ceredwensirius (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ceredwensirius) wrote2010-07-28 10:16 pm
ceredwensirius) wrote2010-07-28 10:16 pm
Entry tags:
Drabble: Silent Night | Remus/Sirius | PG
Title: Silent Night
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ceredwensirius
Written For:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
mp_ldws
Prompt: Genre/Cliche: Hurt/Comfort; Word Prompt: Pride
Rating: PG
Word Count: 200
Characters, Pairings: Remus/Sirius
Summary: Sirius has nightmares and Remus is his comfort.
Warnings: None.
It is not the silver-grey light of the nearly full moon that wakes Remus, the glow diffused by clouds and gauzy curtains and obstructed by the willow just outside the window, causing grotesque shadows to fall across the bed like the creeping fingers of a phantom menace. Neither is it the house settling down for the night, the soft groans from the heavy beams in the attic cooling after a hot afternoon, nor the quiet whispers of children tucked in their beds, or even the sound of an ambulance siren wailing into the night as it passes by Grimmauld Square. What wakes Remus is the jerk of limbs from the man beside him, the whimpers and small cries of terror brought on by the nightmares Sirius has nearly every night.
They never discuss it; Sirius, far too full of pride to admit he is plagued by bad dreams, would likely turn waspish if Remus were to mention it at all. So he does what he can, what he does every night, and silently folds Sirius up in his arms, placing kisses on his temple, his forehead, like a child, until Sirius stills, quiets, and succumbs to restful slumber once more.
Author:
ceredwensiriusWritten For:
mp_ldwsPrompt: Genre/Cliche: Hurt/Comfort; Word Prompt: Pride
Rating: PG
Word Count: 200
Characters, Pairings: Remus/Sirius
Summary: Sirius has nightmares and Remus is his comfort.
Warnings: None.
It is not the silver-grey light of the nearly full moon that wakes Remus, the glow diffused by clouds and gauzy curtains and obstructed by the willow just outside the window, causing grotesque shadows to fall across the bed like the creeping fingers of a phantom menace. Neither is it the house settling down for the night, the soft groans from the heavy beams in the attic cooling after a hot afternoon, nor the quiet whispers of children tucked in their beds, or even the sound of an ambulance siren wailing into the night as it passes by Grimmauld Square. What wakes Remus is the jerk of limbs from the man beside him, the whimpers and small cries of terror brought on by the nightmares Sirius has nearly every night.
They never discuss it; Sirius, far too full of pride to admit he is plagued by bad dreams, would likely turn waspish if Remus were to mention it at all. So he does what he can, what he does every night, and silently folds Sirius up in his arms, placing kisses on his temple, his forehead, like a child, until Sirius stills, quiets, and succumbs to restful slumber once more.