_ky_ (_ky_) wrote in _toujours__pur_, @ 2007-10-07 01:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | author-_ky_, fic |
Paint Me Black
Title: Paint Me Black
Pairings: strongly implied Remus/Sirius... strongly implied, as in I sort of flat out mention it.
Warnings: some language, some angst
A/N: This is one of my older stories. However, it remains one of my favorites because it is the story that made me love writing Regulus. It is a section from my series, Halcyon Days, but I wrote it to stand alone as well.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, I just play with them and hope they enjoy it. All characters used are property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Bros., Et cetera et cetera. The song mentioned is, of course, "Paint it Black" by The Rolling Stones, and alas, I don't know what corporate entitities it belongs to, and so I'm just going to give it the 'et cetera' part, which is me trying to cover my legal bum.
Summary: Regulus spends a day watching the Marauders, and he learns more than he intended to about his brother and himself. It is a day of reflection; it is a day to remember. It is a day full of laughter, love, friendship, and music. For two brothers, it is a day that can illustrate what it really means to be from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
“Well, what’s the bands name then?”
Sirius snorted. “Isn’t that Rock and Roll said another way?”
“It’s a play on words. You know a literary device?”
Regulus bit back a laugh, if he didn’t watch himself, he might actually start liking the werewolf.
Sirius flipped his fingers at Lupin in an obscene gesture. “I know what a literary device is, Moons, so just fuck off. You know I hate you.”
Lupin gave a lopsided grin. “I know you don’t; but if you insist that you do, I’ll just take this and be on my merry way then.” He made to pick up the phonograph and laughed as Sirius jumped to stop him.
“No! You said that you got it for me! It’s my present!”
“What I want to know is how you’ll get it to work.” The squeaky voice of the chubby little one spoke up. Peter. Peter Pettigrew, Regulus finally put a name to the face.
“It’s quite simple, really, if you have someone like Lils working on it. She charmed it to run on magic instead electricity. Of course, it has a limited lifespan; it will only play for a couple of hours.”
“Well, then hurry it up. I want to listen to these Stones that you were so anxious for me to hear that it couldn’t wait for break.” Sirius grinned. “I can’t believe that you had your Da owl all of this to you.”
Remus smiled at Sirius, and Regulus was taken aback by the emotions that were loaded into that single smile. It transformed the werewolf’s face from one of tense earnestness to almost playful flirtation. It gave the Slytherin pause to question what exactly that look had meant; he wondered what exactly the werewolf was to his brother.
Regulus watched his brother lean back against a desk and close his eyes, complete and utter relaxation etched on his features in a way that Regulus didn’t remember feeling in a long time. Not since Siri had quit coming home.
“Hit it, Monsieur Moony.”
There was a scratchy noise before several hard drum beats filled the room. He could see the smile start to form on Sirius’s face as those few beats bounced across the walls before the guitars kicked in. Sirius never opened his eyes, but his head was bobbing to the rhythm and his thick combat boot was tapping even before the lyrics started. When they did, the grin he was wearing nearly split his face.
“You, Remus Lupin, are brilliant.”
And they kissed. Not the kiss of friends, not a kiss of two people simply being silly. It was a real kiss. A kiss shared by lovers. Hands carded through short black hair, hands caressed under the collar of a worn corduroy jacket, noses nuzzled as tongues dueled and lips teased. They sipped and tasted each other as the repetitive bump of the LP filled the room, and the other three laughed as if nothing was amiss, as if nothing was new, nothing changed.
But Regulus’s whole world was upside-down at the moment.
“Play it again.” The husky voice was one that he’d never heard his brother use before, and frankly, didn’t care too.
The bastard half-breed just laughed and walked over to the box again, starting the song anew. As the thumping sounds started again, Siri reached out and grabbed Lupin’s arm, pulling on him. Laughing they began to clumsily dance, half-falling over as much as they were moving to the music. James and his girl soon joined them, as well as Peter, as they all moved in a group. It was one of the most ungraceful displays that Regulus had ever seen.
He was quite jealous.
When the song ended, it was, of course, started again. Then again when the song finished was the record reset, over and over. Soon, they were not only dancing and laughing, but were singing as well. Siri, Regulus knew, had a decent voice, and he soon learned that Lupin did too. Surprisingly, for someone that was so squeaky when talking, Pettigrew didn’t sound half-bad, but neither Potter nor the Mudblood could carry a tune worth a damn. He winced slightly every time they hit a particularly bad note, as did Lupin and Sirius, though Pettigrew was oblivious to the musical monstrosity that was occurring.
On it continued, with them laughing harder and harder, and Regulus’s mood becoming more foul and darker the longer he had to listen to those damnable lyrics as they repeated. It was a blessing when, with a crackle of magic that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end, the phonograph went silent.
Lupin’s eyes went sad and remorseful as he looked at his brother. “I’m sorry, Pads. I thought it would last longer than this.”
Regulus closed his eyes as Siri once more pulled the werewolf to him, though that didn’t block out the sounds of their kissing, or his brother’s gentle voice whispering, “It was perfect, Moons.” In fact, he decided, opening his eyes, his imagination was probably making it worse.
It was difficult to follow the other Gryffindors to their tower on legs that were basically numb from disuse. Luckily, they were in no hurry, so by the time they got to the portrait of a Fat Lady in a Victorian style gown, he had regained feeling in his lower limbs.
He’d thought to wait out in the hall for Siri, but the opportunity was too much not take, so he slipped into the Gryffindor common room behind the others.
It was very red. He blinked against the crimson decorations, and turned back to the portrait hole, debating on fleeing.
He paused though, staring at this strange place that his brother had called home for seven years. It was so different from Slytherin House, and part of Regulus hated Siri for that. Part of him loved him for it as well; he was pleased that Siri had somehow gotten free of the darkness that seemed to consume the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
The Mudblood – Lily, he made himself call her by name – went up a set of stairs leaving Pettigrew and Potter alone in the common. They sat the phonograph down on a corner study table, and plopped themselves ungracefully down on couches near a fireplace that was roaring with flames despite the unseasonably warm weather.
“Pads and Moony seem to be doing better.” Pettigrew said conversationally. “I’m glad to know they got over that fight, or whatever you would call what was going on.”
Potter shrugged noncommittally. “They still got a lot of shite to deal with, though.”
“What’s up with you and Lils? It’s seemed tense the past couple of days.”
“You really feel like gossiping like a fourth year girl?”
Regulus had to cover a snort; as much as he’d always told himself he’d hated the Gryffindors, he was seeing them in a completely new light. Their native habitat, he laughed to himself. They could actually be people that he’d like.
He was glad his brother had them.
Pettigrew had turned a bright shade of pink that was quite unbecoming on him. “I’m just worried ‘bout my friends. Merlin. Don’t get your knickers in a twist over it.”
“Sorry, Wormtail. But, yeah, Lils has been acting strange. I just… don’t know why, and don’t feel much like talking about it.”
Regulus didn’t feel much like hearing about it. For all that he was gaining a new respect for the Gryffindors, sitting idle while they gossiped about their love lives was not why he’d borrowed the cloak.
However, the more he saw into the mysterious life of his Gryffindor brother, the more he’d realized that he’d been foolish. He’d never needed to confront him anyways. His fears had all been for naught, because Sirius wasn’t him.
He stared at the back of the portrait and begged for it to open, to release him from this red prison so that he could retreat back into his dark world of scheming and manipulations of Slytherin House where nothing was trusted, but everything made sense to him.
Where he could hide the feeling that he felt when he looked inside himself and saw the hope that Siri always made him feel.
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