Some of the stuff I write on my days off. (If you canrecognize the characters, muffin points to you)  

xxproflupinxx 34F
5 posts
11/10/2005 8:24 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

Some of the stuff I write on my days off. (If you canrecognize the characters, muffin points to you)

The stocks and shelves of Flourish and Blotts are always jam-packed with books, tomes and manuals. Their gold-stamped spines wink out at the prospective customers, and the whole shop has the dry, powdery scent of parchment hovering above the bookshelves, like a highly studious cloud. Remus has always loved the atmosphere of quietude that clung to the store like a fine dust, the way people spoke in whispers amongst the books, as if they were sensitive and worthy of reverence. In the back of the store there are large, overly padded wingback chairs, covered in red velvet for people to sit in and read at their leisure. He’d done this often enough, curled up in one corner with a novel propped open in his lap, losing himself in the complex worlds of Tolkien and Adams as every delicate turn of the page dragged him under, slowly, as if he were drowning in a particularly dry ocean. And, if he had anything to say about it, he’d be repeating the performance today, while his more mischievous friends ransacked the sweetshops and pubs for sugar and butterbeer.

However, it appeared his say had very little to do with the way things were working, today. He had spied the title he wanted (‘The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe’ by one muggle author, C. S. Lewis) nestled neatly on the topmost shelf, in between some novels penned by Richard the Lionhearted himself, but the greatest problem was that there were no ladders in sight, nor clerks. He would have “accio”ed the title to his hand, if it weren’t against store policy to cast magic around the books, or he didn’t run the risk of being buried under a mountain of hardcovers. Then again, he supposed it wasn’t that far… Summing up all his determination, he stood on his tiptoes and pressed himself flat against the bookcase, fingers groping blindly for the slim title, scrabbling at the leather bindings…

“Found the book you wanted, Moony?” a loud voice cut through the stillness of the store from right behind him, causing him to flinch. He knew, without turning around, that behind him stood Sirius Black, possibly with snowflakes still in his hair and his cheeks chapped with the wind, rosy and vibrant. His pockets were probably bursting with sweets, and he probably smelled of the signature, spicy scent of butterbeer. He shook his head and continued to reach for the book.

“Yes,” he gasped, sending a cloud of dust into his face, “but I… I can’t seem to… reach… it…!”

He rocked forward and up, further onto his tip-toes, putting more and more of his weight on the bookshelf, but still he couldn’t reach. He was about to ask Sirius for his assistance, when there suddenly came a warm, hard presence against his back, and all cause for speech became lost. Those sharp, clean lines of muscle pressed up against him, fitting to the curves of his body like a cloak, all around him. Arms reached up above his head, fingers brushing against the back of Remus’ hand as the taller boy traced a slender digit up the book’s spine, hooking up at the top and pulling it away from the shelf with a soft scrape. Particles of dust caught the waning sunlight above them like a shower of pixie dust, glimmering like tiny, settling stars, as Remus leaned back to earth, against that hard, firm chest behind him. Sunk against the other body for a moment, as the arms encircled him to present the book like a relic, he thought he could smell the hot, syrupy aroma of butter toffee, and he smiled to himself, taking the book in his hands.

“Well, Bob’s your uncle then.” The voice passed transient through them both like a shiver, shaking his very foundations, but the cheerful tone was slightly wistful. Suddenly, the cage of flesh and bone was gone, the surrounding warmth abandoning him, only to let the void be filled by a cocoon of cold air. Turning, he followed that creamy-sweet scent with his nose, as if in a trance, to find Sirius grinning down at him rakishly, dark hair in a tussle about his face and still limp where molten flakes of snow weighed it down. His face was lively and flushed, dark eyes bright from behind the hood of sooty lashes, and true to Remus’ prediction, his pockets were practically bursting with striped candies and colorful confections. They both smiled.

“Don’t take too long, alright?” Sirius nodded towards the door, “Prongs and Wormtail want to go tobogganing out by the shrieking shack–they’ve managed to transfigure a lone ski and an old door into a four-person sled.”

Remus blinked once, and laughed slightly, shaking his head. He would never, ever be able to curb the insatiable desires of his friends to make as much of a scene as possible. But somehow, the thought occurred to him that life would be much more boring if he ever managed. His inner prefect strongly disapproved of such defeatism.

“You go on without me,” he responded, hugging the book tightly against his chest and trying to hold on to the rapidly fading flavor of Sirius in the air, “I’ll be–“

“Yes, yes,” Sirius finished for him, rolling his eyes and walking towards the door, waving his hand through the air in a gesture of exasperation, “You’ll be out when you’re good and ready!”

rm_DOMdevCple 67M/56F

11/10/2005 9:06 pm

Interesting blog , we like it

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