The Kitchens

It appeared to be all consuming, the act of kissing someone. Sirius was slightly surprised by this. He’d kissed loads of girls before, in fact he’d done quite a bit more than simply kiss them. But he questioned it now… had he kissed them? He didn’t think so, not really.

It had never been like this before.

It had never been that each and ever act or thought his body and mind performed somehow stemmed back to the kiss, to Remus. It hadn’t even been particularly long. It had been rushed, lost in the heat of the moment. Wonderful, but nothing monumental as far as kissing goes. Sirius had led him to bed afterwards and forced himself to walk away. He’d apologized afterwards and taken it back. As far as kissing goes, it honestly should be considered rather awful. But it wasn’t.

Sirius felt slightly sick with nerves, standing there surrounded by the whirling action of of the First Bloom Ball preparations. Stray petals scattered themselves on the floors of the long hallways, having fallen off of the millions of bouquets that were being transported into every part of the castle imaginable. Noble and servant girls alike stood around in groups, chattering and working excitedly, hoping desperately that they would receive a bloom from whichever boy it was they dreamt about. It was rumored that the one who gave you the bloom was the one who remained yours forever. Sirius allowed himself a small smile at this. The idea had never appealed to him until now. Then again, the idea had never applied to him either. It still didn’t but he allowed the smile all the same.

Sirius felt the eyes of many on him as he strode about the room. He knew it was because of the party, but he couldn’t help but notice the eyes lingering on his head more than his face, or, more specifically, his crown. He didn’t make a habit of wearing it about but it was one of those days that his mother had insisted. She did that occasionally. He liked it fine and all. It sat comfortably, if not a bit heavily, but he could definitely do without the attention—something he knew his mother valued above all else. He only made the mistake of making eye contact twice before the barely repressed squeals that followed taught him to keep his eyes pleasantly aloof from any one person, discreetly searching for the dark mass of hair that was James. He finally spotted it peaking out from behind a particularly large bouquet. He pulled on his jacket some, straightening it, before all but speed walking over to him, waiting by the double doorway then falling into step with his stride.

“James.”

James’ face appeared between two pink peonies, “S-“ His face straightened, eyes glancing around, “Your Royal Highne-“

“My mum isn’t here. Can you come?”

James heaved out a sigh as he let the vase carefully down on the table, dusting various shades of what looked like pollen from his shirt. Sirius distastefully glanced only briefly at the yellow stains it left behind.

James raised an eyebrow, “I’m thinking you’re forgetting that status of our relationship.”

Sirius blinked, “What?”

James raised both eyebrows now, offering a smile, “Sirius, it isn’t a matter of if I can come. If you want me somewhere, I go.”

Sirius knew this wasn’t meant as a blow. James was probably joking, relieved that he was getting out of work. But it was true. James couldn’t refuse. Sirius thought briefly back to the way Remus had kicked him out that night of the chocolate cake. The heat that was becoming familiar to him very quickly filled his chest at the memory and he motioned his head for James to follow him. He was doing this. He could do this. This was James.

Sirius walked until they were nearly half way across the castle, in the predictably quiet West parlor. He motioned for James to shut the door.

“What’s this about? I can’t be gone for too long. My mum would have my head.”

Sirius could have laughed at his particular choice of words if he hadn’t been so bloody nervous.

“Well, I’m certainly about to tell you something that could cost me mine.”

James froze half way between standing and sitting on the couch. He rose again, “Come again?”

Sirius sighed and pushed on his shoulders until he plopped down on the cushions, then sat on the lean wooden table across from him. He took a shaky breath, lacing his fingers together across his knees. He went to open his mouth, but suddenly found that his jaw wouldn’t cooperate.

James spluttered, “Mate, you can’t lead with a phrase like that then sit on it.” He waited a moment more then shoved Sirius’ shoulder, “Come on.”

“I kissed someone.”

James blinked, mouth falling open in surprise. Sirius suddenly wished there was a fire crackling, or a rainstorm outside, anything to fill the silence.

“Oh.” James shook his head a little then laughed, “Well, what’s so bad about that? Your mum doesn’t approve of her?”

Sirius looked at him.

The realization spread quickly over James face and he nodded again, “Oh… Oh. Does- Does she know?”

“No one knows.” Sirius said quickly, “You know, I know, and- and…she knows.” Sirius swallowed.

Sirius felt like he was swallowing over his heart. He surprised himself with just how desperate he was to shout that it wasn’t a she, and that it hadn’t felt like just a kiss.

James went to speak again, but Sirius held up his hand, suddenly glad he had some power of James. He didn’t know how many questions he could lie his way through.

“Just listen, alright?” He sat back, letting his hand rest nervously against his thigh once more, “I need you to do something.”

~

Remus had spent the better part of the minutes between three and four in the morning running his hands over the soft fur of Sirius’ slippers over and over. By the time he had to get ready, he almost felt guilty stashing them away in his tiny moldy trunk at the base of his bed, underneath a pile of old shirts. The flower too, that had somehow remained tucked into his hair, got flattened between the pages of an old book he found in there. Maybe it was more sadness than guilt. Things so wonderful shouldn’t even been associated with such items, much less wedged between them.

He missed the feeling of the soft leather against his heels. He swallowed. He missed the feeling of Sirius’ hands on his skin. His mouth…

There was a hiss from in front of him and he jolted backwards at the steam issuing from the nearly over boiling pot of tomato soup.

“Shit.” He crouched, using the long iron tongs to push the heavy pan to the side, away from the flames, causing the bubbling to subside.

“Since when are you such a day dreamer?”

Remus turned his head to Mrs. Potter who was giving him a sly smile over her steadily growing mound of peeled potatoes. He offered her a slightly sheepish, slightly tight one of his own, “No. I mean- yes. I mean, sorry. I don’t know where I was.”

Mrs. Potter laughed, “Don’t apologize for dreaming, Remus. If anything apologize for the swearing.” Her eyes were kind and reflected the firelight warmly, “But never for the dreaming.”

Remus had to turn his head away. He didn’t want her to see his face fall, his grin succumb to uneasiness. He let the soup swing back into place and eased the fire down to a bluish flicker, then stood and dusted his hands on his apron.

He hesitated a moment, hands pressed to his thighs, before turning around slowly on his heel, “Um. While we’re… I… Just, about dreaming…”

Mrs. Potter’s knife flew on the potatoes and she didn’t look up, but hummed in a way that let him know he had her complete attention. Remus was glad for the lack of eye contact.

“If you…” He paused, desperately trying to think of his words carefully and quickly at the same time, “If you… have something. A dream. Something good, but you know…” he walked forward, pressing his hands to the cool counter top, “you know it isn’t going to last, this dream. This something good…” Mrs. Potter finally looked up at him, fingers stilling, and Remus swallowed before finishing, “do you think it’s worth it? Dreaming it up at all?”

Mrs. Potter looked at him for a moment thoughtfully, then went right back to peeling, “Hm.” She took a breath, “There’s a tale of two brothers. They’re walking in the forest and they come across a stone.” Remus looked at her quizzically but she pressed on, “On the stone are instructions on how to live ten years of pure bliss and happiness, full of riches and power. One brother follows them. He climbs a mountain, he wrestles a bear, he crosses a stream until he comes to a house that holds an enchantress that gives him what he came for. The brother becomes king of a large village with all the money and happiness one could want.” She hands Remus a few potatoes of his own and a knife then continues, “It lasts for ten years, just as the stone said. After his ten years of bliss, his kingdom falls, the woman he loves leaves him, his people turn against him. He is left powerless, loveless, and friendless. He has nothing to do but turn to the only person who knew him before he became what he was.”

“His brother.” Remus supplied, peeling slowly, more intent on listening.

Mrs. Potter nodded slightly in his direction, the pile beside her growing as she spoke, words rich and purposeful, “Exactly. Now, his brother had refused to take the instructions. He claimed that he was happy right then, with the life he was living. He didn’t know what would happen after ten years, so why risk it? He had a modest home, a good wife, had enough money to put basic food on his table. Why take the risk?”

“Well, he’d be happy for a time, at least. Truly happy.” Remus twirled his knife thoughtfully against the wooden counter, the point creating a small indent in the wood, “Why would he settle for something that he was just… content with when he could have something fantastic like his brother did, for even a little while…”

Remus trailed off, suddenly realizing what he was saying. Mrs. Potter was looking somewhat knowingly at him, almost too knowingly for Remus’ comfort.

“Well, I do believe you’ve just answered your own question, love.”

Remus felt his cheeks flush and he smiled, flicking a potato skin in her direction and making her laugh, eyes crinkling. They worked in silence after that, the soft scraping being the only sound that filled the room.

Remus supposed he had answered his own question. He had something good right now. Something better than anything he’d ever had in his life. He had someone. Or at least he was beginning too. Would he really be able to give that up, to give Sirius up, out of, what, fear? Fear of the future? It was there. It was definitely a real fear. There was no hope for them. They had kissed, Sirius had smiled, Sirius had apologized, Sirius had taken it back, Sirius had left. That in itself said it, right there: They both knew, if this began, how it would end. Remus closed his eyes briefly. If it hadn’t been for the remembered feeling of Sirius’ hands on his skin, Sirius’ lips on his own, he would have been decided right there. End it. Sooner rather than later. But logic was consumed by emotion, planning consumed by memories.

Remus’ voice sounded louder when he spoke again, hands slowing, “He’d have the memories, at least.” Remus swallowed, “When it was all over, I mean.” He felt Mrs. Potter’s eyes on him and looked up too, “That’s worth something, isn’t it? He’d remember the happiness. That’s worth the risk?”

She thought for a moment, her own hands slowing as well, knife gliding smoothly, “Memories are tricky, I think. Remembering them is okay, good even. They can take us back to that time, that place. We can feel what we felt again, or almost what we felt. But living in them… it gets dangerous. I suppose it depends on the person, and how valuable they think the memories will be to them. If they would value the memories over their own present happiness.” She looked at him again, eyes slightly more serious but not alarmingly so, “That past can be a tempting thing, Remus.”

And Remus probably knew then. He could feel a ghost of what unbearable weight could eventually settle on his heart if he let this happen, if he let this happen until it…couldn’t anymore. Until it stopped. And it would stop. But he isn’t in the past yet. He’s in the present. And aren’t people always saying to ‘live in the now’?

What a dangerous expression that is, and perhaps the most tempting thing of all.

~

The already hot air rose about ten degrees when Sirius swung open the door to the kitchens. He probably should have noticed the pies cooling by the window first, or the sharp smell of spices and butter in the air, or the obscenely large pile of white potatoes on the island. But he zeroed in on Remus almost instantaneously, and for a moment all he could feel was him, was last night. His frostbitten skin that turned to warm cheeks and soft kisses and tangled hair-

“Oh my. Your Royal Highness.”

Sirius blinked away from the wide amber eyes and to Mrs. Potter standing next to him. And yes, he definitely should have noticed that.

He tried to shake off his surprise and gave his best yes-I-am-your-charming-prince smile, only to wince a little at remembering how that smile made Remus frown. His expression most likely turned out rather odd.

“I- hello.”

Mrs. Potter smiled kindly at him and bowed her head respectfully. Sirius glanced at Remus, whose eyes were still fixed on him, hoping desperately he wouldn’t do the same, but knowing he had too. It felt odd, wrong, to see Remus acting like a subject in front of him. Sirius straightened uncomfortably as Remus bowed too, a male’s bow, lower and one had behind his back. Sirius wanted to grip his shoulders and stop him, maybe with a kiss if he was lucky-

“My prince, what might we help you with this evening?” When Sirius just stood there after a moment, Mrs. Potter glanced at Remus, confused, “Or… Or have you come on behalf of the Queen, perhaps?”

“No.” Sirius said quickly, snapping back into himself, what he was brought up to be, “No, nothing of the sort. I’m hear on purely…” he glanced at Remus once more, “physical business.” He had to fight off the smirk at Remus’ flushed cheeks, and looked back to Mrs. Potter, “I require you to fetch Nurse Pomfrey, if you would. Quickly please. I fear my cheek is rather infected.”

Mrs. Potter squinted slightly, obviously worrying over the gash on Sirius’ upper cheek, before nodding, bowing again, and rushing out of the room.

Sirius wasted no time.

It had it perks, being tall, and he closed the distance between him and Remus in just four strides, pressing his hands to Remus’ cheeks at the same time as Remus’ went to his hair. And if Sirius had thought the last kiss had been good, he felt nearly knocked off balance by this one. Remus fingers wound tightly into his hair, pulling and knocking the crown slightly askew as he kissed him, breath hot and needing, filling Sirius to the brim with relief and he doesn’t regret this, he wants this as much as you do.

“Jesus, the one time you choose not to be alone.” Sirius sighs into his mouth, thumbs stroking over Remus’ cheeks, imagining he can feel each freckle there and keep them.

“The one time you choose to wear this bloody thing.”

Sirius laughs. He noses gently along Remus’ cheek, relishing in how fucking natural it feels, like he’d been doing it for months and years and eternity.

Remus laughs too, “Honestly, the first time I get to kiss you without being nervous and you restrict me with this.”

“Excuse you, you had James’ mum next to you. Who’s restricting whom?”

Remus smiles, leaning into the place where Sirius presses a kiss to his cheek, and straightens the crown atop Sirius’ head before letting his hands fall to his neck, “Hm. I suppose you’re right.”

Sirius just lets their foreheads rests together, already dreading having to pull away, “Did you just say you were nervous to kiss me?”

He practically feels Remus roll his eyes, “We were both nervous.”

“I wasn’t nervous.”

Sirius feels a little pinch on his shoulder, “Yes, you were.”

He smiles, “Yeah, I was.”

Remus laughs again then lets out a long breath, nudging their faces closer together. They’re silent for a few moments, just enjoying the other being there.

Sirius feels reluctant to break the quiet. It feels like they’re in their own little bubble, protected from whatever this world would throw at them. But he has to ask before Mrs. Potter comes back with Pomfrey.

“Will you meet me? Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Remus questions, “Tonight’s the ball.”

“Tonight.” Sirius slides his hands from Remus’ cheeks, to his waist, feeling the well worn linen beneath his fingertips, “West parlor. Where we met.”

Remus smiled at the memory, “What a pompous little prick you were.”

Sirius laughed, hands tightening around Remus’ shirt and pulling their chests together. He didn’t miss the small gasp Remus let out, “I’m still a pompous little prick. Just not around you.” He tilted his head to the side, lips hovering over Remus’, “And I’m not so sure about little.”

Remus hummed, seeming more intent on closing the distance between their mouths than actually answering.

The sound of footsteps made them both jump terribly, but Sirius pulled Remus back against him, just for a moment, savoring, needing, “Say you’ll come.” He whispered.

Remus pressed his palms once against Sirius’ cheeks, lips quick to steal one more kiss, “Of course I’ll come.”

They stepped apart, Sirius moving to the other side of the table. Mrs. Potter entered, alone.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her, “And Pomfrey?”

Mrs. Potter looked absolutely bewildered to see him still standing in the kitchen. She glanced at Remus who had turned away, pretending to tend to the fire. Sirius longed to glance too, maybe get a quick view of-

“You- Your Highness, I didn’t expect you to be here. I would have thought you would return to your chambers, I’ve sent Pomfrey there. My greatest apologies-“

Sirius rolled his eyes a little and then, with the way her face fell and mouth snapped shut, he wished he hadn’t. He was suddenly desperately glad Remus wasn’t looking.

The truth was that Remus was correct. He was a pompous prick. It seemed to go along with his inheritance. But he didn’t want to be. He had to let Remus know he was trying, he was changing.

“No matter.” He supplied, “I will seek her there.” He almost turned, then stopped himself. He had to try, “The- The food smells wonderful, by the way.” He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably, then dipped his head, just slightly, “Thank you, Mrs. Potter.”

He turned on his heel and left, leaving a wide eyed Mrs. Potter in his wake.

Mrs. Potter turned to Remus, who was still desperately stoking the fire.

“Well. That- That was rather kind of him, wasn’t it?”

Remus kept himself turned away, hiding the grin that felt like it was nearly splitting his cheeks in two.

“It was. Maybe he’s having a good day.”