You Are Very Poetic

You Are Very Poetic

On a cold winter's day, after Christmas has, for another year, come and gone, Sirius Black sat alone in the kitchen of his childhood home, Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry, Hermione and the Weasley's were upstairs, decontaminating the old house. This was something he himself should be doing, but he had decided to get drunk instead.

He was feeling very lonely. At the last Order meeting, Remus had said he would visit today, but he hadn't said when he would actually turn up.

Knowing Moony, he probably won't turn up until dinner, eat and then leave. He has been very distant lately. And I know his is getting thinner, I am not imagining it. Maybe he thinks I'm just a ticket to a free meal. An excuse. That's not fair. I know he is a very proud man and would never admit when he needs help. "I don't need your charity, Sirius. And I don't want your pity either." My poor Moony. He's gonna die but he is too proud to admit that he's struggling. Not the first time he's done it either.

"Sirius?"

He looked up to see his godson standing in to doorway. He smiled.

"Hello Harry," he said warmly. "You lot done for the day?"

"No. And you should be helping us, not sitting here getting pissed," he laughed, eyeing the bottle of firewhiskey that sat on the table. "It's a bit early isn't?"

Sirius looked at the clock on the wall. Quarter to Twelve. Nearly lunch time. Maybe he's hungry. I'll ask him.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, that's why I came down."

They fell into a comfortable silence as he started making a sandwich. He sat down next to Sirius who smiled.

Look how much he has grown! Oh, Prongs, you'd be so proud. He's a good young man, your son.

Harry finished his sandwich in record time and looked at Sirius. And Sirius looked back.

God he looks just like James. Except his eyes. Lily's eyes on James' face. It's so bizarre!

"You're a very poetic man, you are," Harry said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Well your life has been."

"How am I poetic? I am an alcoholic, manically depressed man who hasn't had sex since 1991."

"Um... yes, but... you're also a chained man. And you have been, ever since you were born."

"No I haven't," Sirius said, bemused.

"You have. For the first sixteen years of your live, you lived in the cold and cruel clutches of your unforgiving mother, only to break free the summer before your sixth year. And you were free. You were happy. Everything was going well for you, until you were betrayed, by a man you called friend. And you become chained again. This time literally. You were literally chained to the walls of Azkaban. You worst memories, a feast, for the cold-hearted and merciless Dementors. Imprisoned inside your own mind. And you broke free once more. You did whatever you could to survive simply because you loved; you had people you loved, people you knew you had to protect because the truth, the truth was unknown. And it would have hurt the ones you love in so many ways. And it did.

"A year later, a ruthless dictator rose again. The simple, un-spoken threat of what this man could do, had forced you into hiding. And now you are, once again, chained."

"Fucking hell. You're a poet aren't you?"

"No, but I like poetry. I like tales that tell the reader of pain, anguish and despair. Of tormented souls and their salvation. Stuff like that." He stood. "Well, I'd better get back to cleaning your house," he said, smiling. "See you later."

"Bye, Harry."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius had thought about what Harry had said all afternoon. After getting something to eat for himself, he went to the drawing room to get drunker.

The sun had just set and the room was dark. He had no idea what time it was when he heard a voice coming from the doorway.

"There you are," said the deep male voice. The man opened the door wider, flooding the room with light.

Sirius looked up to see Remus smiling at his drunken form.

"Are you pissed?"

"Fuck off, Moony." Remus laughed.

"Come on, be nice," he said, walking into the room. "Why are you getting drunk alone? There is nothing sadder then a middle-aged man, sitting alone in the dark, downing God knows how much booze."

"I am not middle-aged!"

"Then stop acting like it. Be a proper thirty-six year old man and get smashed with your best mate," said Remus, grabbing a beer and sitting next to Sirius.

Sirius looked at him as he drank from the bottle. He watched his throat muscles working as he swallowed the alcohol. I want to kiss your neck, Moony.

"What?"

"Hm?"

"What are you looking at? Do I have something on my neck?"

"No, you're perfect."

"How many have you had?" laughed Remus.

"Harry thinks I'm poetic."

"Does he? How are you poetic?"

"He says I'm a chained man. And apparently, I have been ever since I was born. I never thought I'd see James Potter's son talking with so much..."

"Anger?"

"No, but he is a very angry lad, isn't he. No, he was... I don't know. Passionate."

"He loves poetry. He told me when I taught at Hogwarts. I caught him reading The Works of Edgar Allen Poe in the library."

Sirius sat up and looked at Remus carefully. "You're getting thinner," he said. "You're not eating properly."

Remus looked away. "Rent or food, you know that. And I'd rather have a roof over my head, especially in winter. And will you stop changing the subject."

"Live with me. Stay here."

"I don't need your charity, Sirius."

"It's not charity. And it's not just cause we both know you're gonna die, if you don't admit when you need help. I want you to stay because miss you."

"You see me almost everyday," he said, finally looking at him. "I come here on the full moon. How can you miss something you have?"

"But I don't have you." He intertwined his fingers with Remus'. "No how I want to. Not how I should"

"You... I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll stay. Please. I... I need you."

He sighed. "Okay."

Sirius put his arm around Remus and pulled him close.

"You know how hard it was just to say that don't you?"

"I know, Moony."

"D'you wanna know something else?"

"What's that?"

"I don't think you're poetic."

"What am I then?"

"You are the most complex riddle, in the entire world."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"I never have a clue what you're talking about."

And, Sirius thought, that for the first time in fifteen years, he was happy. He was laughing with Remus, and although they had a long way to go, he knew things would turn out alright.

God, that's cheesy.

THE END