Chanson d'Hiver

“Sirius. Sirius, are you even listening to me?”

Sirius closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, centering himself. He had not been listening. He was daydreaming about Remus instead of focusing on the dreadfully inane conversation that his mother and father were having. Things with Remus had been progressing quite well, and though he hadn’t kissed Remus—Moony—yet, he’d certainly imagined it. He smiled to himself at the thought of the nickname.

“Why are you smiling?” Walburga Black’s sharp voice interrupted his thoughts once again. “Perhaps you find it amusing to be disrespectful to your mother?”

Sirius tossed his hair defiantly. He was a bloody adult—why did he have to be chided by his mother? His eyes slid over to Regulus, who shook his head imperceptibly at Sirius.

“No,” Sirius mumbled.

Reggie exhaled in relief—he had, undoubtedly, been expecting Sirius to rebel.

“Do not mumble when you speak to me, Sirius Orion,” his mother snapped. “You are meant to be the heir to this family. How on earth are we to trust you to do that when you can’t even demonstrate the proper decorum expected of you?”

Sirius followed his mother’s gaze towards their father, who was sipping from his snifter and reading the newspaper. He seemed as though he couldn’t be bothered to do more than make eye contact with all of them before returning to the paper.

If it hadn’t been for Regulus, Sirius would have run away a long time ago. He felt a responsibility to his younger brother, and he dealt with the brunt of their mother’s abuse to protect Reggie. It was what he’d always done.

Regulus had, for reasons Sirius could not begin to fathom, longed for the approval of their mother. He was everything the Black heir should be: composed, elegant, educated, and aloof. Sirius, on the other hand, hated everything that his parents stood for with their opulence and arrogance. He’d be perfectly content to live a simple life and donate the bloody lot of it to charity, once he’d ensured that he and Reggie had what they needed. Sirius hadn’t said this to his mother and father, of course, but it was always on the tip of his tongue during moments like these.

He drew back his shoulders, lifting his chin with all of the hauteur he possessed.

“Apologies, Mother. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Sirius said smoothly, rising from his chair and making a swift exit.

He didn’t have bloody time for this. James and Remus were waiting for him—they had plans to try out the snowmobiles. Remus was incredibly hesitant, but Sirius had coerced him into riding on the back of his snowmobile. He had ulterior motives, of course. If Remus were riding along with him, he would have to hold onto him. They hadn’t so much as held hands yet, but during that concert, they’d brushed against one another a few times and Sirius had been thankful for the darkness hiding his reddening cheeks. At one point, Remus had leaned in to whisper to Sirius about heading to the loo, and even that had somehow set his loins on fire.

*****

When Sirius approached James and Remus, they were tossing snowballs at one another—and while James appeared to have landed a few, Remus’s aim was not fantastic. Sirius watched as James ducked yet another missile, laughing.

“C’mon Rem, you can do better than that!” James grinned.

Sirius seized the fact that neither of them had noticed his approach. He leaned down, scooping up the fluffy white powder and forming a perfect snowball. He lobbed it at James’s head and prayed it hit.

The moment it smacked the back of James’s mussed hair, his burnt-orange-parka-clad-shoulders lifted up to his ears and, beyond him, Remus’s face was one of pure delight. Sirius doubled over with laughter, only ceasing when a retaliatory snowball hit him in the shoulder.

“Oi!”

The three of them tossed snowballs at each other for several minutes until they were all increasingly out of breath with laughter and cold. This was exactly what Sirius needed to break him out of his Walburga-induced funk. The downside of this, though, was that the trio were now all uncomfortably sodden with snow.

“I don’t know that riding around on snowmobiles is going to be much fun like this,” James laughed, pulling the hem of his undershirt out to dry the lenses of his glasses.

“I suppose you’re right,” Sirius grumbled.

He was disappointed—he had been looking forward to experiencing that with Remus, who had never ridden one before. Remus, he couldn’t help but notice, looked a bit too keen at the turn of events. When he noticed Sirius looking, he arranged his features into an unconvincing frown.

“Oh no,” Remus said. “Bad luck!”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re absolutely devastated, Moony,” Sirius teased, gently nudging Remus with his elbow.

“I suppose we’d better head back then,” James said. “Get dried off and figure out what to do with the free evening.”

James looked pointedly at Sirius as he said this, doing that thing that had bonded them from the very beginning. Sirius loved that about James. It was a funny thing, having a friend who was so completely attuned to you that you could communicate with facial expressions. That was James and Sirius, as long as they’d known one another.

James seemed to be saying, Look at all of this free time you have now to spend with Remus… doing something he might actually enjoy!

Sirius widened his eyes—had he really been so obvious?

James gave him a look that clearly said yes.

Sirius raised a brow. What should we do?

James shrugged. You’re a hopeless romantic—you’ll think of something.

Sirius nodded.

Remus, for his part, watched the nonverbal exchange with mild incredulity.

“Do you two do that often?” he asked. “The whole talking-with-your-eyes thing?”

“Ah, you caught that, eh?” Sirius bit his lip.

“I haven’t got shit all idea what you were saying, but yeah, pretty obvious,” Remus said.

He looked so adorable—his curls were hanging in icy tendrils around his face like a sandy blonde halo. The pink of his cheeks and the tip of his nose emphasized the smattering of freckles placed there like his own constellation, and Sirius swooned internally.

James cleared his throat—a prompting.

“Moony, would you like to go on an evening adventure with me?” Sirius asked in a rush.

“Absolutely,” Remus said, smiling easily.

“That’s settled then,” James said. “We’ll warm up and then you two can collaborate on how you’ll spend the remainder of the evening.”

“What will you do?” Remus asked politely as they trudged through the snow.

He always seemed so polite and considerate. Sirius loved that about him—liked. He liked that about him.

“Eh, not sure yet mate,” James said, his long stride matching Remus’s. Sirius had to add an absurd little hop to keep up, like he was a puppy. “I’m sure I’ll find something to occupy my time.”

The three of them parted ways, with plans for Remus and Sirius to meet in front of the lodge’s overlarge fireplace in a few hours. Sirius reminded Remus to dress warmly, sincerely hoping that Remus had brought a backup coat so that he wouldn’t have to wear the same soaked one from that afternoon. He would never be able to fit into Sirius’s or Regulus’s, but perhaps James had brought a spare…

Sirius hurried through his toilette, disregarding Reg’s knock at the door to come to dinner. He had several ideas of what he’d like to do with Remus—perhaps he could take him skiing? It was always so exhilarating to rush down the mountains under a starry sky. He could teach Remus to snowboard—if he didn’t know how, that is. But ultimately, Sirius settled on the idea of taking the ski lift for a ride through the mountains and pines. It would be romantic and would give them a chance to just be together.

*****

Remus met Sirius at the decided upon time in front of the overly large fireplace. Sirius couldn’t help but smile when he saw Remus standing there, hands in the pockets of a pea coat he recognized as James’s.

“James loaned me a coat,” Remus said. “Mine is still soaked.”

Remus had a scarf looped around his neck, the ends tucked neatly into the front of the coat. He rubbed the back of his head, tousling his curls with what Sirius was beginning to recognize as a nervous habit. He’d cut the tips off the fingers of his gloves, and Sirius thought that Remus just looked devastatingly cool. There was something so comfortable and honest about him that drew Sirius into his rotation.

“I wondered,” Sirius said. “I’d offer you one, but…” he trailed off somewhat lamely.

Remus laughed. “That would be quite a sight!”

Sirius was feeling quite dapper, albeit impractical. He was wearing his long black dress coat, his scarf knotted smartly with the ends dangling down to the tops of his combat boots. He looped his arm through Remus’s and led him to the little stand where they ordered cocoa and pastries and walked along talking and enjoying themselves.

Remus was so easy to talk to—he had the sort of dry sarcasm and quick wit that Sirius possessed, so he was very appreciative of Remus’s brand of humor. They made one another laugh as they people watched and shared stories. They talked about music and books and movies, sharing little anecdotes. Sirius couldn’t remember ever feeling so at ease with someone—of not only wanting to know someone else, but wanting to be known.

Sirius learned that Remus had grown up in an orphanage—that he’d earned a scholarship to uni but had decided to major in philosophy.

“I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to actually choose something you liked,” he’d said ruefully.

Sirius’s heart ached at that.

“Of course you are, love,” Sirius said, squeezing Remus’s arm a little tighter. “It’s not you who’s got it wrong—it’s this whole wretched world. We were given this beautiful planet to live our one precious life and we decided to ruin it with things like skyscrapers and 40 hour work weeks and credit scores. It’s all utter bollocks.”

“You would say that,” Remus mumbled. Sirius stopped walking, pausing under the glow of the fairy lights at the irked tone.

Sirius knit his brows. “What do you mean, Remus?”

“I mean it’s easy for people who are, you know, well off to say that things like money and credit scores don’t matter,” Remus began. “For people like me, it does matter, because without a good one I’ll never be able to do a bloody thing.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Moony,” Sirius scoffed, resuming their walk, thinking that if he could, he’d ensure Remus was able to do whatever he wanted. “I’d give it all away if I could.”

“Would you?” Remus asked drily.

“Mm-hmm,” Sirius hummed. “I’m not a great heir apparent—though my dear mother has been threatening to disinherit me for ages anyway. I wish she’d go on and do it so I could be free of her.”

“Why don’t you just leave?” Remus asked simply.

Sirius felt his heart skip a beat. He’d thought about it for ages—his uncle had left him a bit of money, and he had the café with James. It’s not as though he needed to stay. He’d only done so for Reggie, to avoid leaving him to deal with their viper parents alone. They were adults now, though. It wouldn’t be so hard, really, to walk away.

“Maybe I will,” Sirius said.

The night was colder than Sirius had anticipated, and the wind swirled around them as they stood between buildings. Remus was looking down at Sirius with a peculiar expression on his face—one of hunger. Sirius felt warm despite the cold, a fluttering in his stomach that drew him closer to Remus. Remus, who was looking at him with blown out pupils and sleepy bedroom eyes. Sirius wanted to melt into him, found himself stepping in until he and Remus were much too close.

He was certain that he hadn’t misread the situation, that Remus’s eyes, nearly black with want, were drawing him near. Remus touched Sirius’s waist, and his hands seemed to sear through the wool of Sirius’s coat and scorch the skin beneath. Sirius let out a gasp, watching the puff of his breath linger in the air—a visible sign of his surprised pleasure.

Sirius brought his hands to rest against Remus’s chest, their bodies pressed flush against one another. There was no going back now—and Sirius couldn’t even if he tried.

Looking back, he would never be entirely sure who kissed who first, just that he leaned up as Remus leaned down and suddenly their lips were meeting in soft, sensuous exploration. They were hesitant at first—Remus tasted like summertime and chocolate, his mouth was cool and gentle as his lips slid between Sirius’s. Sirius let out another gasp at the charge running through him, opening his mouth to allow greater access. Remus growled slightly, winding his hands into Sirius’s hair and turning to press him to the wall.

This was everything he’d been hoping it would be. Kissing Remus felt like coming home—like whatever he’d been searching for all of this time had clicked into place, as if his heart was saying, “Oh, there you are—I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Remus pulled away, smiling a crooked smile that was so disarming that Sirius felt lightheaded.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you,” Remus said.

“You don’t say,” Sirius grinned. “It just so happens that I felt quite the same way.”

“Think this is what all those love songs talk about?” Remus asked.

Sirius could barely stop the smile from spreading even wider across his face. How was this even possible? How could he have gotten so lucky—that James just happened to hire this person who made everything feel as if it had been this way all along?

“C’mere,” Sirius said, taking Remus’s hand. “I’ve something I want to show you.”

*****

Moments later, Sirius and Remus were bundled up under a plaid blanket, riding a ski lift up the mountain. The stars sparkled above them like crystals woven into velvet, and the air smelled like snow and pine—one of Sirius’s favorite scents. He’d slipped a few euros to the attendant to ensure that they had some privacy (and Remus had shaken his head at this and smiled, so Sirius assumed he was forgiven for using his money to their advantage).

“I don’t love heights,” Remus admitted once they’d been riding along in silence.

Sirius thought that they had been appreciating the view, but then chided himself when he noticed Remus’s death grip on the bar in front of them. He had been enjoying the view and the company, selfishly caught up in his own feelings and not checking in with Remus. He was horrorstricken.

“Moony! I am so sorry,” Sirius said. “I just assumed—”

“—and I didn’t correct you,” Remus said firmly. “I figured I may as well tell you sooner rather than later, but I honestly wanted to be with you so badly I’d probably have done anything you suggested.”

Sirius barked out a laugh.

“That makes two of us. Do you even like skiing?”

“Not really. I’d rather read in the resort, enjoy the fire, that sort of thing—bit like your brother, actually.”

“Yeah, Reg isn’t much into being cold,” Sirius said.

“Nor am I.”

“Good thing we’re up here in a bloody ski lift in the middle of winter.”

They laughed for a while at that, until Sirius felt tears streaming from his eyes and nearly freezing onto his cheeks. Remus seemed to have relaxed, weaving his fingers through Sirius’s. Sirius rested his head on Remus’s shoulder and Remus laid his head atop Sirius’s. The effect was quite cozy.

“I’m happy you asked me out tonight,” Remus said. “I really enjoy spending time with you.”

“So do I,” Sirius said, looking ahead at the trees rather than at Remus. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“That’s how I feel as well,” Remus said, sighing contentedly. “Sort of feels like this is it, you know?”

“I really do,” Sirius breathed. He couldn’t explain it, but the absolute rightness of this moment settled into his bones. He could suddenly picture, with perfect clarity, a future for the two of them—Sunday mornings in flannel pajama pants, tea and newspaper crosswords and toast with jam, holidays and evenings in and maybe a pet dog or two, a little house in the pines…

They looked up at the stars, listening to the wind whistling a lonely song through the ancient pines, and Sirius pointed out some of his favorite constellations.

“I love how much you can see the stars here,” Sirius said.

“Me too,” Remus said, bobbing his head once. “I’ve always lived in the city and never really thought much about being anywhere else, but then you see this… It’s unbelievable.”

“My brother and I could find our stars in the sky before we could speak complete sentences,” Sirius said. “It’s always been a part of who I am. I like living in the city, but I think eventually I’d want to live somewhere that I could just look up like this and see the stars.”

“I’d like that too,” Remus said, and Sirius could hear the smile in his voice. He leaned up and kissed Remus softly on his jaw, feeling the chill of his skin and nuzzling closer.

“It’s crazy how many stars there are,” Remus continued. “All of these stars, all of these planets, all of these galaxies—who’s to say there isn’t life elsewhere? Or another version of you, or me, or James?”

“I’d like to think that of all the galaxies out there, we’d be together in every one.” This was heady stuff for so early on, Sirius knew, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He looked up at Remus through his eyelashes and Remus was looking at him tenderly.

“I hope so.”

At that moment, the lift, which had been trekking slowly along its course, shuddered to a stop, leaving them high above the mountain top under a blanket of stars and snow.