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Title: Meeting Hope
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Genre: Gen
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Hope Lupin meets Sirius Black for the first time. He's not quite the boy she expected from her son's stories.
AN: This is a side-fic to an as-yet unwritten WIP, and it fills the 'Meet the Parents/Family' prompt on my![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trope_bingo card.
The boy that steps out of the Floo is one she’s only ever caught glimpses of before. He’s thin and pale, with a shock of long black hair pulled back into a tail at the back of his neck. His face is utterly impassive – he looks like he’s been carved from marble – and his robes, despite him having just stepped out of a fireplace, are immaculate. Soot is apparently something that happens to other people.
She’s heard stories from Remus about a wild boy with a wicked sense of humour and an infectious laugh; the boy her son is now greeting seems far removed from that. He seems more like the stories Lyall has told her of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black – the oldest wizarding family in Britain; arrogant, muggle-hating elitists – and she purses her lips in disapproval. Remus should know better than to consort with people who think like that, she thinks.
Remus is smiling, though; like this boy in his expensive robes has brought the world with him, and it’s for his sake that she fixes a smile on her face as she stands, smoothes down her skirt, and steps forward. She wishes, briefly, that Lyall was here for this instead of at the Ministry, but it’s far too late for that.
“Mum, this is Sirius Black,” Remus tells her, his voice warm with an affection that’s startlingly familiar. He sounds like Lyall, she realises, when he speaks about her. “Sirius, this is Hope Lupin, my mother.”
She offers her hand politely and he takes it, curling his long, thin fingers around her own, and she blinks in surprise when his lips brush over her knuckles.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Lupin,” he says. His accent is so crisp that she can hear the money dripping from every vowel; he could probably cut glass with it. But when he looks up at her properly, with the palest grey eyes she’s ever seen, she sees for the first time that he’s frightened.
Frightened. Of her. It’s a bizarre, terrible thing to be feared, she thinks.
“Call me Hope, please,” she says, using the soft, gentle tone that she usually only uses on Remus after the full moon. She glances at Remus, who stands hovering between them, worrying his lower lip between his teeth in a habit that she wishes he hadn’t picked up. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” she tells him. “Remus has told us so much about you.”
So many sweet, wonderful things that are still so hard to associate with the boy in front of her and his stiff mannerisms. She squeezes his fingers gently before dropping his hand completely.
“Lunch is in about half an hour, boys,” she says. “Do you want to give Sirius the tour?”
…
She’s pulling a leg of lamb out of the oven when she hears it: the bright, infectious laughter of a stranger, mingling with the soft chuckles of her son. She glances out of the kitchen window and sees them. Sirius has an arm slung about her son’s shoulders and there is mud spattered on the hem of his expensive robes – apparently, unlike soot, mud isn’t something that just happens to other people. Their lips are red and their cheeks are flushed. They’ve been kissing, she realises, and she suddenly understands why Sirius would be so nervous about meeting her.
They stumble in through the back door, and she welcomes them with the smile that they need to see and orders them to the bathroom to clean themselves up. She’ll deal with the revelation of her son’s sexuality later. For now, she has lunch to serve and a boyfriend to quiz.
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Genre: Gen
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Hope Lupin meets Sirius Black for the first time. He's not quite the boy she expected from her son's stories.
AN: This is a side-fic to an as-yet unwritten WIP, and it fills the 'Meet the Parents/Family' prompt on my
trope_bingo card.The boy that steps out of the Floo is one she’s only ever caught glimpses of before. He’s thin and pale, with a shock of long black hair pulled back into a tail at the back of his neck. His face is utterly impassive – he looks like he’s been carved from marble – and his robes, despite him having just stepped out of a fireplace, are immaculate. Soot is apparently something that happens to other people.
She’s heard stories from Remus about a wild boy with a wicked sense of humour and an infectious laugh; the boy her son is now greeting seems far removed from that. He seems more like the stories Lyall has told her of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black – the oldest wizarding family in Britain; arrogant, muggle-hating elitists – and she purses her lips in disapproval. Remus should know better than to consort with people who think like that, she thinks.
Remus is smiling, though; like this boy in his expensive robes has brought the world with him, and it’s for his sake that she fixes a smile on her face as she stands, smoothes down her skirt, and steps forward. She wishes, briefly, that Lyall was here for this instead of at the Ministry, but it’s far too late for that.
“Mum, this is Sirius Black,” Remus tells her, his voice warm with an affection that’s startlingly familiar. He sounds like Lyall, she realises, when he speaks about her. “Sirius, this is Hope Lupin, my mother.”
She offers her hand politely and he takes it, curling his long, thin fingers around her own, and she blinks in surprise when his lips brush over her knuckles.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Lupin,” he says. His accent is so crisp that she can hear the money dripping from every vowel; he could probably cut glass with it. But when he looks up at her properly, with the palest grey eyes she’s ever seen, she sees for the first time that he’s frightened.
Frightened. Of her. It’s a bizarre, terrible thing to be feared, she thinks.
“Call me Hope, please,” she says, using the soft, gentle tone that she usually only uses on Remus after the full moon. She glances at Remus, who stands hovering between them, worrying his lower lip between his teeth in a habit that she wishes he hadn’t picked up. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” she tells him. “Remus has told us so much about you.”
So many sweet, wonderful things that are still so hard to associate with the boy in front of her and his stiff mannerisms. She squeezes his fingers gently before dropping his hand completely.
“Lunch is in about half an hour, boys,” she says. “Do you want to give Sirius the tour?”
…
She’s pulling a leg of lamb out of the oven when she hears it: the bright, infectious laughter of a stranger, mingling with the soft chuckles of her son. She glances out of the kitchen window and sees them. Sirius has an arm slung about her son’s shoulders and there is mud spattered on the hem of his expensive robes – apparently, unlike soot, mud isn’t something that just happens to other people. Their lips are red and their cheeks are flushed. They’ve been kissing, she realises, and she suddenly understands why Sirius would be so nervous about meeting her.
They stumble in through the back door, and she welcomes them with the smile that they need to see and orders them to the bathroom to clean themselves up. She’ll deal with the revelation of her son’s sexuality later. For now, she has lunch to serve and a boyfriend to quiz.
