FIC: Every Love and Each Regret 1.2
Jun. 30th, 2008 10:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leashy_bebesEvery Love and Each Regret Part 1, Chapter 2
PG-13 for language (naughty Sirius)
Still mostly one-sided shippiness at the moment. We're getting there though.
I'll hopefully be updatng this fairly regularly from next week onwards.
Lyrics from Tom Waits' Who are You
Previous chapter here
i fell in love with your saior's mouth and your wounded eyes
One Friday evening, not long after the aborted tutoring session, Remus returns to the common room from the library to find a mutinous looking James and a bored looking Peter waiting for him.
"What's the matter?" Remus asks, without further delay.
"Ask that fucking prick," James snarls. "Or better yet, don't. Let him fucking stew."
"Sirius?" Remus checks, although he doesn't know why he bothers. Sirius and James might be as close as brothers, but they also fight like brothers, often with the least provocation.
"Who else?" James grumbles. Remus looks towards the stairs half-apprehensively.
"I wouldn't," Peter offers. "He's having a tantrum."
Remus would object to the term if it wasn't accurate enough in its way. Sirius does throw fits like a child sometimes. But not a bratty child, Remus had been almost surprised to learn. Instead, he's like a child that is hopelessly alone, a child that can't share anything, and rejects sadness in favour of impotent rage.
Although he's tempted to go straight upstairs, Remus relents and joins Peter on the sofa, tuning out James' strictures on what a vile bastard Sirius is in order to flick through the work he'd been set for the weekend. Finally, he can't restrain himself any more and without a word heads for the stairs. He's peripherally aware of a strange look on James' face but ignores it, telling himself that he'd be going to check if Sirius was alright even if he hadn't been having these mad thoughts recently.
Upstairs, Sirius is standing on one foot, leaning out of the window, craning forward as though he’s trying to escape. When Remus shuts the door behind him Sirius reels himself in from the window and casts a glance over his shoulder.
“Alright,” Remus says. He receives a grunt in return and crosses the room to his own bed, starts unpacking his bag and struggling out of his robes. He changes his shirt for one less tidy but infinitely more comfortable and Sirius is still silent, still staring out of the window. Remus’ dad would say that Sirius has a face like a smacked arse right now (pouting, frowning, sulking essentially), but by god he wears it well, Remus thinks. No one should have the right to look angry and sad and irresistible all at once.
“Are you coming to dinner?” Remus asks.
“No,” Sirius says tightly.
“Oh. Why?”
“Because Prongs is a twat.”
“Ri-i-ight,” Remus says, drawing the word out in a way he knows will infuriate Sirius.
“The fuck are you playing at?” Sirius snarls, turning to glare at Remus. “Don’t pretend you don’t know me, Moony, why are you making me do this?”
“I’m not making you do anything,” Remus lies coolly.
“I don’t – ” Sirius starts, sounding furious for a second before he stops himself with visible effort, presses his lips together for a moment before saying, “I don’t want to do this with you. I don’t want to be a prick to you.”
“What’s wrong?” Remus asks gently, trying to quash the secret, mad thrill those words cause, because Sirius never usually cares who he hurts when he’s in this mood.
“Stop it!” Sirius snaps. “Fuck!”
“Sirius – ”
"Nothing!" Sirius snaps explosively. "Fucking nothing, Moony, alright? Just fuck off, yeah?”
Remus can’t help but feel a little wounded by that, even though he knows Sirius well enough to know that it’s not anger at him not really, it’s displaced hurt and frustration at something. He regrets letting it show as Sirius’ face falls and he offers a small, heartfelt curse.
“You really get to me, you know?” Sirius says with a noise that’s almost a laugh. While Remus is still trying to understand those words, Sirius continues, “I had a fight with Regulus.”
Light dawns and Remus is almost relieved because at least he knows now, at least he’s sure it’s not his own fault – his dad says he should be a Catholic, not a Wizard, he’s so quick to accept the blame for anything and everything. There are a lot of Slytherins Sirius hates more than his little brother, but not many aggravate him the way Regulus does.
“How bad?” Remus asks, meaning did you hurt him.
“Had worse,” Sirius shrugs. “He’s a little tit, but he’s getting pretty good at counter-curses.”
Sirius would never admit to missing out on a family relationship, even in the abstract, hypothetical if my family were normal would I miss spending time with them sense so Remus sidesteps the issue and says,
“You’ve got us. We’re your family.”
Sirius offers a half-hearted smile and nods, and Remus could swear he feels his heart break at the unasked questions swimming in Sirius’ eyes, wondering why his family are how they are, why he himself is how he is and why god why he can’t just be happy.
Remus isn’t really one to hug, and definitely not a person who has invaded his dreams and thoughts so much, but he can’t help himself, not when Sirius looks so desolate and he’s right there, in pain and only feet away. The hug is brief, and not the kind Remus would have chosen – not by a long shot – but at least when he moves back, Sirius seems a tiny bit less withdrawn, and even offers Remus a half-hearted smile.
“Coming to dinner?” Remus asks again.
Sirius gives him a small, private grin and says, “Alright.”
They walk down the stairs side by side, shoulders bumping and Remus very carefully deflects James’ questions and digs, wondering how Sirius’ best friend can fail to see the sadness beneath the anger.
Two weeks later...
PG-13 for language (naughty Sirius)
Still mostly one-sided shippiness at the moment. We're getting there though.
I'll hopefully be updatng this fairly regularly from next week onwards.
Lyrics from Tom Waits' Who are You
Previous chapter here
i fell in love with your saior's mouth and your wounded eyes
One Friday evening, not long after the aborted tutoring session, Remus returns to the common room from the library to find a mutinous looking James and a bored looking Peter waiting for him.
"What's the matter?" Remus asks, without further delay.
"Ask that fucking prick," James snarls. "Or better yet, don't. Let him fucking stew."
"Sirius?" Remus checks, although he doesn't know why he bothers. Sirius and James might be as close as brothers, but they also fight like brothers, often with the least provocation.
"Who else?" James grumbles. Remus looks towards the stairs half-apprehensively.
"I wouldn't," Peter offers. "He's having a tantrum."
Remus would object to the term if it wasn't accurate enough in its way. Sirius does throw fits like a child sometimes. But not a bratty child, Remus had been almost surprised to learn. Instead, he's like a child that is hopelessly alone, a child that can't share anything, and rejects sadness in favour of impotent rage.
Although he's tempted to go straight upstairs, Remus relents and joins Peter on the sofa, tuning out James' strictures on what a vile bastard Sirius is in order to flick through the work he'd been set for the weekend. Finally, he can't restrain himself any more and without a word heads for the stairs. He's peripherally aware of a strange look on James' face but ignores it, telling himself that he'd be going to check if Sirius was alright even if he hadn't been having these mad thoughts recently.
Upstairs, Sirius is standing on one foot, leaning out of the window, craning forward as though he’s trying to escape. When Remus shuts the door behind him Sirius reels himself in from the window and casts a glance over his shoulder.
“Alright,” Remus says. He receives a grunt in return and crosses the room to his own bed, starts unpacking his bag and struggling out of his robes. He changes his shirt for one less tidy but infinitely more comfortable and Sirius is still silent, still staring out of the window. Remus’ dad would say that Sirius has a face like a smacked arse right now (pouting, frowning, sulking essentially), but by god he wears it well, Remus thinks. No one should have the right to look angry and sad and irresistible all at once.
“Are you coming to dinner?” Remus asks.
“No,” Sirius says tightly.
“Oh. Why?”
“Because Prongs is a twat.”
“Ri-i-ight,” Remus says, drawing the word out in a way he knows will infuriate Sirius.
“The fuck are you playing at?” Sirius snarls, turning to glare at Remus. “Don’t pretend you don’t know me, Moony, why are you making me do this?”
“I’m not making you do anything,” Remus lies coolly.
“I don’t – ” Sirius starts, sounding furious for a second before he stops himself with visible effort, presses his lips together for a moment before saying, “I don’t want to do this with you. I don’t want to be a prick to you.”
“What’s wrong?” Remus asks gently, trying to quash the secret, mad thrill those words cause, because Sirius never usually cares who he hurts when he’s in this mood.
“Stop it!” Sirius snaps. “Fuck!”
“Sirius – ”
"Nothing!" Sirius snaps explosively. "Fucking nothing, Moony, alright? Just fuck off, yeah?”
Remus can’t help but feel a little wounded by that, even though he knows Sirius well enough to know that it’s not anger at him not really, it’s displaced hurt and frustration at something. He regrets letting it show as Sirius’ face falls and he offers a small, heartfelt curse.
“You really get to me, you know?” Sirius says with a noise that’s almost a laugh. While Remus is still trying to understand those words, Sirius continues, “I had a fight with Regulus.”
Light dawns and Remus is almost relieved because at least he knows now, at least he’s sure it’s not his own fault – his dad says he should be a Catholic, not a Wizard, he’s so quick to accept the blame for anything and everything. There are a lot of Slytherins Sirius hates more than his little brother, but not many aggravate him the way Regulus does.
“How bad?” Remus asks, meaning did you hurt him.
“Had worse,” Sirius shrugs. “He’s a little tit, but he’s getting pretty good at counter-curses.”
Sirius would never admit to missing out on a family relationship, even in the abstract, hypothetical if my family were normal would I miss spending time with them sense so Remus sidesteps the issue and says,
“You’ve got us. We’re your family.”
Sirius offers a half-hearted smile and nods, and Remus could swear he feels his heart break at the unasked questions swimming in Sirius’ eyes, wondering why his family are how they are, why he himself is how he is and why god why he can’t just be happy.
Remus isn’t really one to hug, and definitely not a person who has invaded his dreams and thoughts so much, but he can’t help himself, not when Sirius looks so desolate and he’s right there, in pain and only feet away. The hug is brief, and not the kind Remus would have chosen – not by a long shot – but at least when he moves back, Sirius seems a tiny bit less withdrawn, and even offers Remus a half-hearted smile.
“Coming to dinner?” Remus asks again.
Sirius gives him a small, private grin and says, “Alright.”
They walk down the stairs side by side, shoulders bumping and Remus very carefully deflects James’ questions and digs, wondering how Sirius’ best friend can fail to see the sadness beneath the anger.
Two weeks later...