Twenty: For Tea and Chocolate

[tartancravat.livejournal.com]

Title: For Tea and Chocolate
Rating: PG
Prompt: # 20 at barefootboys
Word Count: 507
Summary: It’s the first time he’s really felt like death is possible.

August 20^th, 1978

That night, Sirius comes so close to dying he can feel a cold breath at his heels. He lies in the rubble of the warehouse, something heavy across his left leg, feeling blood moving sluggishly from the cuts at his shoulder and his head, and stares at the night sky. The moon is up there, only just beginning to wane, and Sirius smiles at it before he slips out of consciousness.

Next he knows, there’s a warm breath on his face, and something cool and fresh healing his cuts. He sucks in breath and makes a noise like an injured puppy as the heavy thing (stone? metal pipe? that table that was in the corner?) is levitated off his leg and moved away. Sirius. Padfoot. He passes out again.

Eyes open. His head is tucked under Moony’s chin, nose pressed into his collarbone. Remus has no shirt on; his arms are wrapped around Sirius to keep him warm. The blankets have slipped down to their waists. Remus’ chest rises and falls with the heavy breaths of sleep. Sirius blinks and sighs.

Somewhere about him is the thing for which he left his parents’ house. The thing for which he became an Animagus. The thing that explains why he thinks this poky little flat that’s always either too warm or too cold is one of the best places in the world. Sirius lives with abandon. He is never happy unless he is free to choose his freedoms—there are some things he never wants to be free of, and he wants to choose what they are.

It’s the first time he’s really felt like death is possible. Like he might not survive, Remus might not survive, James and Peter and Lily might not survive. Sirius does not want to die, but he knows there are things—and people—that are worth dying for.

“What would you die for, Moony?” Sirius mumbles into Remus’ chest, so close he can feel his heartbeat. “I bet you’d die for all the tea in China, you like tea. Or chocolate. A lifetime supply of chocolate. Only that’s a bit of a paradox, huh, because if you die a lifetime supply doesn’t do you much good.” He can tell his cuts are fully healed, and his leg no longer hurts, though it’s a bit stiff, and tangled in the blankets. He can’t imagine moving, is much too comfortable. These are serious (Sirius, seriously) questions he’s asking, but he prattles on anyway like he doesn’t really want to know the answer. Remus is asleep anyway.

“When you wake up I bet you’re going to scold me for getting in trouble like that. You are, aren’t you? I’m sorry, anyway, no one actually likes getting nearly blown up. And I was doing it for you, so you’d better be grateful. I always do it for you.” Sirius is growing less and less coherent, closer and closer to sleep. He shuts his eyes, and is gone into dreams.

Remus smiles. “I know, Sirius."

Day Twenty-One