Kitayama might be taking a picture of this (mousapelli) wrote,
Kitayama might be taking a picture of this

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some fluffiness for yall

Some stuff in my english notebook that I typed up. sociofemme's comment was "so fluffy I almost expect it to start hopping around."

Sniff. I don't think it's that fluffy.

Remus found Sirius curled up in bed with a book, squinting, nose less than an inch from the page.

“Give me that,” he said in exasperation. “You’re going to do permanent damage to yourself.”

“Moony,” Sirius whined, but let Remus slide the book out of his hands.

Before Azkaban, as long as Remus had known him, Sirius had read like a fiend. At school he would stay up long past the others, reading by wandlight. Remus remembered waking up after countless nightmares to find comfort in the blue glow coming from behind Sirius’ hangings.

He was no different as an adult, littering their flat with so many read and half-read novels that Remus could have built furniture out of nothing but dog-eared paperbacks.

And now Sirius seemed determined to make up for all the reading he’d missed. He would read anything he could get his hands on, tear through books from beginning to end without stopping, read until he gave himself migraines and his eye ached and his hands were cramped into claws.

And why shouldn’t he? Remus asked himself bitterly. Not like he’s got much else to do around here.

Sirius rubbed at his eyes, wincing, and Remus sighed softly. He sat down beside Sirius and tugged on his shirt.

“Come here,” he coaxed. “I’ll read to you for awhile.”

Sirius peered at him with red-rimmed eyes and a watery smile, watching him stretch out on the bed, before carefully snuggling against Remus’ side, the permission to touch Remus again still so new that Sirius had to suppress the urge to thank him for it.

Remus kissed the top of his head lightly before opening the book to the page he’d marked with a finger and started reading in his low, soothing voice.

It wasn’t so much the story that Sirius wanted, they both knew, but the act of reading itself, the feel of the paper in his hands and the words in front of him; he had trouble concentrating on what Remus was reading, but the sounds was nice, and the warmth of Remus beside him. It reminded him of…of…

“Fifth Year,” he said out loud.

“What?” Remus asked, slightly surprised.

“I took a hex in the eyes,” Sirius murmured, the memory clarifying in his mind. “I was blind for days and bored out of my mind…and you came and read to me.”

“You remember.” Warm pleasure seeped through Remus’ chest, but he held very still, as though movement would burst Sirius’ fragile bubble of memory.

“You read to me until Pomfrey kicked you out,” Sirius continued in the same misty voice. “Then you borrowed James’ cloak and snuck back in and read to me all night. You…fell asleep on my bed…and…and…”

Sirius paused, feeling like there was another piece to the memory that was fading away from him.

“I lost my voice for a week,” Remus finished for him. “And now you’re going to say ‘That’s the moment I knew I’d love you forever, dear Moony!’ ”

“No,” Sirius answered Remus’ teasing smile, “now I’m going to say ‘You deserved it, because the hex I took was meant for you in the first place!’ ”

“You do remember!” Remus exclaimed, bending his head to kiss Sirius firmly. Sirius reached up to catch his fingers in Remus’ hair, and left them tangled there when Remus broke the kiss and Sirius laid his head back down on Remus’ collarbone.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“So you don’t forget,” Remus answered quietly, pressing his cheek against Sirius’ forehead. Memories were an ephemeral thing with Sirius; sometimes he would recall one, only to forget it again afterwards, as if the Dementors had burned out his ability to retain the good memories. Remus didn’t mind so much, because watching Sirius rediscover the stories was like reliving them sometimes, but it seemed to frustrate Sirius, so Remus had taken to doing something unexpected each time Sirius came up with a new memory, hoping they would stick that way.

Sirius sighed softly and let his exhausted eyes close.

“Hex in the eyes…blind…” he whispered, solidifying the memory for himself. “Read to me…lost your voice…fell in love with you…”

“Don’t tease,” Remus snorted, ruffling Sirius’ hair. He felt the lips against his chest curve into a rare smile.

“Can’t remember when that happened anyways,” Sirius shifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe it didn’t. Maybe I always loved you.”

“You’re daft,” Remus said affectionately, feeling like he might have blushed if he was the sort of person who did that. “Quiet down if you want me to keep reading.”
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