10 Days of Summer - Chapter 2
Hey guys! Here is chapter two!!! As always, constructive criticism is welcome, homophobic bitching is not. I love you!!
Sirius had always been an early riser. There was just something about the way the sun shot pink and orange daggers to shatter the impenetrable frost of the night that drew him. Soothed him. He couldnât count how many mornings he had spent on the roof of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, observing a world rarely seen. Keeping the company of the moon, she who shone her light for unseeing eyes, as she slipped from darkâs cruel grasp and was liberated, to finally rest. Watching as, one by one, the stars faded into nothingness and the great eastern orb returned to claim the sky for its own. And so, it will likely come as no surprise that when we rejoin our protagonist, he is partaking in the same activity as he had every morning for the last 12 years.
The sun had a peculiar way of setting the world on fire. It was never loud or obnoxious. It didnât burst into the sky in a shower of confetti and yell of its presence for all to hear. It seeped over the horizon, inch by inch, so that even the most attentive of onlookers could never pinpoint the exact moment that night turned to day. Sirius sat perched on the roof of the Potterâs, watching smoke from his cigarette unfurling in that inexplicable, mesmerizing way that it does. But one can only sit alone on a roof for so long before oneâs mind starts to wander. In Siriusâ case, it found its way to the boy sleeping on the sofa downstairs.
He had always been drawn by Remus. From the moment theyâd met, something about that awkward, scar-ridden 11-year-old had caught his eye. Maybe it was the way his timid hands had quivered when they shook hands for the first time, or the way his eyes gleamed with a type of gold that a thousand goblins couldnât conjure. Ever since that moment, he always wanted to be around him. To be close to him. It was impossible to explain, but Sirius was under a spell that not even the most powerful wizard in the world could break.
He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a window creaking open. He turned around and was shocked by the sight of Remus climbing through the attic window and out onto the roof of the Potter house.
âMorning.â Remusâ morning voice never failed to take Siriusâ breath away. Simultaneously gravelly and soft, it enveloped him in what could only be described as comfort.
âHeyâ, Sirius said, and it was frankly impressive how many voice cracks he managed to fit into that one, short word. Clearing his throat, the smitten boy persisted; âI thought you were afraid of heights?â
Nice one Sirius. Make him think you see him as a wimp. Thatâll get him to fall in love with you.
Sirius internally cursed himself for his insensitivity, fully expecting Remus to turn right back around and go back inside out of anger. It was to his surprise, therefore, that Remus smiled and settled down next to him.
âI was. But these last few transformations⌠I donât know. Every time the wolf rips me apart, I feel like Iâm going to die. And so, after I changed back the last time, I decided that I wouldnât waste whatever time I have left being scared of things that donât matter. Because there is no way to know which full moon is going to be my last.â A heavy silence settled over the boys. As the weight of Remusâ confession sank in, Sirius found himself on the edge of tears. He knew it was selfish, but he couldnât help thinking about how he would survive if Remus did die. If, one day, the blood on the floor of the shrieking shack would become too much, and they would all drown in its repercussions.
Wordlessly, Remus reached over and took hold of Siriusâ cigarette. Their fingers brushed only for a second, but it felt like forever and was over too soon. A shiver ran down Siriusâ spine at the feeling of Remusâ cold finger on his. His finger, surprisingly unmarred compared to the rest of his body, seemed to set every nerve in Siriusâ body in fire. That simple act of proximity was enough to set his heart beating at a rate that, frankly, shouldnât be allowed.
When Remus withdrew his fingers, the cigarette perched between them, Sirius was left tingling in the small but infinite point of contact, and he vowed never to wash that hand again, lest he lose the shimmering ecstasy that the tingling brought. The situation was not improved by Remusâ decision to bring the cigarette to his lips, placing his mouth exactly where Siriusâ had been only seconds before. He took a long, languid drag from the joint, his beautiful lips perfectly shaping to exhale the smoke. Sirius marveled at how this boy could make even an act as simple as taking a puff from a cigarette seem like the most sensual, lascivious experience of his life. Siriusâ mind was flooded with obscene thoughts of what he wanted to do to those lips, what he wanted them to do to him. He felt dizzy at the thought (although that might have also had something to do with the sudden lack of blood in his head; it seemed to have decided that it was needed elsewhere).
The stillness was shattered by a hacking cough.
âMerlin, what the fuck is in this thing?â Remus exclaimed through another shuddering cough.
âItâs only a cigaretteâ, Sirius answered, confused.
Remus laughed. âI know that, dipshit. But why? What the fuck are you doing out here at bloody six in the morning smoking this cheap shit? Here.â
Sirius watched in bewilderment as Remus reached into his sweater pocket and withdrew a long, hand rolled joint.
âWhat is it?â, he asked stupidly.
Once again, he found himself blessed by the presence of Remusâ gorgeous laugh. âItâs weed. Marijuana. Itâs a muggle drug.â
Sirius was skeptical. âAnd itâs better than cigarettes?â
Before Sirius had a chance to say anything, Remus was bringing the joint up to Siriusâ lips. Startled, Sirius instinctively parted them, and let the rough paper of the tip slide in. Then, Remusâ fingers skimmed his lower lip, and he was paralyzed. His mind was plunged into a world of haze, where his lip and Remusâ fingers existed alone. Where all the unsaid words were unimportant, and all that mattered was that Remus was touching him.
But something inside him realized the sheer impossibility of that dream and brought him back to reality. A reality where Remus would never love him back, because why would he? Why would an ethereal creature like Remus Lupin, with all his intangible beauty, pay any attention to a bratty pureblood who couldnât even tell the difference between a mandrake and a spinach leaf?
Well, Sirius concluded, if this is the closest I ever get to him, I may as well make the most of it.
Sirius sighed, leaning into Remusâ touch. Memorizing the sensation of cold fingers on his skin. But Remus drew back. Sirius supposed he must have angered him with his display of intimacy, because a red flush was creeping up his neck and highlighting his cheeks.
Drawing back, Sirius cleared his throat, which was not an easy feat, due to the joint now in his mouth. When he was satisfied that an ordinary level of awkwardness had been restored between them, he lit his joint. Almost immediately, he felt a wave of relaxation wash over him. It was amazing, the sensation of every muscle in his body loosening, becoming calm. The tension was gone from his shoulders, and he couldnât even remember why he had been worried about this in the first place. He had never felt anything better.
He felt a tug on the spliff and opened his mouth so it could slide out, the paper sticking to his lips. It was Remus, of course. He took it into those elegant, beautiful fingers and took a puff, closing his eyes as the glorious smoke entered his system. After a couple of seconds, he exhaled again, the smoke rippling through his voluptuous lips and ascending to join the clouds in their endless dance of mesmerising shapeshifting.
The rest of the morning was spent that way, sharing that slice of euphoria, tucked away on a rooftop in a tiny corner of a tiny island in a huge, huge world.
The sun was dipping into the west now, and James and Peter had long since engaged themselves in a fierce game of monopoly. Surprisingly, Peter was doing very well. Although James would later claim that he âlet Peter winâ, it was clear to see that he was severely frustrated by his lack of success. Although, his agitation might have had something to do with his anticipation of the next day; the girls had agreed to come over in the morning and stay for a couple of nights. Inevitably, James had spent many hours fretting over what to say when Lily arrived, before finally agreeing to partake in a game of monopoly to settle his nerves. Clearly, this hadnât helped. To their merit, Remus and Sirius had abstained from the activity, aware that an apprehensive James and board games were never a good combination. They had instead elected to watch, which proved to be a far more enjoyable pastime.
âThatâs it!â, James exclaimed, throwing his money down on the table. âI donât get this dumb muggle game. Iâm going for a walk.â He pushed back his chair with an unpleasant screech and stormed out the front door, leaving a bewildered Peter in his wake. They didnât have long to revel in the absence of Jamesâ intense leg-jiggling, however. The door had barely swung close before it was wrenched open again, and James came thundering back in, unchanged, except for the fact that he was now soaking wet.
Fuming, he mumbles something about âsârainingâ, and sloshed his way up the stairs. A distant door slammed, and the house was quiet once more.
âWellâ, Sirius clapped his hands together. âIâm starving. Dinner?â
Peter perked up at the mention of sustenance but was quickly shot down by Remusâ next statement.
âIn case you havenât noticed, we canât exactly walk to town in this weather. And the muggle delivery place wonât come out here in the rain.â
But Sirius was unperturbed. âWell Iâll cook something! Peter, why donât you go make the guest rooms up for the girls, and Remus and I will whip something up for tea.â
Peter quickly scampered upstairs, not one to pass up an opportunity to clean a bedroom (it was one of his many unappreciated blessings; the need for cleanliness).
Left alone now, Sirius turned to Remus. Just being close to him was enough to set his heart racing, but he pushed that down.
Not right now. Weâre just cooking. Just two friends, making dinner for their other two, less sophisticated friends.
However, he found himself unsure of how to proceed. So, as a demonstration of his ever-present sophistication, he decided to go with the most refined of communicative methods: finger guns.
Immediately regretting the decision, he dropped his arms to his side and cleared his throat for what was probably nearing the millionth time that day. âShall we?â Remus nodded.
The Pottersâ kitchen was sprawling with innumerable cupboards and drawers, all immaculately designed and painted to create a blend of antique styles and modern methods. There were 3 ovens, and a number of industrial fridges, including a blast-freezer. A mini fridge sat on the bench, containing sodas of all flavours and, further back, expensive alcohols. To Sirius, who had grown up in the dingy prison of Grimmauld Place, it was heaven.
He walked over to the industrial fridge and started pulling out ingredients, ideas flooding his mind. Although he would never admit it, cooking was one of Siriusâ guilty pleasures. The thought of so many elements, things that are seemingly useless of bland, coming together to form a gastronomical masterpiece was something that he enjoyed immensely. Within minutes, he was working away at a bouillabaisse, the pastry for a quiche already in the oven, and an ice-cream mixture chilling in the fridge.
Remus was watching in amazement from his perch on the island bench, a cold raspberry soda in his hand.
âWhere did you learn to cook?â he asked, unable to tear his eyes from the mesmerizing bubbling of the bouillabaisse.
Sirius blushed. âAndy taught me, actually. After she moved in with Ted. I would go and visit her every Saturday and help out around the house when Ted was out working.â
Remus was well aware of Siriusâ feelings about Ted Tonks. Although he had not approved of him initially, believing strongly that Andromeda was worthy of someone better, he had seen how passionately he cared for his family, and grown to like the stumpy little man.
âShe says she learned from Tedâs mother, who was a chef in France before the Depression. She said that Andy had a knack for it, and so taught her everything she knew. Since no one in the ministry would take her in fear of her parents getting mad, she decided to do everything she can at home, taking care of the house and of little Nymphadora.â
âOh yeah, how is she going? God, she must be going on a year now!â Remus asked, remembering the pictures Sirius had shown him of his baby cousin when she was born.
âSheâs doing good. It really is a breath of fresh air, seeing that even in the midst of the oncoming war, there is still such innocence and good in the world. But at the same time, Iâm terrified that she might have to grow up in a world governed by Voldemort.â His voice shook on that last sentence, his throat swelling painfully as tears sprung to his eyes. He tried to blink them back, unwilling to let Remus see that side of him, but they knew each other too well. With two quick strides, Remus was across the room, enveloping him in a hug.
Sirius sank into it, letting himself be consumed by the warmth or Remus. By that comforting smell of nutmeg and tea, coupled with chocolate and books. The brush of leather jacket on woolen sweater, the feeling of heads on shoulders and hands on backs. And he knew that, as long as this boy was in the world, everything would always be okay.
After dinner, the boys had opted to take their dessert into the living room and watch a movie. Remus had suggested Titanic, and James had protested for all of 5 seconds before remembering that Rose bore a slight resemblance to one Lily Evans and supporting the idea wholeheartedly. But now the movie had ended, and the boys found themselves, yet again, in limbo between waking and sleeping. At some point during the movie, Remus had moved over to snuggle next to Sirius, and it hadnât taken long before they were sprawled out on the sofa, Remusâ head on Siriusâ chest. Sirius had tried no to think anything of it, justifying that Remus was tired and probably didnât even know what he was doing. But a small part of him couldnât help but wonder, couldnât help but hope.
Remus opened his eyes and looked out the window into the dark garden. The night sky was speckled with a tapestry of a thousand stars, each one so small, yet burning with a fire so intense it could consume everything they held dear in less than a second. There was no moon in the sky that night.
Then Remus turned his head to look up at Sirius, his golden eyes meeting grey ones.
âItâs stopped rainingâ, he said.
Sirius looked up, and saw that the skies had, in fact, cleared.
Glancing down again, he went to reply, but was cut short by the sight before him. Remus was asleep, safe in his best friendâs arms. And so, Sirius spoke his answer for the unlistening ears of the night.
I hope you liked it!! It is up on ao3 as well, and the next chapter will be coming soon! Please reblog is you liked it, Iâm smol and would love more people to see it. thankyou!!
