Bitter

“Ah.”

Krem looked up at Dorian with defiant tears clinging to his lashes and blood smeared under his nose and across his cheek. He sniffed once, hard, a wet honking noise that set Dorian’s teeth on edge.

“Get inside this instant,” Dorian said. “I won’t have you bleeding on my doorstep.”

Krem jerked his head in a sharp nod and stepped inside.

The apartment was stark and austere, a style that Dorian generously thought of as Spartan and minimalistic. At times, however, he would have to admit that the scattering of IKEA furniture and bare floors spoke more of a limited budget than a deliberate design choice. But the windows were large and the view rather breathtaking, worth every penny of–

Someone sniffed and scuffed dirty sneakers across the hardwood floor.

Bleeding child. Yes.

“Sit down,” Dorian said.

Krem raised an eyebrow.

“On the floor if you must, but you are welcome to the chair,” Dorian said with a sigh.

Krem flopped down on the rug in front of the window and swiped at his nose again.

“Stop that,” Dorian said without looking over. “You’ll make it worse.”

He stepped into the bathroom and dug about for a spare washcloth. Only two, one hanging on the wall and the other draped over the tub. No medical supplies, only a lone bandage and half empty tube of antiseptic gel. Nothing that would be appropriate for tending to what waiting in his living room. Dorian sighed and grabbed the cleanest of the washcloths. Warm and wet and it would have to do.

“You need to tell him,” Dorian said and offered it to Krem.

The young boy stared out the window, knees hugged tight to his chest, tears trembling down his cheeks. “No.” He ignored the washcloth.

“You know he’ll ask.”

“Don’t tell him.”

Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not exactly my choice to make.”

Krem glared over his shoulders at Dorian and snatched the washcloth out of his hands. “Exactly.”

“What precisely did you expect when you showed up bleeding at my door?”

Krem narrowed his eyes and clutched the washcloth. Water seeped between his fingertips and soaked into his shorts. “Did somebody tell your dad?”

Dorian sucked a tight breath between his teeth, breath whistling, shoulders taut. “Yes. But this is different.”

“How?” Defiance and misery in Krem’s voice and he swallowed hard, smooth throat bobbing where an Adam’s apple should have been.

“The Iron Bull loves you,” Dorian said softly. He shuffled close and wrapped an arm around Krem’s narrow, shivering shoulders. “At worst, he’ll tell you to stop using ace wraps and to get fitted for a proper binder.”

Krem turned and shuffled and pressed his face against Dorian’s throat. “Come with me?”

Dorian closed his eyes. Smelled copper, smelled wine and sharp candles that had nothing to do with the boy. Heard his father’s voice and banished it in the same bitter echo.

“Yes.”

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

Prompt #5: Fenris/Anders - Mistakes

Established relationship kinda. Fenris and Anders have been having sex for some time, and eventually Anders confesses to falling in love with Fenris. Unfortunately Fenris rejects him, maybe even threatens him to never say that again. Anders is hurt and decides that Fenris will never see him as anything more than a mage/abomination and/or thinks Fenris is still hoping to have Hawke. He breaks it off with Fenris, immediately or after sometime but fines himself unable to continue sleeping with Fenris. Eventually Fenris realizes that his fears have cost him greatly. I leave it to A!A if Fenris manages to win Anders back or not. While I’d love a happy ending, I also wouldn’t mind a sad one. PS: I would love Dom!Fenris, especially with dirty talking, and sub!Anders.

FILL/LINK HERE: [LINK]

[niftywritingsandwhatnot]

Mix It Up a Bit

@princewarmachine‘s prize for winning the giveaway. It took so long to get to I’m sorry. T-T Classes started off stronger than I thought they would. Anyway! Here it is some ChrisxMatt You asked for them flirting at a party… this has that! Plus some angst… plus some making-out… >-> But everything is rated T and I really hope you like it!

Pairing: ChrisxMatt (what’s their ship name? Like Jacket Cinnamon Rolls?)

Warnings: Rated T for make-outs, alcohol consumption (How many times can I make Chris make-out with drunk people), drug mention, and language, it’s kind of a comfort fic I think. 

Word Count: 2307

Summary: After spending too long at a party, Chris searches for his friends to convince them it’s time to go. Upon finding Matt, the two end up in a strange conversation where Matt admits some… unusual things. In an attempt to cheer him up, Chris has them ditch the party to go do something memorable.

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