Also, your new lj name makes me want to write cutthroatbitch.
Recipient's LJ name: cutthroatpixie
Authors notes: Enjoy.
New Year’s Eve, 1980
The silky tie is already tight and uncomfortable at his neck, his stiff jacket slightly too tight at the shoulders. He glances around the room and finds Sirius quickly, and in that same moment, Sirius turns, his grey eyes catching Remus’s amber ones.
“Remus,” he says happily, embracing. He breaks his hold on Remus almost as quickly as it started, then presses his mouth to Remus’s in a passionate kiss.
Remus takes a deep breath to quell the dizziness created by the lack of oxygen while his lips were pressed to Sirius’s. “It’s not midnight yet, Sirius,” he murmurs.
Sirius’s dark lips dance into a pout. “What, I’m not allowed to kiss you? Just because I don’t have an excuse? What kind of excuse is midnight, anyway? I should be able to kiss you whenever I want.”
And he leans forward and captures Remus’s lips with his once more.
It’s only been an hour and almost everyone is ridiculously drunk. High-heeled shoes are strewn on the carpet and carefully curled hair is starting to fall into loose waves. Remus sees Caradoc Dearborn with a girl he doesn’t recognize (he wonders what happened to his last girlfriend, a pretty brunette who’d been in Ravenclaw) as he looks around for Sirius, who’s gone to get another drink. The Prewett twins are here as well, surrounded by a group of giggling girls in glittering dresses.
Arms encircle his waist and Remus turns around to put his lips to Sirius’s. “What took you so long?”
“Miss me?” Sirius murmurs against Remus’s mouth.
“Of course.” Remus grins.
And by the end of the hour, they’re both very grateful that Alice and Frank Longbottom, the hosts of the party, like reading so much that they have a room that serves as a library in their house, and grateful that it’s empty, except for, of course, he and Sirius.
They leave the library and sit by the window, watching the snow carried in glittering swirls by the wind. Remus has finally convinced Sirius to take a break from the alcohol for awhile—instead, they’re drinking the Butterbeer that Alice (who’s recently discovered she’s pregnant) has insisted on serving in the overly optimistic hopes that her guests won’t get too drunk. (Not that it’s working; most of them showed up bearing alcohol anyway.)
A star shoots across the sky, a streak of silver against the dark canvas of night and glimmering, windswept snow.
“I think that’s a good excuse to kiss you, too,” whispers Sirius. And another star shoots across the sky as he does.
There’s only an hour until 1981.
That last hour passes in a blur of laughing and music and bright lipstick kisses painted on the cheeks of several boys by drunken girls, and ends with the flash of a camera, capturing the moment forever.
Remus’s lips find their way to Sirius’s, blissfully unaware that this is the last year it’ll be like this.
He watches Sirius pour the wine, garnet colored liquid splashing against glimmering crystal. The two wine glasses glint in the candlelight, glittering, as they click them together then raise them to their lips.
“To us,” says Sirius.
They drink, and midnight strikes.
And Sirius’s lips, painted red by the wine, like lipstick, move closer to Remus’s and brush against them and they ring in the New Year in a swirl of sweat and wine and tangled limbs.
New Year’s Eve, 1981
This year, Remus spends New Year’s Eve by himself, sitting in the kitchen and listening to the steady ticking of the clock, watching its hands move slowly.
He downs a glass of the strongest alcohol he can find as the clock strikes midnight and miles away in Azkaban, Sirius listens to icy water slosh against the sides of his dark cell, raising a phantom glass in a toast.