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soulless_sailor in ootp_united

WHO: Sirius, Remus, Samantha
WHERE: The flat
WHEN: Right after the Suspyre trip
WHAT: Pacing, relief, general Ben discussion
RATING: Uhh, PG or PG-13

Sirius was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Every so often he would stop, give the fireplace a severe look as if it had done him some terrible personal wrong, sigh, and go back to pacing.

He had tried putting a record on (Remus complained about it being too loud), playing guitar (he'd decided it sounded too depressing), making coffee (he was now wide awake), and even lying on the couch. Nothing worked to calm his nerves, or to convince him in the slightest way that Samantha was going to be okay, really she was, nothing to worry about.

This was a war-torn world. He had plenty to worry about.

His hand gravitated toward his back pocket for the millionth time that night, hunting for cigarettes.


Remus was perched on the couch, watching his friend pace with all the intent patience of a bloodhound.

It had probably only been an hour, but it felt like a year. Worried Sirius was irritating Sirius, and his fellow Marauder was obviously more worried than ever. It was all the werewolf could do to keep from Stunning him until Samantha got back.

It wasn't that he didn't understand the anxiety, because he did. It was the same anxiety he felt every time Sirius or Tonks went off and did risky things. But he didn't pace--much--and he tried not to dwell. Usually he read a book and kept an eye on the clock and the fireplace. All you could do was wait and hope in these situations, and worrying wouldn't change that--

He saw the gravitation and winced. "If you smoke another cigarette, Pads, my nose is going to kill you."
"I'm not going to smoke it in here," Sirius pointed out, knowing as he said it that this made very little difference to a werewolf nose.
"I figured that, but it'll still smell. I'm sure she'll be back soon, mate."
"Why does everyone always say, 'I'm sure'?" Sirius muttered. "You can't be sure."
He fought with himself for a moment. " 'I tihnk she'll be back' doesn't sound quite as comforting."
"No, but it's more accurate." Sirius pulled the packet of cigarettes out of his back pocket and toyed with it, sliding one slightly flattened tobacco stick out, and in, and back out again.

He wanted to be sure. He wanted that more than anything right now, so that he could stop worrying and sit back and wait, as if Samantha were at work rather than on a potentially deadly mission.

Oh, and the inner drunk could shut up any time it liked.
Sirius jumped a little and dropped the cigarettes.

"Oh--oh, you're back!" he exclaimed when he saw Samantha. "Are you all right? Did everything go okay?"
Instead of replying, Sirius slid his arms around her in a relieved embrace. He had been so worried...
Sirius let go, trying not to look hurt. Of course, she'd been in a pub, and pubs stank, and she didn't like alcohol to begin with...

"Cold--no, I don't think so--"
"No, no, I get it. I shouldn't have--look, are you all right?" He sincerely hoped she was, because he wasn't...

September 2008

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