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bookishwenchMy muse came back a bit yesterday.
Author: Meltha
Rating: PG-13 for the boys being only a little naughty
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Melpomenethalia@aol.com
Spoilers: None.
Distribution: The Blackberry Patch and Fanfiction.net. If you’re interested, please let me know.
Summary: What is says on the tin: Sirius wants to kiss Remus.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by J. K. Rowling, a wonderful author whose characters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Five Times Sirius Fantasized about Kissing Remus, and One Time He Didn’t
It happened, as most of Sirius’s great revelations happened, in the middle of History of Magic. As Binns droned on and on about the Battle of Begonia Babcock, during which a group of goblins had apparently used Ms. Babcock’s pantry as a last fortification against encroaching wizards in the fifteenth century, Sirius had been staring slack-jawed at absolutely nothing, his brain free of the tyranny of any outside thoughts. It had been in just such a Zen-like state that Sirius had concocted the scheme to put love potion in McGonagall’s morning cup of tea while James stood nearby under the Invisibility Cloak to see if he could catch anything compromising she might say. Granted, finding out the old bird had a crush on Kettleburn wasn’t really a comforting thing, but it had been great fun.
Today, though, the outcome of his brain going into sleep mode had been very, very different. Sirius had realized, suddenly and without the least ounce of doubt, that he wanted to kiss Remus. The idea, completely out of the blue and yet absolutely certain, went through him like a lightning bolt, shaking him to the core. The shock of the moment was enough to make him gasp loudly, and the eyes of the entire class swiveled in his direction, those of the students hopeful that something, anything, had come to save them from death by boredom, and Binns’s narrowed in annoyance.
“Did you have something to say, Severus?” he asked sharply.
“I’m Sirius, not Severus!” he said indignantly.
“Yes, yes, Cervantes,” Binns said dismissively. “What is the problem?”
“No problem, sir,” he said quickly, then invented something on the spot. “I just remembered I left my cauldron full of hardened Bubotuber pus back in the dormitory.”
“Oh,” Binns said, frowning. “Perhaps you should go and remove it before it burns a hole through the floor... and several floors below it as well.”
“Yeah,” Sirius said, rapidly collecting his books. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, sir.”
“You’re welcome, Stephano,” Binns said, then added, “but five points shall be deducted from Slytherin for this!”
Sirius spun around, about to correct him concerning what house he was in, but the other Gryffindors in the class were all making pleading gestures towards him. Since this particular class was composed only of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, who of course hated Slytherin as well, there was no one to contradict Binns.
“Yes, sir,” Sirius said, barely repressing a grin. “I’m very sorry to hear that, sir.”
Then, like a flash, Sirius was gone from the class, liberated, free, and…
… and still stuck with the undeniable realization that he wanted to snog one of his best mates. The feeling lodged in his stomach, not quite making him sick but making him very nervous. He felt as though he’d swallowed half a dozen Peppermint Toads at once. Fancying fellows was nothing new to Sirius, but fancying Remus certainly was. Aimlessly, he wandered down a series of corridors, past the Great Hall, and out onto the grounds, mercifully not running into Filch or his blasted cat on the way.
Sirius skirted the edge of the lake, keeping just inside a layer of brush so that he wouldn’t be spotted from the castle windows. It was a glorious late spring day, with blue skies and white clouds, chirruping birds and the occasional rabbit racing across the turf. Far out in the middle of the lake, the giant squid was reaching a few of its tentacles lazily above the water, apparently enjoying the sunshine. It was all wasted on Sirius though as he was still reeling from the realization he was drawn to Remus. Sitting down on the green grass and fervently wishing the lark over his head would shut its mouth and fly off, he tried to figure out exactly why he was feeling this way.
He’d always like Remus. Of course he had. And when Sirius thought back over the last couple years, he admitted that he’d also always been aware that Remus was remarkably good-looking. Now, in their seventh year, the last traces of his awkward adolescence had faded away. He had grown into his longer limbs and moved with a grace that reminded Sirius simultaneously of a hunting dog and a willow tree.
A willow tree? He was comparing Remus to a willow tree? Sirius snarled at himself and huffed out a great rush of breath in disgust. Finding Remus attractive was one thing, but comparing him to the movement of willow branches in the wind was getting far too close to girly for his taste. So what if Remus’s eyes glowed like warm honey in the sunlight or his hair was the color of wheat at harvest time or his lips looked soft and full like sweets begging to be tasted?
“Mighty Merlin, I sound like James talking about Evans,” he said to himself, grimacing.
But the image of Remus’s lips, which looked so irresistible when he smiled, especially when there was a note of mischief underlying them, simply wouldn’t go away. Sirius sighed heavily again and lay back on the grass, staring up at the sky overhead through the tangle of tree branches, and he began to imagine what kissing Remus might actually be like.
In his mind’s eye, his very active imagination began to construct a fantasy. He pictured their dormitory, perhaps deserted on a day just like this one, except for Moony. He would be studying, of course, pouring over some dusty tome on Defense Against the Dark Arts, learning how to stop a manticore or avoid Inferi or something equally brave but probably useless. Sirius could see him so clearly in his mind that every detail was crisp: Remus’s hair would have slipped from behind his ear onto his cheek, and a shaft of sunlight would be coming from the window over his shoulder, setting his profile into sharp relief and making the tips of his eyelashes glisten like gold.
Sirius would walk into the room, carefully closing the door behind him so as not to make any noise. He’d get as close as a half dozen paces from the bed before Remus would look up suddenly, sensing his presence.
“Padfoot?” he’d ask, obviously wondering why he was in the dormitory rather than out raising mayhem on the grounds. “Something wrong?”
Sirius would shake his head no, not quite trusting his voice from sheer nerves, and he would sit beside Remus on the bed, gently closing the book and no doubt earning an annoyed look from Remus for losing his place.
“What is it, then?” Remus would say, just the smallest hint of impatience lacing his tone.
Then Sirius would simply lean forward and bring their lips together, softly, a quick press, and he could imagine the shock on Moony’s face, the way his lips would tense from sheer surprise. He guessed that his lips would be just a little dry, and maybe a quick exhalation of his breath from a surprised gasp, not unlike his own just minutes ago, would send a warm rush of air over the kiss. Sirius would pull back as quickly as he had brought them together, sheepishly rubbing his hand through the hair at the nape of his own neck as he tried to put words to why he had done this, and Moony would stare at him, his eyes wide.
Yes, Sirius thought. Yes, it could go just like that: a quick peck, a stolen second of bliss. But Sirius’s brain, that instrument fine-tuned to plans, began to churn out another possibility. He wasn’t content, not just yet.
He began another daydream, another plot to capture those sweet lips in a kiss. This time he imagined a quite different setting. The broom cupboard on the third floor wasn’t exactly the most romantic of locations, but Sirius knew from previous experience that when it was locked from the inside, no one could get in, not even Slughorn on a rampage to see who had nicked his best oak-matured mead (which really was rather delicious, as the four of them had found out). They would have complete, utter privacy.
Sirius would wait inside, keeping the door open a crack and watching, waiting for Remus to return from his trip to the library. As Moony would be about to pass the door, he would open it, grab him by the elbow, and draw him inside before he knew what was happening.
“It’s only me,” Sirius would assure him at once, putting him at ease.
“What’s up, Padfoot?” Remus would say, and the delightful smile would light up his lips. “Something interesting going to happen?”
“Oh, I do hope so,” he would say. “I hope something you’ll like very much.”
“Well?” Remus would ask.
Sirius would move closer to him, no mean feat in a cupboard where they would be practically on top of each other anyway. Slowly, he would raise his hand to Remus’s cheek, stroking it tenderly, and he knew Remus would think he was joking at first, could almost see the witty retort dancing on his tongue.
“It’s not a joke, Rem,” Sirius would say, looking him clearly in the eyes in the way he never could when he was lying. “Is this okay?”
Remus would be surprised at first, he was sure, but a pink glow would spread over his face, and Sirius could feel his own eyes falling shut.
“Yes,” Remus could say, the word having a little tremble to it, and Sirius would lower his mouth to Moony’s.
It would be a soft kiss, slow, taking their time. Perhaps it would begin with gentle nipping at one another’s lips, never moving far apart, allowing plenty of time to adjust to the closeness and let the wonder of the moment seep into them fully. Eventually, each kiss would last moments longer, building energy, and they would delve into a deeper kiss, one where their lips met fully and Sirius could begin to taste him. He imagined that Remus would have the faint flavor of coffee on his lips, mixed with the chocolate he so loved, a rich, deep, dark taste. As the kiss progressed, he could imagine Remus angling his head slightly and parting his lips, and Sirius took it for permission to let the tip of his tongue enter. Remus would meet him halfway, and the warmth, the closeness, the bliss of it all would wrap around them both like a quilt.
He supposed eventually they’d need to part to breathe, but he couldn’t imagine breathing being anywhere near as important as kissing Remus, so the break would be but a moment before they were joined again, and this time Remus’s hands would reach up to curl in Sirius’s hair as he moaned quietly, low and deep. Sirius could almost hear it now, and it sent a thrill through him.
Yes, he thought, he could do that. But Sirius’s brain was always seeking to double the impact of whatever he was doing, and his imagination conjured up another image. For a moment he questioned his sanity as the Potions classroom came into his mind. Granted, he loathed the subject not so much because he hated brewing ingredients over smoky fires and reading tedious instructions--though he did hate both--but the real reason he dreaded Potions was because Snape was so utterly wonderful at it. Snivellus would gloat unendingly about the perfection of his concoctions, and it irked Sirius that he really couldn’t pick on him because they were, in fact, annoyingly perfect.
But in this fantasy, finally, something would go dreadfully, wonderfully wrong with dear old Snivy’s potion. Rather than creating the mild Motivating Solution that Slughorn had been trying to explain, Snape’s penchant for embellishment would go too far. Sirius could picture him adding a bit too much of this and that, and suddenly, the room would fill with hazy blue vapors. The strength of the potion would have intensified so much that the sheer scent of it would compel everyone in the room to enact their deepest desires without the least timidity.
Sirius didn’t give much thought to what the others would be doing, though he vaguely imagined that James and Lily would be having quite a lovely time somewhere in the back of the room. Snape, he supposed, would probably be trying to kill all four of them, but he thought Slughorn would be able to put a stop to that quickly enough, maybe forcing him to the Headmaster’s office and leaving the bespelled students alone. And yes, in his mind’s eye, there was Remus.
He could blame it on the spell, Sirius thought as he imagined his dream self reaching towards Moony, taking the wand from his hand and firmly setting it to one side. This time, Remus would be gazing at him raptly, eagerness in his features. Yes, Sirius decided, Remus would want him just as much as he did.
There would be no pause, no gentle questioning now, just the rough smash of the two of them coming together with all the force of long denied desire. In his mind’s eye he could imagine the coarse texture of Moony’s school robes under his fingertips as he pulled him close, and the answering pull on his own clothes as Remus reciprocated, arms wrapped tightly around him. But the surest sensation, the one he craved, was the feel of those hungry lips on his own, battling with one another, teeth and tongues meshing together without the least care as to who might be watching. He imagined sinking his hands into Remus’s soft hair (he knew his hair was soft, it had to be from the look of it, but oh how he wanted to know for certain) and feeling it pass through his fingers like silk. He could imagine a moan escaping from Remus’s lips, pure desire, hot and sweet.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Sirius could imagine himself confessing in the moments when their lips weren’t pressed together. “Wanted to hear that sound from you, wanted to be the one to make you lose control.”
“Wanted it too,” Remus would say, biting Sirius’s lip, almost hard enough to break skin but not quite.
He could imagine dragging Remus onto the desk so they could lie full length against one another and feel the press of one another’s bodies writhing as they kissed, utterly without shame.
Or not, Sirius thought to himself, stopping the fantasy. A table in the dungeon really wouldn’t be the most comfortable place for an intense snog. Knowing his own tendency to overdo it, he’d more than likely break the table and send them both tumbling to floor and knocking over a cauldron, maybe winding up doused in cinders and embers. Still, it would be worth a blow to his dignity and some bumps, scrapes, bruises, maybe even a singe or two, for that scene to be reality.
But he wanted more, and Sirius’s imagination, never one to shirk when called upon, began to spin another tale. The Prefects’ bathroom up on the fifth floor was a place of almost mythic proportions. Very few people had ever been inside it, but once Remus had been given the honor, the rest of the Marauders were soon able to sneak through under that terribly convenient invisibility cloak of James’s. Sirius had to admit, it would almost be worth being one of the morally upstanding sorts in the school just to have the opportunity to take a dip in that gigantic tub any time he liked. Peter had suggested more than once that they use the cloak to spy on a few of the more attractive girls who were prefects, especially a certain Ravenclaw that even Sirius had to admit was wildly pretty, but the rest of them had agreed that it was really taking the thing too far. Privately, Sirius wondered if James was worried that Peter might use it to take a butcher’s at Lily, and frankly, Sirius wouldn’t put it past Wormtail.
Actually spying on someone was one thing, but daydreaming about it, well, Sirius thought, that was quite a different thing. No harm, no foul.
Sirius could imagine hiding under the cover of the cloak, quietly passing various statues and suits of armor, keeping to shadows as it would be long after curfew. The light from the quarter moon would cast deep shadows along the corridor, and when at last he reached the Prefect’s bathroom, he’d whisper the password Moony had told them.
“Bubbles,” he’s say as quietly as possible, and the door would open with a soft click to reveal the bath lit dimly with only a few candles.
Sirius would stay as silent as possible, closing the door softly behind him and then walking soundlessly across the tiled floor. The mermaid would have dozed off long ago, and good riddance to bad rubbish there, but the room would be far from unoccupied. Foam would lie thick and rich across the water in the tub, perfuming the air with a spicy, heady scent, and Remus’s head would be visible just above the froth, his eyes closed and a blissful smile on his face.
Sirius knew he would stand there, hidden from view, and simply watch as Remus breathed softly, the flickering lights of the candles playing across his skin and making it glow beautifully. He would look utterly amazing, perfect. Perhaps Sirius would steal a glance at his clothes, no doubt carefully folded and placed out of the way in a corner so they wouldn’t get wet, and take a moment to realize that Moony was, in fact, completely naked. A shudder passed through Sirius at the thought.
And then, the stillness would be broken.
“I know you’re here, Sirius,” Remus would say, not bothering to open his eyes and that smile turning a bit smug. “I can scent you, you know, Invisibility Cloak or not.”
Sirius would be caught in the act, and he’d probably even have a blush steal across him as he sheepishly let the cloak fall to the floor.
“Blasted wolf senses,” Sirius would grumble. “That’s cheating.”
“And what exactly is sneaking into my bath under the cloak?” Remus would say, opening his eyes and fixing him with an unreadable look.
“Ehm, yeah, about that…,” Sirius would say, fumbling with the cloak since James would bloody kill him if anything happened to it and folding it as something to keep him from having to look at Remus.
“Yeah, about that,” Remus would say, not letting him off the hook. “Is this the first time?”
“You know it is,” Sirius could imagine himself insisting.
“Yes, I know,” Remus would say, stirring to sit up straighter in the water, a few bubbles slipping from his shoulder to his chest and glimmering softly in the candlelight. “I’ve been waiting for you for months now, hoping you’d realize when I mentioned wanting to take a midnight bath I wasn’t just making idle conversation.”
“You… you were expecting me to come to you?” Sirius would say, a catch in his voice.
“Hoped,” Remus would say, blushing. “Only hoped. Join me?”
And then that little trickster would give him a good, sudden pull from the ankles and send him crashing into the bath with all his clothes still on. He’d come up blustering and gasping for air, and Moony would be laughing fit to burst, and he’d start in as well.
But they would be close to one another, so very close, and the words that had been said would still be hanging in the air. Sirius would reach towards him, closing the distance, the water warm and sweetly perfumed. He imagined sitting beside him on the bench that ran round the tub, Remus looking slightly nervous but staying put, holding his gaze. Sirius could almost feel his friend’s hand as he took it in his own beneath the water, taking a moment to feel the lines of his fingers before drawing him even closer.
And then they were kissing. Remus’s hands, warmed and maybe even a bit pruned from the bathwater, would fist themselves into his wet shirt as Sirius let himself pour the heat and the joy of knowing what he wanted wasn’t impossible into the suddenly sure movement of his lips. The momentum would pull them off the bench and into the depths at the center of the pool, where the water was well over their heads. They would let themselves sink beneath the water, still in a kiss, letting the world fall away as they explored one another, until at last they came rushing to the surface to fill their lungs with air, and they found they were both laughing.
“So good,” Sirius would say, his arms wrapped around him, aware that the clothes folded in a corner had been no lie, bare skin smooth and warm against the tips of his fingers. And just think, eventually they’d have to get out of the water, and then…
Remus stopped the daydream abruptly. He’d been nearing the point of no return there, and while he found that he loved the idea of daydreaming endlessly about the kiss that would never happen, he thought if he explored that particular venue any more deeply, he might not be able to look Moony in the eye for the next couple weeks.
He knew that it had to be getting near time for Transfiguration, and while Binns might be easy enough to fool, old McGonagall wasn’t one to trifle with. If he skived off her class, he’d be in for detention and no mistake. Still, there were a few minutes left, and as the forest was so readily at hand, it made as good a place as any for the setting of one last fantasy before he went back to the castle and suffered through turning mice into wombats, then headed back to the dormitory and had a small nervous breakdown when reality hit him.
But for now, the sights and sounds of the Forbidden Forest plunged him into one more daydream. Sirius had always loved the freedom that the forest represented, the memories of nights he spent running with Prongs and Moony in his other form, poor Wormtail clinging to James’s antlers to keep up. But this time, he saw the forest in sunlight, as it was now, with shafts of gold angling through the leafy canopy and dappling the floor with dancing light. On one level, he heard his subconscious, which sounded disturbingly like his mother, telling him that he was going soft and unmanly with words like “dappled” and “leafy,” but the rest of him promptly told the voice to shut it, it was his fantasy, and if he wanted sparkly unicorns in pink tutus doing the Electric Slide, he’d bloody well have them without apology, thank you very much.
Now why was he picturing Moony in a pink tutu again? Oh, bother, he really did need to learn to keep his mind on one train of thought for longer than two minutes.
Ah, yes, he thought, so in the idyllic setting he created, he imagined sitting just as he was now, his back against one of the great trees, staring up at the freshly green colors of the leaves above him, when the sound of a twig snapping would make him snap to attention and draw his wand to ward off an attack from any one of a dozen dark creatures. Sure enough, a rampaging dragon, a good thirty feet long, would be standing mere feet away (though exactly how he wouldn’t have heard it until now was something Sirius decided to pass over in his daydream since who said it needed to be realistic). It was a gigantic Ukrainian Ironbelly, and in its right front talon it clutched none other than Remus himself.
“Sirius, a little help!” he called, and even though he knew it was only a fantasy, Sirius felt his heartbeat pick up pace at the thought of Moody in mortal danger. “I’ve dropped my wand!”
As Sirius would get to his feet, symphonic theme music would start to play from somewhere, including a bunch of tensely sawing cellos and a high trumpet blast. His cloak would furl in the wind as though in slow motion, and suddenly he had not simply a wand, but a sword that glittered menacingly. The Ironbelly would send forth a blast of hot red and green flame, but a simple shout of “Protego!” would render it obsolete. The dragon would roar in utter frustration.
What would follow would be a battle for the ages. The dragon would try to swipe Sirius off his feet with his tail, but he would jump over cleanly as though it were only a skipping rope. As it turned, hurling a fiery blast at him, he would leap lightly through the air, landing between its broad shoulder blades, clinging to its back. He could imagine Remus yelling in alarm as the dragon went into a roll, trying to crush the annoying human creature on its back as though Sirius were only an ant, but he would throw himself clear a split second before he would have been crushed to jelly. As the dragon lay on the ground with its belly exposed, before it could heft its great bulk back up to stand and fight again, Sirius would aim his sword and jab through the heart, killing it as blood spurted in a fountain higher than the treetops and the dragon’s corpse disappeared in an explosion of purple and gold smoke with a thunderous bang. Granted, dragon corpses didn’t actually do that, but this was Sirius’s fantasy and he was sticking to it.
Remus would be lying sprawled on the ground a scant few feet away, and Sirius would rush to his side, concerned over how pale he was.
“Moony, mate? You alright?” he would ask, leaning low over his friend. “Are you hurt at all?”
Remus would move slightly, sending a wave of relief through Sirius, and he would open his eyes and look up at him in awe.
“You… you saved me from a dragon,” he would say, his mouth hanging open. “A ruddy great dragon!”
“I guess I did at that,” Sirius would chuckle. “I suppose that means you owe me one.”
“One what?” Remus would ask, his eyes narrowing.
“I believe the typical favor bestowed on a knight who saves a maiden fair is the boon of a kiss,” Sirius would say with a wink.
“Do I look like a maiden fair to you?” Remus would say, wrinkling his nose.
“I grant you, the flowing blonde hair and requisite pink dress with sequin spangles are missing,” Sirius would say, tipping his head to one side, “but I think I can overlook that.”
“You… you can?” Remus would stammer. “I mean, you’re serious?”
“As you just said, I saved your from a ruddy great dragon. I don’t do that for just anyone,” Sirius would say, and Remus’s grin would turn more than a tad wolfish.
“Do I have to bat my eyelashes and say ‘My hero!’ in a high falsetto?” he would say as he looked up at him, still lying on the ground, Sirius hovering over him protectively.
“Only if that’s your thing,” Sirius would say with a laugh before pouncing on him and giving him a wet, sloppy, playful, but perfectly glorious kiss.
Sirius sighed in contentment. Admittedly, his last fantasy was highly unlikely, but then so were they all. Still, it was wonderful, thinking about the remote, impossible possibility of kissing Remus. He supposed later on he might begin to feel rather depressed about it all, but for now, lying on the grass and staring up at the spring sky, that was far away.
Just then a twig snapped behind him. Bizarrely thinking of his last fantasy, Sirius shot to his feet, wand at the ready, completely expecting to see a dragon staring at him from the path. Instead, what he saw was Remus.
“Oh, it’s you,” Sirius said, looking relieved, but possibly under close inspection more than a little guilty.
“Yes, it’s me,” Remus said, leaning up against the tree. “Who were you expecting?”
Sirius shook his head and stuffed his wand back into his pocket unceremoniously.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said, grinning.
“A Ukrainian Ironbelly, by any chance?” Remus said, coming a step closer.
Sirius stared, his mouth hanging open in shock, completely horrified.
“How… you… how… you…,” he repeated several times, but Remus smiled at him.
“McGonagall sent me to get you from our dormitory on pain of a month’s detention if you don’t show up in the next five minutes. I figured you wouldn’t be able to resist being out-of-doors on a day like this, so I tracked you down,” he said. “You do realize you talk to yourself when you’re daydreaming, don’t you?”
“Exactly how long have you been standing there?” Sirius said, swallowing hard.
“Only a few minutes. I heard you describing a dragon battle and was just waiting to take the mickey out of you. I didn’t realize that it would turn into,” and here Remus did color a bit, “anything else.”
“Oh,” Sirius said.
For once in his life, he was completely at a loss for words. The two of them stood there, silent, as the breeze ruffled the leaves overhead and a bird somewhere started to call.
“Do you?” Remus asked, finally breaking the silence with little more than a whisper.
Sirius couldn’t meet his eyes, but he knew well enough what Remus must be talking about. He thought for a crazy minute about playing it off as a great joke. They’d laugh about it and go back into the Great Hall and it would all be just as it was before. Except, of course, Sirius would know he’d lied, that he hadn’t had the nerve to say the truth. He took a moment, then lifted his gaze from the grass beneath his feet and looked Remus square in the face.
“Yes,” he said simply. “I do.”
He wasn’t sure what to expect, but revulsion or shock were the biggest contenders. However, the expression on Moony’s face didn’t hold a shadow of those things. Instead, what he saw was wonder and happiness.
“Sirius, I’ve felt the same way for a year now. All you had to do was ask,” he said, smiling.
“I… you… wait, what?” Sirius said intelligently.
“Maybe showing is better than telling,” Remus said, and he kissed him.
It wasn’t how Sirius had imagined it at all, but as he held Remus close and felt his arms entwining around him, it was so much better than he ever could have dreamed.
Author: Meltha
Rating: PG-13 for the boys being only a little naughty
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Melpomenethalia@aol.com
Spoilers: None.
Distribution: The Blackberry Patch and Fanfiction.net. If you’re interested, please let me know.
Summary: What is says on the tin: Sirius wants to kiss Remus.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by J. K. Rowling, a wonderful author whose characters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
It happened, as most of Sirius’s great revelations happened, in the middle of History of Magic. As Binns droned on and on about the Battle of Begonia Babcock, during which a group of goblins had apparently used Ms. Babcock’s pantry as a last fortification against encroaching wizards in the fifteenth century, Sirius had been staring slack-jawed at absolutely nothing, his brain free of the tyranny of any outside thoughts. It had been in just such a Zen-like state that Sirius had concocted the scheme to put love potion in McGonagall’s morning cup of tea while James stood nearby under the Invisibility Cloak to see if he could catch anything compromising she might say. Granted, finding out the old bird had a crush on Kettleburn wasn’t really a comforting thing, but it had been great fun.
Today, though, the outcome of his brain going into sleep mode had been very, very different. Sirius had realized, suddenly and without the least ounce of doubt, that he wanted to kiss Remus. The idea, completely out of the blue and yet absolutely certain, went through him like a lightning bolt, shaking him to the core. The shock of the moment was enough to make him gasp loudly, and the eyes of the entire class swiveled in his direction, those of the students hopeful that something, anything, had come to save them from death by boredom, and Binns’s narrowed in annoyance.
“Did you have something to say, Severus?” he asked sharply.
“I’m Sirius, not Severus!” he said indignantly.
“Yes, yes, Cervantes,” Binns said dismissively. “What is the problem?”
“No problem, sir,” he said quickly, then invented something on the spot. “I just remembered I left my cauldron full of hardened Bubotuber pus back in the dormitory.”
“Oh,” Binns said, frowning. “Perhaps you should go and remove it before it burns a hole through the floor... and several floors below it as well.”
“Yeah,” Sirius said, rapidly collecting his books. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, sir.”
“You’re welcome, Stephano,” Binns said, then added, “but five points shall be deducted from Slytherin for this!”
Sirius spun around, about to correct him concerning what house he was in, but the other Gryffindors in the class were all making pleading gestures towards him. Since this particular class was composed only of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, who of course hated Slytherin as well, there was no one to contradict Binns.
“Yes, sir,” Sirius said, barely repressing a grin. “I’m very sorry to hear that, sir.”
Then, like a flash, Sirius was gone from the class, liberated, free, and…
… and still stuck with the undeniable realization that he wanted to snog one of his best mates. The feeling lodged in his stomach, not quite making him sick but making him very nervous. He felt as though he’d swallowed half a dozen Peppermint Toads at once. Fancying fellows was nothing new to Sirius, but fancying Remus certainly was. Aimlessly, he wandered down a series of corridors, past the Great Hall, and out onto the grounds, mercifully not running into Filch or his blasted cat on the way.
Sirius skirted the edge of the lake, keeping just inside a layer of brush so that he wouldn’t be spotted from the castle windows. It was a glorious late spring day, with blue skies and white clouds, chirruping birds and the occasional rabbit racing across the turf. Far out in the middle of the lake, the giant squid was reaching a few of its tentacles lazily above the water, apparently enjoying the sunshine. It was all wasted on Sirius though as he was still reeling from the realization he was drawn to Remus. Sitting down on the green grass and fervently wishing the lark over his head would shut its mouth and fly off, he tried to figure out exactly why he was feeling this way.
He’d always like Remus. Of course he had. And when Sirius thought back over the last couple years, he admitted that he’d also always been aware that Remus was remarkably good-looking. Now, in their seventh year, the last traces of his awkward adolescence had faded away. He had grown into his longer limbs and moved with a grace that reminded Sirius simultaneously of a hunting dog and a willow tree.
A willow tree? He was comparing Remus to a willow tree? Sirius snarled at himself and huffed out a great rush of breath in disgust. Finding Remus attractive was one thing, but comparing him to the movement of willow branches in the wind was getting far too close to girly for his taste. So what if Remus’s eyes glowed like warm honey in the sunlight or his hair was the color of wheat at harvest time or his lips looked soft and full like sweets begging to be tasted?
“Mighty Merlin, I sound like James talking about Evans,” he said to himself, grimacing.
But the image of Remus’s lips, which looked so irresistible when he smiled, especially when there was a note of mischief underlying them, simply wouldn’t go away. Sirius sighed heavily again and lay back on the grass, staring up at the sky overhead through the tangle of tree branches, and he began to imagine what kissing Remus might actually be like.
In his mind’s eye, his very active imagination began to construct a fantasy. He pictured their dormitory, perhaps deserted on a day just like this one, except for Moony. He would be studying, of course, pouring over some dusty tome on Defense Against the Dark Arts, learning how to stop a manticore or avoid Inferi or something equally brave but probably useless. Sirius could see him so clearly in his mind that every detail was crisp: Remus’s hair would have slipped from behind his ear onto his cheek, and a shaft of sunlight would be coming from the window over his shoulder, setting his profile into sharp relief and making the tips of his eyelashes glisten like gold.
Sirius would walk into the room, carefully closing the door behind him so as not to make any noise. He’d get as close as a half dozen paces from the bed before Remus would look up suddenly, sensing his presence.
“Padfoot?” he’d ask, obviously wondering why he was in the dormitory rather than out raising mayhem on the grounds. “Something wrong?”
Sirius would shake his head no, not quite trusting his voice from sheer nerves, and he would sit beside Remus on the bed, gently closing the book and no doubt earning an annoyed look from Remus for losing his place.
“What is it, then?” Remus would say, just the smallest hint of impatience lacing his tone.
Then Sirius would simply lean forward and bring their lips together, softly, a quick press, and he could imagine the shock on Moony’s face, the way his lips would tense from sheer surprise. He guessed that his lips would be just a little dry, and maybe a quick exhalation of his breath from a surprised gasp, not unlike his own just minutes ago, would send a warm rush of air over the kiss. Sirius would pull back as quickly as he had brought them together, sheepishly rubbing his hand through the hair at the nape of his own neck as he tried to put words to why he had done this, and Moony would stare at him, his eyes wide.
Yes, Sirius thought. Yes, it could go just like that: a quick peck, a stolen second of bliss. But Sirius’s brain, that instrument fine-tuned to plans, began to churn out another possibility. He wasn’t content, not just yet.
He began another daydream, another plot to capture those sweet lips in a kiss. This time he imagined a quite different setting. The broom cupboard on the third floor wasn’t exactly the most romantic of locations, but Sirius knew from previous experience that when it was locked from the inside, no one could get in, not even Slughorn on a rampage to see who had nicked his best oak-matured mead (which really was rather delicious, as the four of them had found out). They would have complete, utter privacy.
Sirius would wait inside, keeping the door open a crack and watching, waiting for Remus to return from his trip to the library. As Moony would be about to pass the door, he would open it, grab him by the elbow, and draw him inside before he knew what was happening.
“It’s only me,” Sirius would assure him at once, putting him at ease.
“What’s up, Padfoot?” Remus would say, and the delightful smile would light up his lips. “Something interesting going to happen?”
“Oh, I do hope so,” he would say. “I hope something you’ll like very much.”
“Well?” Remus would ask.
Sirius would move closer to him, no mean feat in a cupboard where they would be practically on top of each other anyway. Slowly, he would raise his hand to Remus’s cheek, stroking it tenderly, and he knew Remus would think he was joking at first, could almost see the witty retort dancing on his tongue.
“It’s not a joke, Rem,” Sirius would say, looking him clearly in the eyes in the way he never could when he was lying. “Is this okay?”
Remus would be surprised at first, he was sure, but a pink glow would spread over his face, and Sirius could feel his own eyes falling shut.
“Yes,” Remus could say, the word having a little tremble to it, and Sirius would lower his mouth to Moony’s.
It would be a soft kiss, slow, taking their time. Perhaps it would begin with gentle nipping at one another’s lips, never moving far apart, allowing plenty of time to adjust to the closeness and let the wonder of the moment seep into them fully. Eventually, each kiss would last moments longer, building energy, and they would delve into a deeper kiss, one where their lips met fully and Sirius could begin to taste him. He imagined that Remus would have the faint flavor of coffee on his lips, mixed with the chocolate he so loved, a rich, deep, dark taste. As the kiss progressed, he could imagine Remus angling his head slightly and parting his lips, and Sirius took it for permission to let the tip of his tongue enter. Remus would meet him halfway, and the warmth, the closeness, the bliss of it all would wrap around them both like a quilt.
He supposed eventually they’d need to part to breathe, but he couldn’t imagine breathing being anywhere near as important as kissing Remus, so the break would be but a moment before they were joined again, and this time Remus’s hands would reach up to curl in Sirius’s hair as he moaned quietly, low and deep. Sirius could almost hear it now, and it sent a thrill through him.
Yes, he thought, he could do that. But Sirius’s brain was always seeking to double the impact of whatever he was doing, and his imagination conjured up another image. For a moment he questioned his sanity as the Potions classroom came into his mind. Granted, he loathed the subject not so much because he hated brewing ingredients over smoky fires and reading tedious instructions--though he did hate both--but the real reason he dreaded Potions was because Snape was so utterly wonderful at it. Snivellus would gloat unendingly about the perfection of his concoctions, and it irked Sirius that he really couldn’t pick on him because they were, in fact, annoyingly perfect.
But in this fantasy, finally, something would go dreadfully, wonderfully wrong with dear old Snivy’s potion. Rather than creating the mild Motivating Solution that Slughorn had been trying to explain, Snape’s penchant for embellishment would go too far. Sirius could picture him adding a bit too much of this and that, and suddenly, the room would fill with hazy blue vapors. The strength of the potion would have intensified so much that the sheer scent of it would compel everyone in the room to enact their deepest desires without the least timidity.
Sirius didn’t give much thought to what the others would be doing, though he vaguely imagined that James and Lily would be having quite a lovely time somewhere in the back of the room. Snape, he supposed, would probably be trying to kill all four of them, but he thought Slughorn would be able to put a stop to that quickly enough, maybe forcing him to the Headmaster’s office and leaving the bespelled students alone. And yes, in his mind’s eye, there was Remus.
He could blame it on the spell, Sirius thought as he imagined his dream self reaching towards Moony, taking the wand from his hand and firmly setting it to one side. This time, Remus would be gazing at him raptly, eagerness in his features. Yes, Sirius decided, Remus would want him just as much as he did.
There would be no pause, no gentle questioning now, just the rough smash of the two of them coming together with all the force of long denied desire. In his mind’s eye he could imagine the coarse texture of Moony’s school robes under his fingertips as he pulled him close, and the answering pull on his own clothes as Remus reciprocated, arms wrapped tightly around him. But the surest sensation, the one he craved, was the feel of those hungry lips on his own, battling with one another, teeth and tongues meshing together without the least care as to who might be watching. He imagined sinking his hands into Remus’s soft hair (he knew his hair was soft, it had to be from the look of it, but oh how he wanted to know for certain) and feeling it pass through his fingers like silk. He could imagine a moan escaping from Remus’s lips, pure desire, hot and sweet.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Sirius could imagine himself confessing in the moments when their lips weren’t pressed together. “Wanted to hear that sound from you, wanted to be the one to make you lose control.”
“Wanted it too,” Remus would say, biting Sirius’s lip, almost hard enough to break skin but not quite.
He could imagine dragging Remus onto the desk so they could lie full length against one another and feel the press of one another’s bodies writhing as they kissed, utterly without shame.
Or not, Sirius thought to himself, stopping the fantasy. A table in the dungeon really wouldn’t be the most comfortable place for an intense snog. Knowing his own tendency to overdo it, he’d more than likely break the table and send them both tumbling to floor and knocking over a cauldron, maybe winding up doused in cinders and embers. Still, it would be worth a blow to his dignity and some bumps, scrapes, bruises, maybe even a singe or two, for that scene to be reality.
But he wanted more, and Sirius’s imagination, never one to shirk when called upon, began to spin another tale. The Prefects’ bathroom up on the fifth floor was a place of almost mythic proportions. Very few people had ever been inside it, but once Remus had been given the honor, the rest of the Marauders were soon able to sneak through under that terribly convenient invisibility cloak of James’s. Sirius had to admit, it would almost be worth being one of the morally upstanding sorts in the school just to have the opportunity to take a dip in that gigantic tub any time he liked. Peter had suggested more than once that they use the cloak to spy on a few of the more attractive girls who were prefects, especially a certain Ravenclaw that even Sirius had to admit was wildly pretty, but the rest of them had agreed that it was really taking the thing too far. Privately, Sirius wondered if James was worried that Peter might use it to take a butcher’s at Lily, and frankly, Sirius wouldn’t put it past Wormtail.
Actually spying on someone was one thing, but daydreaming about it, well, Sirius thought, that was quite a different thing. No harm, no foul.
Sirius could imagine hiding under the cover of the cloak, quietly passing various statues and suits of armor, keeping to shadows as it would be long after curfew. The light from the quarter moon would cast deep shadows along the corridor, and when at last he reached the Prefect’s bathroom, he’d whisper the password Moony had told them.
“Bubbles,” he’s say as quietly as possible, and the door would open with a soft click to reveal the bath lit dimly with only a few candles.
Sirius would stay as silent as possible, closing the door softly behind him and then walking soundlessly across the tiled floor. The mermaid would have dozed off long ago, and good riddance to bad rubbish there, but the room would be far from unoccupied. Foam would lie thick and rich across the water in the tub, perfuming the air with a spicy, heady scent, and Remus’s head would be visible just above the froth, his eyes closed and a blissful smile on his face.
Sirius knew he would stand there, hidden from view, and simply watch as Remus breathed softly, the flickering lights of the candles playing across his skin and making it glow beautifully. He would look utterly amazing, perfect. Perhaps Sirius would steal a glance at his clothes, no doubt carefully folded and placed out of the way in a corner so they wouldn’t get wet, and take a moment to realize that Moony was, in fact, completely naked. A shudder passed through Sirius at the thought.
And then, the stillness would be broken.
“I know you’re here, Sirius,” Remus would say, not bothering to open his eyes and that smile turning a bit smug. “I can scent you, you know, Invisibility Cloak or not.”
Sirius would be caught in the act, and he’d probably even have a blush steal across him as he sheepishly let the cloak fall to the floor.
“Blasted wolf senses,” Sirius would grumble. “That’s cheating.”
“And what exactly is sneaking into my bath under the cloak?” Remus would say, opening his eyes and fixing him with an unreadable look.
“Ehm, yeah, about that…,” Sirius would say, fumbling with the cloak since James would bloody kill him if anything happened to it and folding it as something to keep him from having to look at Remus.
“Yeah, about that,” Remus would say, not letting him off the hook. “Is this the first time?”
“You know it is,” Sirius could imagine himself insisting.
“Yes, I know,” Remus would say, stirring to sit up straighter in the water, a few bubbles slipping from his shoulder to his chest and glimmering softly in the candlelight. “I’ve been waiting for you for months now, hoping you’d realize when I mentioned wanting to take a midnight bath I wasn’t just making idle conversation.”
“You… you were expecting me to come to you?” Sirius would say, a catch in his voice.
“Hoped,” Remus would say, blushing. “Only hoped. Join me?”
And then that little trickster would give him a good, sudden pull from the ankles and send him crashing into the bath with all his clothes still on. He’d come up blustering and gasping for air, and Moony would be laughing fit to burst, and he’d start in as well.
But they would be close to one another, so very close, and the words that had been said would still be hanging in the air. Sirius would reach towards him, closing the distance, the water warm and sweetly perfumed. He imagined sitting beside him on the bench that ran round the tub, Remus looking slightly nervous but staying put, holding his gaze. Sirius could almost feel his friend’s hand as he took it in his own beneath the water, taking a moment to feel the lines of his fingers before drawing him even closer.
And then they were kissing. Remus’s hands, warmed and maybe even a bit pruned from the bathwater, would fist themselves into his wet shirt as Sirius let himself pour the heat and the joy of knowing what he wanted wasn’t impossible into the suddenly sure movement of his lips. The momentum would pull them off the bench and into the depths at the center of the pool, where the water was well over their heads. They would let themselves sink beneath the water, still in a kiss, letting the world fall away as they explored one another, until at last they came rushing to the surface to fill their lungs with air, and they found they were both laughing.
“So good,” Sirius would say, his arms wrapped around him, aware that the clothes folded in a corner had been no lie, bare skin smooth and warm against the tips of his fingers. And just think, eventually they’d have to get out of the water, and then…
Remus stopped the daydream abruptly. He’d been nearing the point of no return there, and while he found that he loved the idea of daydreaming endlessly about the kiss that would never happen, he thought if he explored that particular venue any more deeply, he might not be able to look Moony in the eye for the next couple weeks.
He knew that it had to be getting near time for Transfiguration, and while Binns might be easy enough to fool, old McGonagall wasn’t one to trifle with. If he skived off her class, he’d be in for detention and no mistake. Still, there were a few minutes left, and as the forest was so readily at hand, it made as good a place as any for the setting of one last fantasy before he went back to the castle and suffered through turning mice into wombats, then headed back to the dormitory and had a small nervous breakdown when reality hit him.
But for now, the sights and sounds of the Forbidden Forest plunged him into one more daydream. Sirius had always loved the freedom that the forest represented, the memories of nights he spent running with Prongs and Moony in his other form, poor Wormtail clinging to James’s antlers to keep up. But this time, he saw the forest in sunlight, as it was now, with shafts of gold angling through the leafy canopy and dappling the floor with dancing light. On one level, he heard his subconscious, which sounded disturbingly like his mother, telling him that he was going soft and unmanly with words like “dappled” and “leafy,” but the rest of him promptly told the voice to shut it, it was his fantasy, and if he wanted sparkly unicorns in pink tutus doing the Electric Slide, he’d bloody well have them without apology, thank you very much.
Now why was he picturing Moony in a pink tutu again? Oh, bother, he really did need to learn to keep his mind on one train of thought for longer than two minutes.
Ah, yes, he thought, so in the idyllic setting he created, he imagined sitting just as he was now, his back against one of the great trees, staring up at the freshly green colors of the leaves above him, when the sound of a twig snapping would make him snap to attention and draw his wand to ward off an attack from any one of a dozen dark creatures. Sure enough, a rampaging dragon, a good thirty feet long, would be standing mere feet away (though exactly how he wouldn’t have heard it until now was something Sirius decided to pass over in his daydream since who said it needed to be realistic). It was a gigantic Ukrainian Ironbelly, and in its right front talon it clutched none other than Remus himself.
“Sirius, a little help!” he called, and even though he knew it was only a fantasy, Sirius felt his heartbeat pick up pace at the thought of Moody in mortal danger. “I’ve dropped my wand!”
As Sirius would get to his feet, symphonic theme music would start to play from somewhere, including a bunch of tensely sawing cellos and a high trumpet blast. His cloak would furl in the wind as though in slow motion, and suddenly he had not simply a wand, but a sword that glittered menacingly. The Ironbelly would send forth a blast of hot red and green flame, but a simple shout of “Protego!” would render it obsolete. The dragon would roar in utter frustration.
What would follow would be a battle for the ages. The dragon would try to swipe Sirius off his feet with his tail, but he would jump over cleanly as though it were only a skipping rope. As it turned, hurling a fiery blast at him, he would leap lightly through the air, landing between its broad shoulder blades, clinging to its back. He could imagine Remus yelling in alarm as the dragon went into a roll, trying to crush the annoying human creature on its back as though Sirius were only an ant, but he would throw himself clear a split second before he would have been crushed to jelly. As the dragon lay on the ground with its belly exposed, before it could heft its great bulk back up to stand and fight again, Sirius would aim his sword and jab through the heart, killing it as blood spurted in a fountain higher than the treetops and the dragon’s corpse disappeared in an explosion of purple and gold smoke with a thunderous bang. Granted, dragon corpses didn’t actually do that, but this was Sirius’s fantasy and he was sticking to it.
Remus would be lying sprawled on the ground a scant few feet away, and Sirius would rush to his side, concerned over how pale he was.
“Moony, mate? You alright?” he would ask, leaning low over his friend. “Are you hurt at all?”
Remus would move slightly, sending a wave of relief through Sirius, and he would open his eyes and look up at him in awe.
“You… you saved me from a dragon,” he would say, his mouth hanging open. “A ruddy great dragon!”
“I guess I did at that,” Sirius would chuckle. “I suppose that means you owe me one.”
“One what?” Remus would ask, his eyes narrowing.
“I believe the typical favor bestowed on a knight who saves a maiden fair is the boon of a kiss,” Sirius would say with a wink.
“Do I look like a maiden fair to you?” Remus would say, wrinkling his nose.
“I grant you, the flowing blonde hair and requisite pink dress with sequin spangles are missing,” Sirius would say, tipping his head to one side, “but I think I can overlook that.”
“You… you can?” Remus would stammer. “I mean, you’re serious?”
“As you just said, I saved your from a ruddy great dragon. I don’t do that for just anyone,” Sirius would say, and Remus’s grin would turn more than a tad wolfish.
“Do I have to bat my eyelashes and say ‘My hero!’ in a high falsetto?” he would say as he looked up at him, still lying on the ground, Sirius hovering over him protectively.
“Only if that’s your thing,” Sirius would say with a laugh before pouncing on him and giving him a wet, sloppy, playful, but perfectly glorious kiss.
Sirius sighed in contentment. Admittedly, his last fantasy was highly unlikely, but then so were they all. Still, it was wonderful, thinking about the remote, impossible possibility of kissing Remus. He supposed later on he might begin to feel rather depressed about it all, but for now, lying on the grass and staring up at the spring sky, that was far away.
Just then a twig snapped behind him. Bizarrely thinking of his last fantasy, Sirius shot to his feet, wand at the ready, completely expecting to see a dragon staring at him from the path. Instead, what he saw was Remus.
“Oh, it’s you,” Sirius said, looking relieved, but possibly under close inspection more than a little guilty.
“Yes, it’s me,” Remus said, leaning up against the tree. “Who were you expecting?”
Sirius shook his head and stuffed his wand back into his pocket unceremoniously.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said, grinning.
“A Ukrainian Ironbelly, by any chance?” Remus said, coming a step closer.
Sirius stared, his mouth hanging open in shock, completely horrified.
“How… you… how… you…,” he repeated several times, but Remus smiled at him.
“McGonagall sent me to get you from our dormitory on pain of a month’s detention if you don’t show up in the next five minutes. I figured you wouldn’t be able to resist being out-of-doors on a day like this, so I tracked you down,” he said. “You do realize you talk to yourself when you’re daydreaming, don’t you?”
“Exactly how long have you been standing there?” Sirius said, swallowing hard.
“Only a few minutes. I heard you describing a dragon battle and was just waiting to take the mickey out of you. I didn’t realize that it would turn into,” and here Remus did color a bit, “anything else.”
“Oh,” Sirius said.
For once in his life, he was completely at a loss for words. The two of them stood there, silent, as the breeze ruffled the leaves overhead and a bird somewhere started to call.
“Do you?” Remus asked, finally breaking the silence with little more than a whisper.
Sirius couldn’t meet his eyes, but he knew well enough what Remus must be talking about. He thought for a crazy minute about playing it off as a great joke. They’d laugh about it and go back into the Great Hall and it would all be just as it was before. Except, of course, Sirius would know he’d lied, that he hadn’t had the nerve to say the truth. He took a moment, then lifted his gaze from the grass beneath his feet and looked Remus square in the face.
“Yes,” he said simply. “I do.”
He wasn’t sure what to expect, but revulsion or shock were the biggest contenders. However, the expression on Moony’s face didn’t hold a shadow of those things. Instead, what he saw was wonder and happiness.
“Sirius, I’ve felt the same way for a year now. All you had to do was ask,” he said, smiling.
“I… you… wait, what?” Sirius said intelligently.
“Maybe showing is better than telling,” Remus said, and he kissed him.
It wasn’t how Sirius had imagined it at all, but as he held Remus close and felt his arms entwining around him, it was so much better than he ever could have dreamed.
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no subject
Date: 2012-02-29 02:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-29 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-29 03:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-29 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-29 03:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-29 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-29 05:40 am (UTC)Gosh, I just loved this. ♥
no subject
Date: 2012-02-29 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-29 07:23 pm (UTC)I was kinda disappointed with the resolution because I have a hard time buying that Sirius talks out loud when he daydreams (does anyone, for that matter?). It did bring a bit of humour though! :)
no subject
Date: 2012-02-29 09:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-02 02:40 am (UTC)Must admit I imagined Sirius acting out the dragon scene with gusto rather than merely supplying a narrative to his thoughts. hee-hee
Delightful.
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Date: 2012-03-03 02:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-05 01:41 am (UTC)