A ficlet and a drabble... Title: Do You Remember Alan Mackenzie? Characters: Remus, Sirius Word count: 300 Notes: Birthday drabble (times three) for mindabbles, prompt: friendship
Do you remember Alan Mackenzie, Sirius asks you one afternoon after Harry leaves. Ravenclaw, prefect, two years ahead? He hands you an address ripped from an old envelope, not quite meeting your eye. Take a look for me? he asks quietly. No need to disturb him.
Alan Mackenzie comes home to a small house in the suburbs of Manchester shortly after seven that night. He looks much like he did at seventeen: thin, blond, serious. Ink stains on his fingers. You stand outside his kitchen window, half hidden in the twilight, puzzled, watching him shed his cloak, put a pot on to boil, and start the washing up.
Ten minutes later a dark-haired wizard with a grocery bag appears in the kitchen doorway. He kisses Alan on the cheek and pulls a box of pasta from his bag.
Alan Mackenzie answers questions you’d never thought to ask.
There’s no need to stay any longer. You wait until they move away from the window before you Apparate.
Sirius is sitting on the couch upstairs when you return, listening to the wireless, watching the sun go down over the square. Somehow he knows, before you say anything. You can see it in his face.
Sorry, you say, joining him on the couch.
Outside, children are playing in the square, and their voices drift upward.
He shrugs. Wasn’t all that serious, really. Who is, at twenty-two?
You let that pass.
So? His curiosity is palpable.
Alan? Much the same. Still writing, I think. Looks like he’s doing well.
The other man? Dark-haired--
I never knew, you say.
Now you do, he says.
A woman’s voice drifts up to your window, telling the children it’s time to go home.
Sirius slips an arm around your shoulders and leans against you gingerly.
All right? he asks.
All right, you say.
Title: All the Time in the World Characters: Remus/Sirius Word count: 100 Notes: Birthday drabble for la_onza, prompt: getting older
Sirius is not happy about being thirty-six again. Ever since you arrived, he’s been griping about aging bodies and sore muscles and your inexplicable fondness for the old family tomb. You both used to be better-looking, he points out. Remember how things were at school? Before the war? Before everything went to hell? James' afterlife must be filled with pranks and sunny afternoons at Hogwarts, he says pointedly.
The whole show would be more convincing if he didn’t blush madly every time he catches your eye. You think that thirty-six--this thirty-six--will do just fine for both of you.