It starts with photos from Hogwarts - Sirius's arm slung over Remus's shoulder, his lips brushing his ear, his hair tickling the curves of his neck. There's letters from summers apart - the kind where i miss you and i wish you were here were hidden between rambles of over-the-top humor and accounts of intricate pranks on James' neighbors. Short notes sent during classes, some dirty enough that they still made Remus blush. There's a scarf that Sirius gave him for their first Christmas together, the one Remus is sure he stole from a bothersome fourth year because he couldn't stand to spend his parents money. Other things, trinkets that hold their own value - tiny pensives full of memories.
All of these are covered with newspaper clippings about the arrest. Piles of papers detailing the life of Sirius Black. Discussing his decent into madness. Wondering with both disgust and awe at how deeply undercover he managed to get under the nose of Albus Dumbledore. The headlines all read the same to Remus - You Are a Fool. He uses them as blankets in his box.
The world stops talking about Sirius soon enough. The box stops filling up. Remus finds work here and there. Goes through the motions. The box moves from apartment to apartment. Stays under beds and in the backs of closets. Sometimes when Remus has a bad day and a little too much to drink, it sees the light of day. Those days he thinks of burning it. He's never drunk enough to actually go through with it.
Word breaks of the escape and Remus takes the box with him to Hogwarts. There, Harry Potter trusts him with his life. Remus thinks, you shouldn't. your parents made this same mistake because he knows. Knows there is a box that tells two stories and after 13 years, Remus still can't decide which one he likes best.
---
This is a memory too.
There's a box.
There's always a box, Sirius would say, bottle half way to his lips and a smile curling around it. He'd mumbled cliche against the top. And Remus wouldn't know whether to be offended or amused. Sirius would keep him from thinking too long on the matter, curl his hands into the lapels of his coat and tell him to stop thinking so much. Press a kiss to his forehead and whisper I love you like it meant too much and not enough.
remus/sirius, this started long before it had meaning, pg
It starts with photos from Hogwarts - Sirius's arm slung over Remus's shoulder, his lips brushing his ear, his hair tickling the curves of his neck. There's letters from summers apart - the kind where i miss you and i wish you were here were hidden between rambles of over-the-top humor and accounts of intricate pranks on James' neighbors. Short notes sent during classes, some dirty enough that they still made Remus blush. There's a scarf that Sirius gave him for their first Christmas together, the one Remus is sure he stole from a bothersome fourth year because he couldn't stand to spend his parents money. Other things, trinkets that hold their own value - tiny pensives full of memories.
All of these are covered with newspaper clippings about the arrest. Piles of papers detailing the life of Sirius Black. Discussing his decent into madness. Wondering with both disgust and awe at how deeply undercover he managed to get under the nose of Albus Dumbledore. The headlines all read the same to Remus - You Are a Fool. He uses them as blankets in his box.
The world stops talking about Sirius soon enough. The box stops filling up. Remus finds work here and there. Goes through the motions. The box moves from apartment to apartment. Stays under beds and in the backs of closets. Sometimes when Remus has a bad day and a little too much to drink, it sees the light of day. Those days he thinks of burning it. He's never drunk enough to actually go through with it.
Word breaks of the escape and Remus takes the box with him to Hogwarts. There, Harry Potter trusts him with his life. Remus thinks, you shouldn't. your parents made this same mistake because he knows. Knows there is a box that tells two stories and after 13 years, Remus still can't decide which one he likes best.
---
This is a memory too.
There's a box.
There's always a box, Sirius would say, bottle half way to his lips and a smile curling around it. He'd mumbled cliche against the top. And Remus wouldn't know whether to be offended or amused. Sirius would keep him from thinking too long on the matter, curl his hands into the lapels of his coat and tell him to stop thinking so much. Press a kiss to his forehead and whisper I love you like it meant too much and not enough.
Remus knows this feeling all too well now.