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@wolfstarmicrofic - 234 words

“Stretch your imagination.” Sirius raises a hand, as if he wants to paint a picture with it. “You and I, alone. Just us and the beach. And the sunset, and the clouds...”

“Such a place doesn't exist.” Not for them at least. Sirius, never free to walk again, because the Government is stupid, him, marked a werewolf wherever he goes. Harry may have that, and Remus is happy for him, but them, two old dogs, beaten up by fate until they were too ugly for the public eye... never.

“It does.” Sirius sighs. “I saw it.”

“When? Where?”

“In my dreams.”

Would that they could dream together and never wake up again into the reality of a state who gives a shite about the people who fought for its freedom. “You are not suggesting suicide, are you?” One has to be careful with Sirius lately. Hopelessness does strange things to people.

“No.” Sirius shakes his head. “I suggest we leave. There are safe places in the world. In the Caribbean. The rest of Europe, Africa. Asia...” He sniffs. He never wanted to leave. He is an Englishman at heart – and yet. The thorn sits too deep for forgiveness, for contenting themselves with what little they can have.

@wolfstarmicrofic - 138 words

The moss needs to be properly hydrated to grow and be usable for his recipe against the after-effects of Dementor exposure, but Sirius never quite manages. The potion still works, kind of, but never as good as it could be.

Sirius curses at the blasted plants, as if they specifically trying to thwart him. It must be. It seems to wither on purpose once he lays eyes on it.

@wolfstarmicrofic - 138 words

“Beater is the best position, but not everyone can be a Beater,” the Magpie player mocks Harry, who still has a bit of a problem with his self-worth. After he saved the wix of Britain he feels like he can't justify his continued existence thereafter.

Sirius has no such qualms. “Being a Beater is shite. You get hit all the time, are soaked through by the end of the game and look like someone has kicked you – preferably in the face.”

“You were a Beater!” another player counters, but Sirius is unfazed, hitting Harry's back gently and full of support.

“That's how I know.”

“Then what is the best position?”

@wolfstarmicrofic - 213 words

“I pulled a muscle. I fucking pulled a muscle!” Sirius snarls like the rabid dog thing wasn't just for the show and points towards his neck and shoulder. His hair is grey and wrinkles have changed the look to something less roguish and more old warhorse, but he can still be dramatic, if he wants to – and a pulled muscle is clearly a catastrophe. It means he is not a young man anymore. It means he can't play little horse with the grandchildren like he used to. It means more than every single streak of salt and pepper. He has to pace himself, and Sirius isn't good at that. Never has been. Always very nearly dying for those he loves.

Remus shakes his head, as he comes closer and gently massages the pain away. “Oh dear magic, the universe has tilted.”

@drarrymicrofic

Draco would love to catch a look or the other. He would sneak into the showers, if he would get away with it, or find a reason to visit the Aurors' gym... an Unspeakable can go very nearly everywhere. But Potter would know. It is unacceptable that he ever even suspects – this is a question of modesty, or something like that.

Unfortunately Potter never shows any skin beyond what everyone can see. One would think he had something to hide. Which makes Draco only more curious, and more excited.

At long last he gets a chance, when Potter catches an unknown curse and needs an Unspeakable to check it out – but oh...

As Potter undresses, revealing sculpted muscle and a myriad of scars, Draco's hearts stumbles and his breath stops. He had learned to love scars, and still, these are a different level. They are... something else.

Darco can't help but run his fingers along one, forgetting everything around him. He startles, when Potter coughs politely. “Are we going to start soon?”

“Yes, yes, yes...” Draco stumbles. “It will take no time.”

@wolfstarmicrofic - 209 words

Sirius is usually so composed, looking at everything like it doesn't concern him at all. If he is scolded by a teacher or a girl declares her love for him – again. To be honest, even Remus is bored after the third time of it happening, but Sirius wasn't even fazed by the first.

Remus, even when he told him that he, too, had fallen for his charm, never expected him to loose his cool at all. It was not something that was supposed to happen. Sirius had been served ice-water instead of mother's milk.

Yet, as he slowly, slowly sinks to his knees, noses Sirius' middle and just barely thinks of opening his trousers, Sirius whines like he is suffocating and his hands scramble for purchase on the side of them.

He dares not move, but shakes in place like a brittle leave on a winter tree. It's exciting, it's unexpected, it's beautiful.

Remus can't believe he can see it, he is allowed to take the hands, gently relax them and put them into his hair to show it is allowed to unsettle it.

@wolfstarmicrofic - 153 words

They slide down the wall, next to each other, breathless and triumphant. Filch saw, but didn't identify and certainly didn't catch them. Now, safely in the protection of an elaborate confusion and hiding spell, relief, joy and adrenaline make a sweet poison that breaks way as nervous laughter.

Remus still feels his heart beating, and equally profoundly Sirius' too. Suddenly his friend turns and kisses him, right on the lips. It could be an accident. Sirius could excuse it with the excitement. He doesn't. He just leans in more, kisses deeper. He never asks for permission, and yet, Remus feels like even the shadow of doubt would push him away.

@wolfstarmicrofic - 290 words

The bench was a forgotten place in a forgotten corridor of the school. Remus only knew about it, because Sirius told him once. James had found it on one of his research trips for the Marauders Map, but forgotten again as soon as he told Sirius. They worked like this often. It was more of the reason why they stuck together, not the overwhelming harmony thing everyone imagined. Remus had seen them argue and knew better – and it gave him hope, as he slowly went towards the bench. If Sirius was waiting there like he promised, if the thing he had to tell him, alone, thanks very much, was important... maybe it wasn't about James. Maybe it was about him. Maybe...

Remus' thoughts were a merry-go-around by the time he arrived. Sirius was already waiting, sitting on the mossy bank and watching his own feet swing back and forth. It was a worrying sight.

“Are you okay?” The worries and hopes of before were forgotten.

“Sure... I... I try to be courageous, is all.” Sirius grinned uneasily. “So... do you... like me?”

“You are my friend,” Remus muttered in his panic. “Of course I like you.” It was as embarrassing as it was disappointing. He liked Sirius much more, and differently, and... hell, Sirius had asked him about it, just now. And... he was too scared to admit it.

“Well... I want to be more than just your friend...” Sirius looked at the floor before Remus feet, humble as never.

@wolfstarmicrofic - 180 words

The weight of my decisions, it starts to crush me, the moment I see the shadow of the dark scruffy dog close to treeline at dusk. I knew he escaped from Azkaban. I knew he was bound to show up here, no matter if the horror stories everyone told were true or not. He would come to kill us, Harry and me, or save us from whatever danger he perceived or imagined.

@wolfstarmicrofic - 359 words

It's another day to the pole, or so Magnus claims, but Remus simply can't tell. He's just the look-out, meant to scare animals away and find cracks in the ice, before they swallow one of their sleds. He didn't expect to see anything but white all day. Instead a sharp dark shape lies ahead, the form distorted and nearly imperceptible due to all the blinding whiteness.

Only when they come closer – and so does the shape, they see what it is. Another sled, dragged by a man instead of dogs. Remus can't tell if he is young or old, small or big, or anything at all through the thick layers of leather and fur, but he can tell that the man isn't scared. His dark eyes scan them all, and they don't measure up. “Turn around, people.”

Magnus curses and then refuses. “We will reach the pole or die trying.”

The man barks something akin to a laugh. “You can do that. The die part, that is. The ice is cracking – my friend back there...” He points at his sled, where something is indeed moving. “He has got twice the experience of yours and still broke a leg.” No one gets saved if they have an accident here. No man would risk their life like that for someone else. Only this man does.

Remus feels an instant spark of... is it sympathy? Is it more? He always had a thing for emotionally strong men.

“I can take you back to safety, if you choose.”

Magnus wants to press on, but the rest of the team is less eager to meet their demise. They'll try again next year. It's not like they'll be the first anyway. Still, reaching the pole where others failed is their ultimate goal, and maybe, Remus thinks, this man is the key for him.

He runs next to him, helps drag the sled with, how he finds out, James. “You seem pretty good here.”

@wolfstarmicrofic - 339 words

We clench our teeth and say our prayers, and then he comes, dark, beautiful, dangerous. He goes along the line of us misfits, deciding our fate on a whim. Those of us who find no mercy – we'll be send to the werewolf reservation and fall under the tyrant Greyback's rule. It is a horrible fate, and yet, this might be worse. Sirius Black is here to choose a new pet, and none of us knows what happened to the last.

One by one he checks us over, and it feels just short of opening our mouths to check our teeth. One by one he dismisses my comrades, the sharp tilt of disappointment sharper in the corner of his mouth with each look.

When he arrives at me, I want to look away. I am not an aggressive werewolf. I tend to submit, and he bleeds dominance like only a natural leader can. But I am curious. I blink up at him, and it takes my breath.

He is so gorgeous, so overwhelmingly charismatic. I could coil around his feet and be happy forever. It's embarrassing, but that makes it no less true. If I was in wolf, I'd probably wag my tail.

There is a spark in his eyes, and I know I have been chosen. I am not sure, until he puts his collar on me, before the rest of the wolves are lead away, and I can relax. I don't have to perform any longer.

Still, I am worried, when he takes me with him, when he shows me my room, when he feeds me. He catches up with it quickly. “You know... you look so terribly worried. You want to know so badly, but you don't dare ask.” His hand settles on my head. “Where is he now? The truth is: I don't know myself. Scandinavia is such a huge place.”

I pale. Freedom is frightening.

“I might consider keeping you, though. You look so cosy.”