The lentils got a bit uncool, floor-wise (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} arcadian_dream) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} jazzandpipes,@ 2008-07-13 11:53:00 |
 |
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Current mood: |  busy |
| Current music: | '6 Underground' - Sneaker Pimps |
| Entry tags: | hp fics, pairing: remus/sirius |
Throw It On the Fire: Potterverse; Remus/Sirius
Title: Throw It On the Fire
Author: arcadian_dream
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: un-beta'd, a bit of fluff and hurt/comfort maybe.
Disclaimer: JKR's, I'm just playing.
Summary: Lie Low at Lupin's, Remus cannot understand how Sirius has forgiven his lack of trust following the Potters' deaths.
Author's Notes: Inspired by Ben Folds Five's Smoke.
Words: 559
Comments: welcomed and appreciated :)
Here’s an evening dark with shame,
Throw it on the fire
Here’s the time I took the blame,
Throw it on the fire
Here’s the time we didn’t speak
It seemed for years and years,
Here’s a secret no one will ever know
The reason for the tears -
They are smoke
~‘Smoke’, Ben Folds Five
***
Remus gazed earnestly into the eyes of the man sitting across the kitchen table. His pupils searched the pools of smouldering grey for a hint of uncertainty, of untruth.
But there was none: this was real.
He swallowed, the rising lump in his throat seeming to have recently sprung a set of sharp spikes. Remus opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again.
He wasn’t exactly sure what there was to say to Sirius. What, after all, could he possibly say to remove the stain of the past, the lingering shadow of his mistrust; the burden of guilt borne of his absent faith.
“Remus,” Sirius whispered in hushed and gravely tones. Reaching a hand across the worn table top, he covered Remus’ loosely clenched fist with his palm. Remus’ eyes widened a little at the contact, and he withdrew is hand from beneath Sirius gentle grasp. Pushing his chair back from the table, Remus stood.
“I had better go and check on the fire, wouldn’t want it to go out – this place is an ice box without it,” Remus managed to croak nervously as he left the room.
Sitting on his haunches by the fireplace, Remus poked carelessly at the glowing embers, shifting the crumbling charcoal and sending orange sparks sporadically upwards. He reached for another log. Turning his head, he saw Sirius standing in the doorway behind him.
“Remus,” Sirius tried again, approaching slowly but surely, “It’s alright,” he said as he crouched beside Remus.
“No,” Remus answered simply, “It isn’t.” Remus let his fingers loosen around the piece of firewood he was holding, allowing it to tumble into the grate. The burning remnants of timber hissed and smoked at the contact, tendrils of smoke streaking towards the opening of the chimney.
“It is, Remus,” Sirius whispered, placing his warm palm on Remus’ scarred forearm, “It doesn’t matter.”
Remus quietly scoffed, turning his haze from the placement of Sirius’ hand to the familiar eyes, the irises alight with a gentility few would have expected from the bold and brash Sirius Black.
“How can you ever, how could you have…” Remus spluttered suddenly, his grief and guilt of the last twelve years spilling hastily over his lips. He was not, however, able to voice the one word that played so heavily on his consciousness: forgiveness.
“It doesn’t matter how, or why Remus – none of it does. It’s past, all of it. It’s…” Sirius paused as he turned his attention from Remus to the entangled flames of the fire:
“Smoke.”
Sirius raised his free hand. He lightly pressed his fingertips together as though clasping something in the palm of his hand before parting them a moment later, releasing the events and memories of the past, the tortured grief and regret into the atmosphere of Remus’ lounge, of the night, of existence.
|
|