Designs Of Vigana Hair

"broken windows", a present for Chu

Author: nefene
Title: Broken Glass
Beta: \u0026lt;/ span> acardia17
Pairing: Remus / Sirius
Genre: Introspective, Angst Warnings
: Flash-fic
Rating: Pg13
words Number: 439
Summary : There are four colored glasses in the cupboard.
NdA : When Remus is summoned to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, go back to visit years after the Shrieking Shack.
corposissimo thanks to \u0026lt;/ span> acardia17 , fast and always so precise and careful. And when I smooth the ruffled hair XD A big kiss darling. For
\u0026lt;/ span> zia_chu ! ♥ Merry Christmas, my dear! Did you send your letter, and Santa Claus has left me Read more ... I missed a bit 'between the various points and then all of a sudden (I was doing and thinking about the salad fanmix) jumped out this . I hope that this calm my very first attempt (it was a challenge and an experiment at the same time - when he saw acardia17 Annex "RemusSirius" for betaggio did not believe it XD) with the Remus / Sirius you can make at least a little 'pleasure. I would note there sgorbietto XD Upside always a little 'with photoshop ^ ^ "
A big kiss ♥ And again, Merry Christmas!
nefene
\u0026lt;/ span>

broken glass.

There are four colored glasses in the cupboard. Arranged in line like soldiers at attention, yellowed by time and aged from the gray dust that has settled over them. An empty bottle and left in a corner of the room.

The Shrieking Shack has remained the same, with the cobwebs, the squeaks, broken furniture, the ghostly atmosphere that has come to love and that is family from a lifetime.

ran a finger on the edge of a yellow glass, and then a green and close to the heart of the breath-taking; to swallow - it's like he stuck a big rock on the bottom of the gorge - to breathe again relegated to a corner and thoughts and memories, to be able to stay, albeit unsteadily, standing. Matter of training, now.

diverts the eye slowly: since it opened that locker he felt attracted by the small red cup, right next to what once was his, blue. A melancholy smile and love deforms features, and with fingertips touching the cold surface of the glass purple. Thick clumps of dust adhering to his skin.

There are questions that sometimes do not have the strength to suppress. Yet there is no logic in abandoning the memories, when they proved to be false, inconsistent: its past is nothing but a cruel charade. But when his life was never really a matter of logic? And there, in that room, can not stop the thoughts, can not help but wonder if there is still a trace of the taste of Firewhiskey in those four small glasses. If there is anything left of what they were then.

And if that red cup on the board there is still the flavor of Sirius.

If still unable to close his eyes to hear him, that flavor, moist skin with kisses and bites, tongue intertwined with that of one who was once his friend, paste alcohol and desire. He felt tremble inside every single time, and was convinced that his life could be enclosed and kept in kisses.

Disclosing the eyelids, with bated breath to stop the tears that unwanted are already wetting his eyes and moves his hand on the blue glass, affording at last to touch it again, after so many years. Picks it up from the shelf and holds in his palm. Then, slowly, stretches his hand, letting it slip to the tips of his fingers, and then even further.

The sound of shattering glass broke the silence of the Shack, cut the thread of his memories.

There are three colored glasses in the cupboard, placed with an order that is meaningless.

Finish.