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leashy_bebes) wrote2004-07-29 08:40 pm
leashy_bebes) wrote2004-07-29 08:40 pm
FIC: Every Love and Each Regret 2.5
Every Love and Each Regret
Part 2, Chapter 5
Lyrics from the Foo Fighters' Times Like These
it's times like these you learn to live again
Sirius wakes up to the happy fact that it is already mid-morning and he is completely free all day and night, and then becomes aware of the unhappy fact that is his life now - alone, and hungover. By the time he makes his way to the kitchen, his hands are shaking. Determinedly, he starts making tea, but even the idea of actually drinking it turns his stomach, and he lets the water go cold.
Two mouthfuls of dry toast is all he manages for breakfast before he cracks and almost without noticing, reaches for the bottle of Firewhiskey. Remus told him once that muggles call this a hair of the dog, and it had amused him ever since. Not today, though. Not for a while, really - not since it became an unpleasantly regular feature of his days. Still though, after a quick mouthful, he manages two slices of toast, and heats the water for the tea he'd thought of earlier.
Sirius flops down in front of the muggle television, spelled to work magically by Remus' dad - just another reminder - and sips at the tea. At around midday, he considers going for a shower but changes his mind. He hasn't had a day-and-night off in longer than he can remember, and he decides to be as miserable and smelly as he wants. More to the point, James is in hiding, Peter is busy, and Remus hates him. It's not like he doesn't have other friends, but this fucking war has made everyone pull back to just their very nearest and dearest, and those others Sirius does still see are neither keyed into the wards or likely to drop round unannounced.
He regrets his decision about half past one, when the floo flares into life and James tumbles out. There is a look of naked pity in his eyes for a minute before he takes a seat next to Sirius and silences the television with a flick of his wand.
"Alright, Padfoot?"
"Alright, Prongs."
And just like that, Sirius feels a surge of relief, because this must just be one of those rare, blissful occasions when things are good and safe within their carefully constructed little bubble.
"Listen, I've got a few hours," James says, popping the bubble. "But there's something I need to tell you first. I can't - you're going to go mental, but this has nothing to do with you, alright? You have to remember that."
"James what the fuck?" Sirius asks, worried now.
"We want Peter to be our Secret Keeper," James says, scratching his nose as he speaks.
"Oh," Sirius says. He knows that this is a matter of life and death, not a who's the best friend competition, but he can't help feeling a little cheated. As Secret Keeper, he would at least have had some point to his days. "Look, I know I've been - "
"Nothing to do with you, Padfoot," James stresses and Sirius' mouth snaps shut abruptly.
"You, um - You think so too, huh?" he asks.
"I - " James shrugs one shoulder. "Let's not talk about it."
"Alright," Sirius agrees, because Merlin knows that's easier. "Game of cards?"
"Why not," James nods.
They play a few hands of poker, chatting the whole time of insignificant things.
"Is Harry walking yet?" Sirius asks, over James' complaints of having a hand like a foot.
"Not quite," he grins. "Pulls himself upright now, so it won't be long. Says Ma and Da."
"Can't believe you're someone's Da," Sirius says with a wistful smile. "I miss that kid, you know."
"Yeah, I know. One day," James says.
It's become like a mantra, and Sirius nods and says, "One day."
"I'm hungry," James says, throwing down his cards, "And you've rigged the deck, you must have."
"You're just a sore loser, Potter," Sirius says, flicking a card at James, laughing as it bounces off his glasses. "Feel free to raid the kitchen," he says, but James is already halfway there, and seconds later is bemoaning the lack of any real food.
"Half a pepper, one yoghurt, a can of soup, and three slices of bread. God, Padfoot," James calls.
"You sound like your wife," Sirius yells back.
"Yeah, yeah," James says, reappearing in the doorway. "Well obviously we're not going to eat here. Come on."
"Alright, I have to go past Gringott's first though," Sirius says.
"I'll spring for a pub lunch," James offers. "You can get the next one."
"Alright, shall we take the bike?"
"Um - er - hmm, let me think - no," James says, jostling Sirius companionably as they walk out of the door.
"Great, and now you sound like - " Sirius says without thinking and their steps falter.
"Fucking weird, huh?" James asks softly. Sirius nods brusquely and locks the door.
At a muggle pub down the road they order pints of beer and fish and chips.
"Listen," Sirius says, licking salt and vinegar from his fingers. "I've opened an account for Harry."
"What?" James asks, looking taken-aback. "So did we, what are you on about?"
"No, it's - do you not have them? Pff, inferior bloodlines, clearly. It's like a sub-account within mine which tops up regularly and - "
"Sirius, you don't need to do that," James says uncomfortably. "We're alright for money."
"It's not for you, oaf," Sirius scoffs. "It's for my Godson. Here," Sirius says, rooting around in his pocket and coming up with a key. "Look after it for him."
"You already got him some pretty major stuff," James points out.
"Yeah, well," Sirius shrugs, shifting uncomfortably. He doesn't want to say that the elaborate set of gifts for Harry's naming ceremony were from him and Remus, doesn't want to admit that he wants to give Harry something untainted. "I plan to spoil him a lot."
"Like he needs it. The other week - "
James launches into a story about an over-the-top gift from the Longbottoms but Sirius barely hears it because he's so busy marvelling that for the first time in months, he feels almost whole.
one week later...
Part 2, Chapter 5
Lyrics from the Foo Fighters' Times Like These
it's times like these you learn to live again
Sirius wakes up to the happy fact that it is already mid-morning and he is completely free all day and night, and then becomes aware of the unhappy fact that is his life now - alone, and hungover. By the time he makes his way to the kitchen, his hands are shaking. Determinedly, he starts making tea, but even the idea of actually drinking it turns his stomach, and he lets the water go cold.
Two mouthfuls of dry toast is all he manages for breakfast before he cracks and almost without noticing, reaches for the bottle of Firewhiskey. Remus told him once that muggles call this a hair of the dog, and it had amused him ever since. Not today, though. Not for a while, really - not since it became an unpleasantly regular feature of his days. Still though, after a quick mouthful, he manages two slices of toast, and heats the water for the tea he'd thought of earlier.
Sirius flops down in front of the muggle television, spelled to work magically by Remus' dad - just another reminder - and sips at the tea. At around midday, he considers going for a shower but changes his mind. He hasn't had a day-and-night off in longer than he can remember, and he decides to be as miserable and smelly as he wants. More to the point, James is in hiding, Peter is busy, and Remus hates him. It's not like he doesn't have other friends, but this fucking war has made everyone pull back to just their very nearest and dearest, and those others Sirius does still see are neither keyed into the wards or likely to drop round unannounced.
He regrets his decision about half past one, when the floo flares into life and James tumbles out. There is a look of naked pity in his eyes for a minute before he takes a seat next to Sirius and silences the television with a flick of his wand.
"Alright, Padfoot?"
"Alright, Prongs."
And just like that, Sirius feels a surge of relief, because this must just be one of those rare, blissful occasions when things are good and safe within their carefully constructed little bubble.
"Listen, I've got a few hours," James says, popping the bubble. "But there's something I need to tell you first. I can't - you're going to go mental, but this has nothing to do with you, alright? You have to remember that."
"James what the fuck?" Sirius asks, worried now.
"We want Peter to be our Secret Keeper," James says, scratching his nose as he speaks.
"Oh," Sirius says. He knows that this is a matter of life and death, not a who's the best friend competition, but he can't help feeling a little cheated. As Secret Keeper, he would at least have had some point to his days. "Look, I know I've been - "
"Nothing to do with you, Padfoot," James stresses and Sirius' mouth snaps shut abruptly.
"You, um - You think so too, huh?" he asks.
"I - " James shrugs one shoulder. "Let's not talk about it."
"Alright," Sirius agrees, because Merlin knows that's easier. "Game of cards?"
"Why not," James nods.
They play a few hands of poker, chatting the whole time of insignificant things.
"Is Harry walking yet?" Sirius asks, over James' complaints of having a hand like a foot.
"Not quite," he grins. "Pulls himself upright now, so it won't be long. Says Ma and Da."
"Can't believe you're someone's Da," Sirius says with a wistful smile. "I miss that kid, you know."
"Yeah, I know. One day," James says.
It's become like a mantra, and Sirius nods and says, "One day."
"I'm hungry," James says, throwing down his cards, "And you've rigged the deck, you must have."
"You're just a sore loser, Potter," Sirius says, flicking a card at James, laughing as it bounces off his glasses. "Feel free to raid the kitchen," he says, but James is already halfway there, and seconds later is bemoaning the lack of any real food.
"Half a pepper, one yoghurt, a can of soup, and three slices of bread. God, Padfoot," James calls.
"You sound like your wife," Sirius yells back.
"Yeah, yeah," James says, reappearing in the doorway. "Well obviously we're not going to eat here. Come on."
"Alright, I have to go past Gringott's first though," Sirius says.
"I'll spring for a pub lunch," James offers. "You can get the next one."
"Alright, shall we take the bike?"
"Um - er - hmm, let me think - no," James says, jostling Sirius companionably as they walk out of the door.
"Great, and now you sound like - " Sirius says without thinking and their steps falter.
"Fucking weird, huh?" James asks softly. Sirius nods brusquely and locks the door.
At a muggle pub down the road they order pints of beer and fish and chips.
"Listen," Sirius says, licking salt and vinegar from his fingers. "I've opened an account for Harry."
"What?" James asks, looking taken-aback. "So did we, what are you on about?"
"No, it's - do you not have them? Pff, inferior bloodlines, clearly. It's like a sub-account within mine which tops up regularly and - "
"Sirius, you don't need to do that," James says uncomfortably. "We're alright for money."
"It's not for you, oaf," Sirius scoffs. "It's for my Godson. Here," Sirius says, rooting around in his pocket and coming up with a key. "Look after it for him."
"You already got him some pretty major stuff," James points out.
"Yeah, well," Sirius shrugs, shifting uncomfortably. He doesn't want to say that the elaborate set of gifts for Harry's naming ceremony were from him and Remus, doesn't want to admit that he wants to give Harry something untainted. "I plan to spoil him a lot."
"Like he needs it. The other week - "
James launches into a story about an over-the-top gift from the Longbottoms but Sirius barely hears it because he's so busy marvelling that for the first time in months, he feels almost whole.
one week later...