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One More Secret for the Snow

Characters: MWPP & Lily
Ships: RL/SB (LE/JP)
Notes: Written as an xmas gift, part of [info]puppy_surprise, back in December 2004. Previously unavailable to the public. Thanks to my beta, Carmen Elle.

december the eighteen, 1977 - platform 9-3/4, king's cross station.

The stiff December wind caught Remus around the face as he stepped off the train, and he pulled his collar higher and closer around his jaw. The wind was full of snow that stung to his cheeks. He cast around for his parents on the busy platform; they were always late in that retched car. He sighted Sirius’ black hair and his sexy leather jacket ahead; Remus dragged his trunk forward and touched Sirius’ shoulder lightly.

Sirius didn’t look at him, and there was a trace of a pout on his lips. ‘Don’t like winter,’ he commented, shoulders hunched and hands deep in his trouser pockets. ‘What’s the point of cold and dark?’

They both turned at the sound of Lily’s distinctive laughter behind them; she was exiting the train, tailed by James. James controlled both his and Lily’s trunks with his wand. He nodded to Sirius, then to Remus. ‘Just going to help Lil’ find her folks,’ he said.

Sirius watched James as the boy followed his girlfriend through the crowd. ‘It’s always Evans these days,’ he said to Remus.

‘Well,’ said Remus, voice low, ‘it’s not so bad, for us, you know.’

Sirius grinned a bit, though his pout was not entirely gone. ‘No, I suppose it’s all right.’ He looked for a moment as if he meant to say more, but just then Peter separated himself from the masses. He punched Sirius lightly on the arm. ‘Still giving me a ride, Pads?’ Peter asked pleadingly.

‘Yeah,’ Sirius confirmed offhandedly.

Peter smiled in relief. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back in a flash. Forgot my trunk on the train.’ He disappeared into the crowd again, heads shorter than his fellow students.

Remus ran his tongue over his teeth repeatedly, hoping to warm them.
‘Merlin, I’m frozen here,’ said Sirius. He moved closer, so that their shoulders touched for a moment; they moved apart quickly, self-conscious.

Remus marvelled at how much heat Sirius could radiate while claiming to be frozen. ‘You can go, if you want; you know that you aren’t obligated to wait.’

‘No reason to be so polite with me, Remus,’ Sirius rebuked, ‘I know you want me to wait. Besides, this way you get more time to change your mind and come to my flat for Christmas.’

‘I can’t, Sirius, my grandparents are coming all the way from France.’
Sirius scowled, searching for words. ‘It’s full moon this Christmas. Same as last year; I checked the charts,’ he said flatly.

‘I know, Sirius!’ Remus snapped back. ‘I know that very well without checking any chart.’

‘I just –’ Sirius stopped, as if he was trying to sort out what he had done to warrant such a response. ‘It’s not fair to you is all, Remus. It’s not fair you have to tell them you’re ill and spend the night after Christmas cutting yourself up. What will they say in the morning?’

‘I’m sure it won’t be that bad.’ That wasn’t true at all. Remus knew that his parents were aware of the phases of the moon, that they had at least checked the charts. Remus looked up into the sky disconsolately. It was going to be that bad.

A small plane was flying back and forth, barely visible through the snow, a banner streaking behind it. He struggled to read what it said; the message read ‘Happy Christmas Tracey’. Remus wondered briefly what that was all about, but he couldn’t look up for long without his face growing too cold, so he retreated into his collar again. Slowly he realized that Sirius was watching him, and turned. Sirius looked so young, sometimes, but his deep grey eyes regarded Remus knowingly, as if he could sense every nuance of Remus’ quiet contemplation.

‘I’ve got something for you,’ Sirius said. He hesitated, his resolve faltering for an instant – though not for long, he was Sirius Black after all – and then he slid his left hand from its pocket. He held out a folded piece of parchment to Remus

Remus took the parchment slowly, making a point of brushing Sirius’ fingers with his own as he did so. ‘What is it?’ he asked, aware of how close the two of them were, huddled around this folded parchment.

‘It’s a poem,’ Sirius told Remus’ scarf.
Remus began to unfold it, but Sirius put out a hand to stop him.
‘Read it later though,’ he said

‘You write poetry, Padfoot? You never mentioned.’ Remus’ voice was devoid of mockery; he sensed that Sirius would be hurt if he teased. Remus looked up and, as he saw that James coming back through the somewhat thinner crowd, stuffed the poem into his pocket.

‘Well, yeah, but you better not tell Wormtail or Prongs, or I’ll be forced to lie and it’s me they’ll believe,’ Sirius muttered, abashed.
Remus chuckled.

‘What’s going on, you two? Can’t keep a secret from me for long, you know. What are you hiding?’ James had returned, with only one trunk in tow and a mouth the colour of Lily’s lipstick.

Neither Remus nor Sirius came up with any story to cover for their secretiveness, but James pressed no further. Perhaps he knows, Remus thought to himself, and he’s waiting until we’re ready to tell. That sounds like good old Prongs. Remus tasted metal in the back of his throat. James at least suspected that something was up; Peter was probably on their track too. Part of him wanted them to know, and he and Sirius would tell them soon, no doubt. It was the fact that they sensed something was up that meant others might sense something too.

‘Well then, chaps,’ James said at last, ‘I must be off. Apparating, you know. Happy holidays, say bye to Wormtail for me.’ This was the way he spoke sometimes, as if he required no answer at all. He disappeared without waiting for a response: pop.

Both boys stared at where James had been for a moment.

‘I can apparate too, you know,’ said Sirius, defensively – and Remus knew that he was lying; Sirius was old enough to apparate, but he hadn’t acquired a licence yet – ‘It’s just that I just like my baby so much better.’

He meant his motorcycle. Remus ached to climb onto that motorcycle behind Sirius, wrap his arms around his sturdy torso, and disappear. Forget awkward social occasions with grandparents who didn’t know the company he preferred or what the full moon meant to him.

‘I’m back!’ It was Peter, dragging his trunk across the platform. ‘What are you waiting here for, Remus?’ he asked.

‘Parents are late,’ he said.

‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I mean, because, there isn’t room on the motorcycle for three, right?’

‘Actually, there is,’ contradicted Sirius.

They stood in relative silence after that, until Remus’ parents arrived a short time later. Remus and Sirius looked at each other for a moment, exchanging goodbye kisses between their eyes, and Peter clapped Remus on the shoulder.

‘Have a good holiday, Moony.’

‘Thanks Wormtail, you too. Sirius, are you sure you two won’t be too cold riding the motorcycle?’

‘Nah, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you soon, Remus; happy Christmas.’

In the back seat of the car, didn’t dare to look at the poem lest his parents ask what it was. He held it in his pocket, though, confident that he was the only person in the world who knew the sweetness that was Sirius Black.


christmas poem for Remus

Moony, if this wasn’t all such a desperate secret
I’d tell – no, never mind
it is the grandest secret I’ve ever kept
and I’m in love with keeping it
(though we should probably tell Prongs and Wormtail soon,
it’s their right to know, eventually. When you say go.)

I like, with you, how even when the sky is cloudy the light gets through.
and Moony, don’t worry about when I’m not there
because even when we’re apart
somehow I’ll have my arms around you

happy christmas,
love Padfoot


Aolani Spylaris

abt. here

Harry Potter fanfiction is what I do here, but occassionally I might do something visual or multimedia.

If you believe you know my RL identity, please be discreet. I explore some sensitive issues here, and only your kindness and my anonymity makes that honesty possible.