Carefully ensconced in a novel, Remus meted out his allotment of gazes
over the top of his reading glasses. Sirius sat, feet pulled up as close
to his body as possible. The tension tethering him to his human form was
strong enough that Remus convinced himself he could smell it, pungent
and fearful. The paper of the Daily Prophet
crinkled in Sirius' bony
fingers as he mulled over the crossword.
Remus tugged his focus back to the pages of his book, though his
attentions lagged behind to their reunion, three days prior: Sirius
straddling his lap; Remus wanting to claim - repossess - the lips and
mouth that had been his. Somehow it was all too soon. Instead Remus had
tenderly kissed the rest; papery eyelids closed in disbelief; stark
cheekbones and unkempt caterpillar eyebrows. He had suckled on an
unscarred earlobe, wishing he could gnaw at the moan that escaped
Remus turned the page, fostering the ruse as fully as he could. Another
surreptitious glance to Sirius, another link in the chain from past to
present. Remus loved him, had shouted such in his mind; he could thrive
on air alone as long as his packmate shared it.
Sirius. Beloved, damaged, transfigured Sirius, was a stranger.
Oblivious, he inked another word in the puzzle as Remus' threnody
drifted gently in and out with each breath.
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