Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

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"It's regaining control of your lungs when you've had the wind knocked out of you. It's the tiny flower you find on the sidewalk that declares winter has taken a bow. It's the ripples that surround your canoe paddle on a quiet, crisp morning; it is the chirps of the birds that remind creation it is time to wake up. It is the bumblebees kissing purple blossoms hello. It is the blooms blushing beneath their touch. It is bare feet in dust that turn to mud as God sends long-awaited water to end the drought.

//the right kind of love//S.K.K.//March 14th, 2018//

A/N: Skip to 35 seconds in the video for him to actually start playing, lol

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Hogwarts, October 1972 (Second Year)

Sirius had been overwhelmed with joy when Poppy (the woman Remus insisted Sirius call Madame Pomphrey) released his friend from her care. Three days and likely thirteen pounds of chocolate later, it was the pair trudging up the stairs of the Gryffindor tower with nothing but their bickering slicing through the silence. Well, Remus was trudging. His legs were heavy, somehow exhausted after lounging in a bed for three days. On the other hand, Sirius was leaping and bounding everywhere like he was on some sort of drug.

"Oh, come on, slowpoke," he cried, tugging on Remus's arm impatiently.

Sirius had been in some sort of mood ever since he returned from breakfast that Sunday morning. He seemed gladder, more high-spirited than ever. He teased Remus endlessly and showered him in friendly praise. In fact, it would've appeared that Sirius had every intent on making Remus smile for the entirety of the day. Of course, no one would have minded; Remus needed to smile more.

"Stop whining and let me take my time," Remus barked, though there was no harshness in his tone.

It felt to him as if he were an old father with an errant three-year-old being tugged around a toy store without his morning cup of coffee. Nevertheless, Remus made attempts to soothe Sirius's energy by promising him more one-on-one time, taking trips with him to the kitchens for more chocolate, and attending their first Quidditch game that upcoming Wednesday – as if he weren't planning on it already.

"You're acting like a grandfather, old man," Sirius groaned, dropping Remus's hand and racing up the staircase.

"You're older than me," he jeered.

"Then act your age," Sirius challenged, that impish smirk stretching across his flushed face.

Remus liked this change of attitude, especially after the nature of their conversation the day prior. Sirius's revelation, the scars and trauma, had weighed heavy on Remus's heart, and he tried coming up with ways to heal his friend, to get him out of his current situation. Not many ideas came to mind aside from kidnapping and harboring a fugitive runaway, which might have been a capital offense to the Ministry; he certainly didn't need any more attention from them.

Sirius waited for his friend at the Portrait hole, saying the password excitedly, "Catawampus!"

The Fat Lady swung open, revealing their common room. Oddly, Remus felt more at home than ever amongst the scarlet and gold. It was warm, as it always had been, and smelled strongly of cake. He'd been unable to eat for most of his time in the Hospital Wing, and the prospect of a proper meal suddenly called to him. Lily was in the corner, watching from over the edge of her runes book. Once again, the little runt wanted to get an early start on next year's classes. According to Alice, she'd been reading up on advanced studies.

"Hi, Remus," she crooned.

Remus hadn't seen or spoken to Lily or Julienne in days. The aftercare of this last transformation had been taxing on his brain; Remus just didn't feel like talking much. So it was nice of the girls to give him his space, opting to send in the usual gifts and candies to make him feel better. It might have been cruel, but Remus really only wanted Sirius around as he recovered. He was the only one who knew enough of Remus's condition to know precisely what he needed when he needed it and when to back off. Lily and Julienne had the habit of hovering, a girl thing, most likely, and it could be a bit suffocating at times.