InsaneJournal

Darjeeling

                "Oh, it was years ago," said Sirius, flushing handsomely.

                "Couldn't you try and remember, just this once? A flying motorbike!"

                Sirius thought to himself that Arthur Weasley looked entirely too sweet when he was very excited about something. While Molly was hard to tolerate, he always got on with Arthur fairly well. "Yes, I'll try and draw up some plans or something."

                "I look forward to it," said Arthur with his brown eyes twinkling behind his specs. He didn't even need to say that, really, as Sirius could tell that he was looking forward to it—and very much so.

                So when Arthur left, Sirius got to work. He ignored Moony's pleas and guilt-trips, staying up in his room, hard at work, wracking his brain for old memories.

                "Snape," he said, at the end of his rope.

                "What?"

                "I . . . need your help. Please don't make this difficult, just try and help me remember what we did to get my bike to fly."

                "Ah, the infamous flying motorbike." Snape released his grip on his wand and motioned for Sirius to sit down, waving his wand to arrange another chair just across from it, sitting down to stare straight into Sirius's grey eyes. "I don't believe I shall have to explain what I am doing in detail, like I have to with your godson."

                "Just shut up about him and do it already," Sirius snapped, and soon found himself viewing, as if through someone else's mind, the four marauders huddled around the motorbike, casting charms. Sirius had known everything there was to know about the bike's workings and had taken it apart, transfigured some pieces, charmed others, and altogether created a magical hell on wheels.

                Snape pulled out of his mind and he leapt up from the chair. "Parchment, parchment, parchment," he muttered, looking about, before racing up all the steps to his room to write some more.

                "You're welcome," Snape said with disdain to the empty room.

                "Look!" said Sirius after the meeting, "Look!" He brandished his notes as if they were the cure for dragon pox. "I did it!"

                "You did it!" repeated Arthur, and Molly frowned at him as he sat down again, looking them over. "Why don't you go on ahead, dear," he said to Molly, who sighed and agreed that was probably for the best, judging from the fact her husband was now completely entrenched in enchanting Muggle objects.

                "This is wonderful, Sirius," he said finally, after everyone else had cleared out and the only sound had been the crackling of the fire, the only movement the shuffling of papers and Sirius's foot tapping in anticipation, like a dog willing to please.

                "You think you can use these in some of your research?"

                "Oh, most definitely!" he said, beaming. "Did you hear about the flying car I enchanted? I see a lot of similarities between the making of the two, the car and the motorbike."

                "Yes, I heard about it. Of course I did. The twins took a great liking to it, didn't they?"

                "That they did," said Arthur with a chuckle. "Too bad it's gone wild now. It's running free in the Forbidden Forest."

                "There's something poetic about that," said Sirius, and Arthur laughed. "Alright, alright, so I've never been one for poetry. Too mushy."

                "I'm not much of a poetry man myself," said Arthur.

                Sirius smiled at him for another moment before shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Shouldn't you be heading home?"

                "Oh, you mean Molly? She's fine. She wouldn't have left me here if she didn't want me to stay."

                "I suppose you're right. She can't hate me much more than she does already anyway, can she?"

                "Not much more, at least," said Arthur, and Sirius grinned.

                "Are you hungry?"

                Arthur shook his head.

                "How about just some tea, then?"

                "That sounds fine," said Arthur, and he immersed himself in the scribblings again as Sirius fixed him some tea. Sirius returned with two steaming cups and some milk and sugar, noticing Arthur took only milk, and he took only sugar.

                "What did my tea say to your tea?" snorted Sirius.

                "'You complete me, darling.'"

"I think you mean 'You complete me, Darjeeling,'" said Sirius, and they both laughed, even though it really wasn't all that funny.

"You know, Sirius, I do think I really ought to go. Might I keep these for a while?"

"Arthur," said Sirius honestly, "I wrote them for you."

Arthur placed a hand on one of his for a moment. "Thank you." He Flooed away, then, and Sirius sat staring at the milk and the sugar, and at the now-empty chair Arthur had been sitting in.

He had a dream that night that he and Arthur were inside the engine of a motorbike, chasing each other as if little children playing tag, whooping and hollering. Then a flood of milk had come and swept them up in its current, until they washed up on a shore of tea leaves. Wringing out their clothes, laughing, they noticed that large, sugared snowflakes were falling from the sky and the milk froze over like a pond in the winter, and Arthur stared at it for a long moment before asking him to dance. They danced on the frozen milk together, for the first time not laughing, just completely serious.

Sirius awoke with a craving for milk in his tea.

Peculiarly, Molly raised an eyebrow when her husband asked her to pass the sugar. "Twenty-five years, dear, and now you decide to change up the way you take your tea?"

"Midlife crisis?" he joked, and she smiled at him.

It was over a month before he saw Arthur again, and when Arthur stayed behind to a nod from Molly, his heart leapt.

"I have something for you. How much room do you think we can create from the parlor?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Sirius.

"Does Buckbeak get any exercise?"

"Well, yes, there's a room we've enlarged the ceiling in, and he flies around a bit. But I don't see what this has to do—"

"Show me," said Arthur, and he placed a hand on Sirius's shoulder, and Sirius paused before nodding and leading the way silently.

Arthur looked around at the space, highly impressed. "Well, this is perfect, really."

"Perfect?"

"You'll see. Stay here, Sirius, I'll be but a moment."

Sirius frowned, but watched him leave, silently wondering what Arthur could have as a surprise that would require so much room. Probably a new enchanted device or something.

Arthur returned, a heavy, invisible item afloat with the power of his wand. "Ready?" he said.

"As I'll ever be," said Sirius curiously.

Arthur lowered it to the ground and made it visible again, and Sirius's jaw dropped. He could have cried. In fact, he did.

"I know it isn't the same," Arthur said, "but it's close. Isn't it?"

"Merlin," Sirius breathed, stepping closer, running a hand over the seat reverently. "Oh Merlin. Arthur . . . . How can I . . . Arthur . . . Merlin."

"The debonair Sirius Black, at a loss for words?"

Sirius glanced over at him. "Debonair? Just who have you been talking to? Certainly no one I know."

"I think you're debonair," said Arthur with a soft smile. He moved closer to Sirius, leaning an arm on the handle bar. "And handsome and witty."

"You have to say that," said Sirius, "You're my friend." He leaned his head down a bit to hide a flush.

"Do I have to do this?" Arthur reached for the hand that was on the seat, pulling Sirius closer. He pressed their lips together gently, then pulled away.

"Yes," said Sirius softly. "Now do it again."

Arthur stroked Sirius's cheek with his thumb. "I think you've been a great role model to Harry, or at least plenty adequate. Molly's just upset about Fred and George being so near to leaving—that'll make over half the children out of the house."

Sirius nodded softly.

"You're not too thin, not just skin and bones. You're still handsome." He pressed a kiss to Sirius's cheek. "And you're certainly not mad. I'd like to get to know you better."

"I still have spells of depression and sometimes I relapse, thinking I'm in that awful place," whispered Sirius, as if he didn't dare say the words out loud.

"These aren't shortcomings, Sirius. These are your battle scars. They show what you've had to deal with, what you still deal with. You are brave and strong, and not even a dementor can take that away from you."

Sirius whipped out his wand, Conjuring a bed behind Arthur, then pressing him back onto it. "Thank you," he said softly. "And I mean that. Haven't had much to be thankful for in a very long time, either." He tossed his wand onto the bed next to Arthur.

"You're welcome," sighed Arthur happily, and he allowed Sirius to slowly undress him.

"How are you holding up?" Sirius asked, seeing a scar from the attack Voldemort's snake had made on his body, tracing it with a fingertip.

"Fine, fine," said Arthur. "Just my battle scars." He smiled. "Now, I believe you were undressing me."

Sirius smiled. "I believe I was as well." He made quick work of Arthur's clothing after that, leaning in to lick at the scar along his side, eliciting a soft groan.

"Let me see you as well," Arthur insisted, gazing up at Sirius so sincerely he immediately complied, whipping his robe off, and soon standing naked, a light flush betraying his confident-looking stance. "Very nice," he said softly, and Sirius gave a modest smile, getting up on the bed, positioning himself on top of the man, gazing down at him.

"How would you like to do this?" Sirius murmured.

"Whichever way you need it to be done," said Arthur, reaching up to playfully tug at a bit of his hair. Sirius moaned and leaned forward, sitting on Arthur's chest, pressing his prick to his lips. Smiling warmly up at him, Arthur moved his hands to Sirius's hips and poked out his tongue, lapping at the tip of the prick a bit, making Sirius writhe, needing more.

Arthur pulled him a bit closer by the hips, sucking the tip into his mouth, still lapping at the head, the heat and wetness forcing Sirius's eyes closed and drawing a shaky sigh from him. Arthur drew a bit more in, moving his mouth forward onto the shaft, then back again, gently encasing Sirius in the warmth, and then sliding back down, then up again. One of Sirius's hands cupped the side of Arthur's face.

After a moment, Sirius shakily pulled away from Arthur's tight, soft lips, fighting to catch his breath as he reached for his wand. He pointed it at his entrance, widening it and wetting it with magic, moving back to hold Arthur in place and slowly, slowly sink down upon him. There was nothing painful about the magically-aided burn. It was pure bliss, and Arthur's prick struck his prostate on the first try. Sirius gasped and held still.

Arthur groaned, brown eyes glazing as he stared up at Sirius, a hand rising to card through Sirius's hair.

"You feel so good," murmured Sirius, arching slightly as he pulled up and then slid back down. "Oh!"

Arthur thought he looked absolutely amazing like that, so free and wild, yet still a bit modest. He lowered his hand again, gripping at the sheets.

Sirius rippled the muscles of his arse around Arthur's prick on his descent, trying to coax an orgasm from him. "I'm really close," he panted, moaning. "Come for me, please."

Arthur pushed his hips up slightly, reaching to grasp Sirius's hips again, rocking up into him until he came. It was powerful, and left him feeling glad he was lying down, for he'd surely have to very soon if he hadn't been doing so already.

Sirius moaned, tossing his head as he felt the man empty into him, tightening himself around him as if to maintain their connection longer. "Arthur," he breathed, and he brought one of Arthur's hands to his saliva-wetted prick, forcing it to stroke him until he gasped and released in a flood, feeling lightheaded.  

Sirius slowly disentangled himself from the position, lying down next to Arthur, staring blankly at him for a long, silent moment.

One of Arthur's hands searched for one of his, located one, and squeezed it gently once. They fell asleep together like that.

"I should go," said Arthur, checking his watch. Sirius, already awake, stretched and yawned, nodding. That hand found his again and squeezed it once more. "Stay safe."

Sirius snorted. "From rabid dust bunnies? You too. And, er, Molly as well."

Arthur smiled. "I'm only a Floo call away if you really need me. You can owl too, of course—Snuffles, was it?" Sirius nodded. "You should try out the bike and tell me how it runs."

"Now I know why the twins are so cool," said Sirius. "They're dreamers. They get that from their father."

Arthur smiled softly, looking for his clothing to make himself presentable again. "You're a dreamer too, Sirius, if I've ever met one."

"It's hard to think about bigger things in this hole," said Sirius honestly. "Had a dream the other night about you, though."

"Oh?"

"We were dancing on a pond of frozen milk."

Arthur blinked for a moment, apparently trying to decide whether he was making a joke or not. "It sounds lovely," he said after a moment, deciding he was serious.

"It was. There was sugar snow."

"Sugar snow?"

"Sugar snow."

"Hm. Well," he said, putting on his second shoe, adjusting his robes and cleaning his glasses with a tap from his wand, placing the wand back in his pocket, "I'll see you later."

"I think you mean 'I'll see you later, Darjeeling,'" Sirius chuckled.

Arthur laughed. "See you later, darling," he said. He pecked Sirius on the cheek, tucked the blankets around him, and left.

Sirius, feeling much less alone than he had in a long time, cleaned himself with his wand, removed the bed from the plane of existence, and replaced his clothing. Then he tried out the motorbike, which flew rather smoothly. As smooth as frozen milk in a sugar snowfall.