|sam_storyteller (sam_storyteller) wrote,|
@ 2005-07-15 02:51 pm UTC
|Entry tags:||flopsies, harry potter|
First Posted to this journal 2.21.06.
"Oh, because I can."
They're sitting across from each other at the table, tea for both. He never smokes, or at least never used to, but Remus does sometimes and he offered, so the other man took one and lit it with a cocky grin and a flame that danced up from pad of palm to fingertip.
"It's a sort of magic, anyway," he continues, exhaling, the smoke intermingling with the steam from their tea.
"But I'm not all that interesting," Remus protests, taking a sip. It's proper English tea, thick and stewed and caffeinated. The other man is drinking herbal tea, which as everyone knows isn't real tea at all.
"But you are!" the blue-eyed man laughs. "Besides, there's always a happy ending. You survive, at any rate. You still live while others die."
Remus studies the tea. "I had noticed. Thanks for that."
The other man grins and knocks some ash off the end of the cigarette. "My pleasure. I've done well by you, anyway."
"You're too much inside my head."
"We're too alike," he answers, and anyone looking at them edge-on might see a similarity in the cut of their hair, the set of jaw and shape of nose, though one's hair is brown shot with silver and the other's is sandy-yellow. They're much of a height, the two men smoking together and drinking tea.
"Must be off, then," says the man with the yellow hair. "Keep safe."
"I trust you."
A quick smile. "Wise of you."
Oddly, he bends over the edge of the table and as Remus turns his face up to ask why, a kiss is pressed lightly to his forehead.
"It's a bad world out there," Sam says. "You need guardian angels to make sure of happy endings."