Sirius' Guide to Pissing off Parents

Kisses, Arcades and Ice

It's hard to move in the morning. Everything is slow and heavy and warm. Sirius looks over and sees the back of Freia's head on the pillow next to him and it's strange waking up with another person.

The night hadn't been uncomfortable, they'd settled into the bed together making sure to keep distance between them and had remained apart throughout the night. Sirius isn't used to sharing with people; the girls he hooks up with don't stay overnight, so he thought it would be worse, he could be jumpy when woken up unexpectedly.

It was too like when his mum burst into his room after one of her dinner parties as a kid, angry and furious at Merlin knows what. But Freia was completely still as she slept, and her little snuffles and breaths were the opposite of terrifying.

"Morning," Freia grumbles, voice foggy from sleep. She shifts and rolls over, blinking open from her eyes.

"Morning," Sirius replies, trying not to smile at her looking so delightedly sleep ruffled.

"Did you sleep alright?" She asks and he hums in confirmation.

Together they pad into the kitchen and start cutting slices of bread and taking out jars of marmalade, honey and jam. It's a strangely domestic scene and, once again, Sirius isn't sure why he's so comfortable with it.

They drink cups of coffee on the sofa, chatting and giggling with an ease Sirius usually only has with James, Remus, Peter and Lily, since her and James had become close.

"I just think it was cruel, that's all. I'd like a new one," Sirius tells her, matter of factly.

"Come on, it was funny! But if you really want a new poem, I'd be happy to write it... umm what about..." she taps her finger on her chin and pretends to be thinking hard as she looks over him. "You have hair as black as the night... you make a beautiful sight... yet your personality makes me want to vomit..." she takes a longer pause, "... I wish you were hit by a comet."

Sirius launches himself across the sofa and digs his fingers into her ribs making her laugh and squirm.

"What?" She chokes between gulping breaths. "It has a space theme! Like your name!"

They descend into helpless laughter, Sirius' collapsing on top of her, their half-drunk coffees forgotten on the side table.

The creak of the staircase causes them to fall silent and Freia tenses beneath him.

"It's my mum," she whispers, and Sirius wonders how she can differentiate her sister and mother's footsteps so quickly.

Sirius pulls back, making to retreat to the other end of the sofa but Freia grabs his arm.

"Kiss me," she says.

Sirius' mind blanks and he's completely unsure what to say or do or think. Still, he nods, a sharp thing, almost a jerk.

He's still playing catch-up when her lips touch his. She tastes like the coffee she's been drinking, toothpaste somewhere behind that and something real that's just her. She's warm. Gentle. And Sirius feels like he's drowning. Perhaps there is no oxygen reaching his brain, because it's swimming with a hazy feeling not unlike seasickness. Would that make the sofa they're on the boat? Or maybe Freia's the boat. No. Freia's the ocean, Freia's the sky and the seabirds, Freia's the sail.

The thought escapes him and suddenly he can only feel: lips on lips, a tongue brushing against his own, a hand in his hair.

It's over and Sirius feels drunk and confused, wondering when it ended and why, forgetting how it started.

"She's gone," Freia breaths, seemingly unaware of the cold, seeping dread Sirius feels as he stares down at her, at her hair and eyes and cheeks and lips.