[personal profile] imagines
Around midnight, I said goodnight to the shoebox chat, fully planning to go to sleep. ...and then I looked at a [livejournal.com profile] barefootboys prompt. It's not like I could sleep when I had an idea, right? Also, I had an insane amount of fun writing this, because I am mental and enjoy writing violent things until-- oh my God, it's 2 am. GOOD NIGHT.

~580 words. For prompt #8 (Barenaked Ladies - Lovers in a Dangerous Time) at [livejournal.com profile] barefootboys. No DH spoilers.


save your breaths


[the first war: a battlefield]

Sirius is the first to break. He kneels in an alley, closes his eyes against the blood shining in the moonlight, and shrieks into his hands. There is sweat in his eyes and in the gaping hole in his leg, and the pain of the salt is going to kill him if the blood loss doesn't.

He never sees Remus run to him, but then it starts to be okay again because Remus is there to heal him and swallow his cries. He pours his terror into Remus, and somehow the blind, mind-fogging panic begins to lift.

From then on they catch quick moments in between spellflashes and slick gore, whenever the fear starts crawling up their throats with scrabbling claws and they can't help but scream against each other's skin.

[my brother's keeper: laying low early on]

remus it's my brother it's my brother he's dead

Come here.

remus i will destroy Him they say He killed my brother

I know. I know.

i don't think i can do this remus do you think He hurt him

Sirius--

DO YOU THINK HE HURT HIM

[the second war: Grimmauld Place]

Christmas Day, Sirius leaps out of bed with a whoop and leaps two stairs at a time getting downstairs. Remus is in the kitchen, practically moaning over his mug of steaming coffee. Sirius firmly removes the mug from his hands, drags him out of his chair, and twirls him around the kitchen in a waltzy-tangoy-marchy thing that ends with them collapsing, dizzy and dazed, against the table and each other.

"This is nice," Sirius says, digging his fingers into Remus's ribs and his chin into Remus's shoulder. "I hope you realise I won't be letting go of you any time soon."

"At least not until the rest of your visitors wake up," Remus says mildly. "I expect they'll have heard you thundering down the stairs like a wild hippogriff."

"Oh! I nearly forgot Buck-- er, Witherwings. He'll love his present. Most brilliant Padfoot that I am, I caught rats for him," Sirius says happily. He tries to kiss Remus, who ducks away.

"And you still smell like rat. I'll kiss you when you've brushed your teeth and perhaps sterilised them."

"Have it your way, Moony McGermaphobe." Sirius twists away and bounds back up the stairs to visit his pet, bellowing "God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs" at the top of his lungs.

Remus smiles, and returns to his coffee. This is a nice Christmas.

[x: the Ministry]

Whenever anything has gone wrong for Sirius, Remus has been there to see the hurt and anger in his eyes. This time, he is there to see the laughter. Wild Sirius, never more a Black than when he is fighting a Black: he finds joy in fighting a battle he knows he can win, and he sends playful hexes at Bellatrix to keep her occupied while he skips around her, laughing.

Bellatrix dodges his harmless spells and waits. Too late, Remus sees that she is the beast waiting until her prey is lined up perfectly, and-- SNAP.

Harry screams and makes a run for the dais, and Remus grabs him because Sirius would never forgive him if he let his godson die. Images of Sirius are going off like flashbulbs behind his eyes. Insanely, he thinks rats. I was worried about rats and now I'll never smell rat-breath again.

lupin it's my godfather it's my godfather he's dead
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