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prompt for Day 18
Packing | Day 18 | PG | 337 words
Remus had been cleaning out his closet, packing threadbare robes into a beat-up suitcase in preparation to return to Hogwarts after some 20 years' absence. Even with the circumstances, it felt to Remus like a homecoming of sorts. Hogwarts had been his home for seven years, more of a home, sometimes, than the house where he had spent the 11 years before it. At Hogwarts everything had been right, and it was only after they had left that everything had gone wrong.
Remus had been packing his memories among the folds of patched fabric and the pages of well-loved books. Memories would do him no good if he was going to protect the boy from his own godfather. His father's best friend. Remus'...No, it would do no good to think that way, so he packed that thought, too, between a tweed jacket with elbow patches and a sheaf of lesson plans, written on Muggle paper rather than parchment because it was cheaper.
Remus had been putting the last robe in the suitcase when he spotted the small box stuffed in one corner of the closet, which had been hidden by hanging robes that were no longer there. He picked it up, brushing off what was probably 13 years of dust and opened it, collapsing to sit on the bed when he saw its contents.
It was a sweater, cable-knit and warm, its smooth black fibers faded to a soft grey by years and washing. Sirius' sweater: Remus had borrowed it from him, the night he had gone out without explanation and come back a fugitive. Remus didn’t even remember having put it away.
Remus had been packing up one part of his life and moving on to another, stepping out of limbo and up to the next great adventure. Though it was warm outside, not even autumn yet, though he could taste the season on the breeze, Remus put on the sweater, the scent of the man 13 years gone filling him with promise rather than dread.
prompt for Day 19
Exactly According to Plan | Day 19 | G | 133 words
"But bonfires are a summer thing!" James said, for once trying to convince them out of a prank.
"Are you sure that's not Lily talking?" Remus asked innocently, and Sirius and Peter laughed.
"No, that's the Head Boy talking and –- " James began, but Lily cut him off.
"I think it's a wonderful idea," she said, and the other three Marauders grinned. "We can talk to the headmaster, James; I'm sure he''l agree that a little organized trouble on Halloween will keep anything really nasty from happening. We can go talk to him now. Remus, why don't you come with?"
James nodded glumly, and the other three Marauders shared a conspiratorial look. Remus squeezed Sirius' hand before he followed James and Lily out the portrait hole. Things were going exactly according to plan.
prompt for Day 20
Names for What Binds Us | Day 20 | NC-17 | 487 words
"There are names for what binds us," Remus whispered as Sirius ran his fingers over his back, tracing the scars as they crossed each other and blended from one to the next. It was almost as if the other man was trying to memorize them, or remind himself of something he'd forgotten. Sirius had admitted once, in the year he was on the run after the disaster with Peter in the Shack, that he'd forgotten some of his favorite memories, unable to keep the Dementors from slowly leaching the joy from them.
"And see how the flesh grows back across a wound," he added, tracing Sirius' scars and tattoos, which he was only now able to fully explore. It had been awkward, seeing Sirius again after so long, after thinking for so long that he was the traitor. The gaunt skeleton of a man, with his dead eyes and knarled hands, could not be the man Remus had loved, still loved, if he was totally honest with himself. They hadn't spoken, really, just sat together whenever they were in the same country, but somehow things had begun to mend.
"...more strong than the simple untested surface before," Remus continued, letting Sirius press him back against the bed. The silent man had added his lips to his explorations, and Remus gasped as Sirius rediscovered sensitive spots that hadn't been touched in 15 years. He rested his hands on Sirius' shoulders, but made no move to interrupt or steer his movements. Remus' eyes drifted closed and he focused on a bit of memorization himself.
"When two people love each other –- " he began, but was cut off as Sirius kissed him. Remus moaned slightly into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the other man's back. It was bonier than it should have been, but less than it had been a year and a half ago in the Shack. The kiss was almost hesitant, and Remus followed Sirius' lead, sighing when a small bottle found its way into his hand.
"Stronger, darker, and proud," Remus said as he prepared Sirius carefully, watching the other man's face and cupping one sunken cheek with his free hand. Sirius leaned into the touch, and only then began making noise, small whimpering moans in time with Remus' movements and a low groan when Remus slid into him.
Remus stopped talking then, focusing instead on sensations, renewing the connection they had had so long ago. It was changed now, there was no way it couldn't change, but it was still there. They came together, soft breathless moans where there had once been loud cries. In some ways, Remus though this way was better.
He cradled a sleeping lover against his chest, covers pulled up against the autumn chill that filled the dark old house. "A single fabric that nothing can tear or mend," he whispered against Sirius' hair, and the other man curled closer. "Nothing."
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