chase_acow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chase_acow) wrote2004-05-11 08:24 pm
chase_acow) wrote2004-05-11 08:24 pm
Entry tags:
HP fic Paths
Title: Paths we tread
Author: Jessifer
Summery: Sirius centered. Sirius/Remus. Set sometime during Order of the Phoenix
Rating: PG
Notes: This story jumped quickly out of my head, due I think in part to the past several days of limited contact with any kind of world outside my door. My inner sadist wants to set this the weekend before the Ministry Incident. Alas.
“Midway in our journey, I went astray from the straight road and woke to find myself alone in a dark wood.” ~ Dante’s Inferno
Sirius stared up at the ceiling above his bed, doing what he believed was the only reason that the wee hours of the morning had been created. Pondering the paths that had led him from the boy he was to the man he is. Some may call it brooding, but Sirius was past that point now. He no longer sweated regret as if it was the only essence he held in his body. He looked at his past with an air of sadness and nothing more, knowing nothing he could do now would change one thing.
In Azkaban, he danced on the edge of a knife. Night and day quickly blended together; he ate when there was food in front of him, urinated when the need arose, and slept as much as possible. For so long, sleep was the only escape for an inmate of that cursed place. He was alone for so long, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to stand the touch human if he ever did get out. But that was the rub, wasn’t it? Even if by some miracle he was released, the effects of years spent alone and dirty in more ways then one were irreversible.
In Azkaban, every memory was to be treasured more then gold or precious gems. Every memory of James and Lily and Remus were dear, clutched tightly to his chest and fought for. But that was what brought the demon-spawn guards, the warm feelings that only those memories could smuggle inside the stone walls. And that was the dance that he danced for years. He rationed the memories like a man who has only so much water and knows in his heart he’ll die anyway.
Eventually, he ran out. It wasn’t a gradual process, that he might have been able to bare. One day, like a hole in the bottom of a bucket, he just couldn’t carry the memories anymore. He was too retched, too disgusting, he didn’t deserve the peace he attainted every so often. He had killed his two best friends, and he deserved to join them. Azkaban had beat him and there was nothing he could do to save himself. Nothing he would do even if he could.
That’s the way it might have ended for Sirius Black, if it hadn’t been for a chance newspaper. One of the first things he did upon gaining his freedom was to stand out in the rain, his arms outstretched, and his face turned to the sky. He’d found out then, that there wasn’t enough rain in the entire heavens to wash him clean. For the first time, he cried. He’d sobbed and wailed, cursing fate and anything else his eyes happened to fall on, and then, he felt better.
He found Harry Potter and he found hope. He found Remus Lupin and he discovered love. Harry was everything he could have wanted for James and Lily, a godson he’d give his own life up to save. With Remus, he found the courage to forgive himself, and something he would never have expected. They were both entirely different people from the last time they spoke. After the initial shock, they circled each other like two dogs wanting to be friends but unsure of the first step.
The reestablishment of the Order brought them together suddenly in a situation that would not allow them to take things slowly. They became friends, partners, and then lovers. Sirius found he not only could stand Remus’ caressing, but that he ached for them, became addicted to the warmth. That something as wonderful as his relationship with Remus had come out of the disaster of his life never failed to amaze Sirius. A price he would never have willingly paid, but with the choice taken away he listened to Remus’ tender whisperings and knew that everything would turn out all right.
That optimism, he often thought that was what the Sorting Hat looked for when choosing Gryiffindors. The faith, or stupidity, to believe that no matter what came along, what dark paths they were forced to tread everything would work out for the best in the end. What one often failed to realize was that just because a solution is the best, does not mean it’s necessarily favorable from your perspective. Sirius was a Gryiffindor, through his skin and into his very marrow and beyond. Whatever came at them tomorrow, or the next day, whatever happened in the oncoming war, everything would work out.
“Sirius, you’re thinking too loud. How am I supposed to sleep?” Remus muttered sleepily rolling away from Sirius and curling around a pillow.
Sirius smiled, a genuine one and not something he’d had to practice in front of the mirror to make it look right. He rolled over the same way, tucking one arm possessively around Remus’ stomach and following his lover into the land of dreams.
“And we walked out once more beneath the stars.” Dante’s Inferno
Author: Jessifer
Summery: Sirius centered. Sirius/Remus. Set sometime during Order of the Phoenix
Rating: PG
Notes: This story jumped quickly out of my head, due I think in part to the past several days of limited contact with any kind of world outside my door. My inner sadist wants to set this the weekend before the Ministry Incident. Alas.
“Midway in our journey, I went astray from the straight road and woke to find myself alone in a dark wood.” ~ Dante’s Inferno
Sirius stared up at the ceiling above his bed, doing what he believed was the only reason that the wee hours of the morning had been created. Pondering the paths that had led him from the boy he was to the man he is. Some may call it brooding, but Sirius was past that point now. He no longer sweated regret as if it was the only essence he held in his body. He looked at his past with an air of sadness and nothing more, knowing nothing he could do now would change one thing.
In Azkaban, he danced on the edge of a knife. Night and day quickly blended together; he ate when there was food in front of him, urinated when the need arose, and slept as much as possible. For so long, sleep was the only escape for an inmate of that cursed place. He was alone for so long, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to stand the touch human if he ever did get out. But that was the rub, wasn’t it? Even if by some miracle he was released, the effects of years spent alone and dirty in more ways then one were irreversible.
In Azkaban, every memory was to be treasured more then gold or precious gems. Every memory of James and Lily and Remus were dear, clutched tightly to his chest and fought for. But that was what brought the demon-spawn guards, the warm feelings that only those memories could smuggle inside the stone walls. And that was the dance that he danced for years. He rationed the memories like a man who has only so much water and knows in his heart he’ll die anyway.
Eventually, he ran out. It wasn’t a gradual process, that he might have been able to bare. One day, like a hole in the bottom of a bucket, he just couldn’t carry the memories anymore. He was too retched, too disgusting, he didn’t deserve the peace he attainted every so often. He had killed his two best friends, and he deserved to join them. Azkaban had beat him and there was nothing he could do to save himself. Nothing he would do even if he could.
That’s the way it might have ended for Sirius Black, if it hadn’t been for a chance newspaper. One of the first things he did upon gaining his freedom was to stand out in the rain, his arms outstretched, and his face turned to the sky. He’d found out then, that there wasn’t enough rain in the entire heavens to wash him clean. For the first time, he cried. He’d sobbed and wailed, cursing fate and anything else his eyes happened to fall on, and then, he felt better.
He found Harry Potter and he found hope. He found Remus Lupin and he discovered love. Harry was everything he could have wanted for James and Lily, a godson he’d give his own life up to save. With Remus, he found the courage to forgive himself, and something he would never have expected. They were both entirely different people from the last time they spoke. After the initial shock, they circled each other like two dogs wanting to be friends but unsure of the first step.
The reestablishment of the Order brought them together suddenly in a situation that would not allow them to take things slowly. They became friends, partners, and then lovers. Sirius found he not only could stand Remus’ caressing, but that he ached for them, became addicted to the warmth. That something as wonderful as his relationship with Remus had come out of the disaster of his life never failed to amaze Sirius. A price he would never have willingly paid, but with the choice taken away he listened to Remus’ tender whisperings and knew that everything would turn out all right.
That optimism, he often thought that was what the Sorting Hat looked for when choosing Gryiffindors. The faith, or stupidity, to believe that no matter what came along, what dark paths they were forced to tread everything would work out for the best in the end. What one often failed to realize was that just because a solution is the best, does not mean it’s necessarily favorable from your perspective. Sirius was a Gryiffindor, through his skin and into his very marrow and beyond. Whatever came at them tomorrow, or the next day, whatever happened in the oncoming war, everything would work out.
“Sirius, you’re thinking too loud. How am I supposed to sleep?” Remus muttered sleepily rolling away from Sirius and curling around a pillow.
Sirius smiled, a genuine one and not something he’d had to practice in front of the mirror to make it look right. He rolled over the same way, tucking one arm possessively around Remus’ stomach and following his lover into the land of dreams.
“And we walked out once more beneath the stars.” Dante’s Inferno