Author: Mosh Title: Shadowmancers Note: You may not archive, re-post, or alter any of my stories without my permission. Please contact me first. Thanks! |
"Well," says Sirius, aimlessly tossing his black robes across the dorm room. "That was the worst fucking summer of my life. What an absolute shitter." James shrugs out of his own robes and drops them on the floor next to his trunk. He'd spilled gravy down them during the Sorting Feast, which wouldn't have been too bad - with the brown on black thing - only, Sirius had insisted on helping to clean it up (blatantly to show off in front of all the Gryffindor newbies), and managed to turn the damp patch bright green. It had been funny at the time, until McGonagall had spotted him and scowled in her 'when I catch up with you, Mr Potter, there will be trouble' way. "I know, man, you don't have to say it. You should just get out of there." It feels like the hundredth time James has said it. He wishes he could put a bit more passion behind the words, but eh. He can only help Sirius to a point. Sirius flops onto the window seat and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head so he's speaking to the floorboards. "You don't understand. I have nowhere else to go. They're all against me now, every damn one of them... 'cept Uncle Alphard and Aunt Andromeda, but it's not like they're nearby." He pauses to brood for a moment, then adds, "And Christ, I swear Reg has become even more of a bastard, if you can believe it. Got me in so much trouble with mum." James can't be arsed to unpack his school stuff, so instead he opens a side drawer of his trunk and retrieves a bag of Honeydukes chocolate he had acquired near the end of the summer holidays. He shoves a Cockroach Cluster into his mouth and crunches on it. "What'd he do?" he says around his mouthful. "The little shit went ratching around my bedroom and found the ticket stub for the Mad Geezer gig your folks took us to. Needless to say, mum went berserk, back-handed me and then grounded me." "Is that why you were so grouchy on the train?" "I wasn't grouchy," Sirius grumbles. "I thought you were PMTing or something, like Evans. She must be on the rag permanently, what with the way she speaks all the time." James sits on the end of his bed, facing the window and Sirius. He stares out past Sirius's head, at the darkness beyond, picturing Evans's scowling face. So cute. "Nah," Sirius mutters to the floor. "That's just how she speaks to you, you twat." James chews in silence for a moment, pondering this. The thing is, Evans has been acting kind of strange towards him lately, but he can't put his finger on what's different about her. She still scowls whenever she looks at him, especially when he grins and waves at her, or blows her kisses, but there's something odd about it... the way she stares that little bit longer, and her mouth does this weird wobble thing that James has yet to decipher the meaning of. "Anyway, the reason I wanted to come up here before the others is 'cause I have something to show you." Sirius's voice pulls James out of his thoughts. James watches him rise from the window seat and head to his trunk. "I've told you time and time again, Padfoot," James smirks, "it's not the size that matters, it's what you do with it, so don't fret, okay?" "Shut the fuck up," mutters Sirius, rummaging around the depths of his trunk for a moment. He eventually sits up straight. "Got it. Come take a look at this." He's got that eager, devilish tone he always has when he's forming a plan. A genius Padfoot plan, most likely involving some sort of extra-curricular activity. James wonders at which point they'd become so bloody predictable, but hell, it's still fun. He still feels twelve when Sirius suggests something naughty, and he's pretty sure he always will. He immediately starts to thrum with anticipation, like he and the trouble-making part of Sirius's brain - which probably counts for most of it - are inexplicably connected. "You've got porn?" He knows it's not porn, but he has to ask anyway, because it's the thing to do. He kneels beside Sirius and bites his lower lip, staring down at the object Sirius holds reverently in his hands. It's a book. An old book by the look of the faded, scratched leather cover and fraying string bindings. "Nice," says James. "Shush," Sirius says quietly. "Do not mock. I know it doesn't look like much, but you should never judge a-" "Hufflepuff by the size of his todger, yeah, yeah, I know." Some of his excitement has diminished, he has to admit. He just hopes this mouldy old book contains some wicked spells. "So, what can it teach us to do?" "Fuck with my little brother," Sirius says darkly. "Oh, man," James begins. "No, no, listen to me." Sirius turns to face him more directly now. He puts one hand on James's shoulder, his palm hot and heavy through James's shirt his mum made him wear for the train ride. "There's this thing called Shadowmancy." Sirius doesn't have to go any further if he doesn't want to, James is already head-over-heels. "Shadowmancy," he repeats. "I haven't a clue what that is, but gah, it sounds so... so... me." Sirius snorts. "Nah, you'd be more Speckybastardmancy." He laughs and thumps Sirius lightly in the chest. "Come on, don't keep me in suspense." "All right, all right." Sirius brushes his fingers over the book cover, the tips tracing the embossed gold lettering scrawling over the front: The Shadowmancer's Codex. As he looks down, his hair falls over his face, obscuring it like inky rivulets of oil. Add to that his lowered tone, and he looks kind of impressive, James has to admit. His anticipation rises even further. "There's some crazy stuff in here, Prongs. We're talking borderline forbidden magic, almost up there with the Animagi stuff we've been doing." James sits up a little straighter. Sirius could have just told him he's won the Weekly Wizarding Lottery or Biggest Cock in the History of Man Award or something. He swallows, his patience slipping away. "And?" "Last week I caught my old man carting a load of books from his private study into the library," Sirius explains. "Now I know for a fact anything he keeps in his study is there because it's special to him. He probably hid them there when Reg and I were little and used to play in the-. Well, yeah, 'cause we might have ripped them up or something." He shakes his head as if he's trying to clear away a memory, and he doesn't look up at James. "With my old man, this is the equivalent of a pot of gold. Naturally, I snuck into the library at a later date and had a good poke around." Only now does he pass the book over for James to study. James takes it, turns it over in his hands. "It's kind of heavy for such a small book." "Chockerblock with all kinds of spells and stuff about Shadowmancing." Sirius nods. "Prongs, it's perfect for Reg. That little turd, he's always creeping 'round after me in the shadows, then sucking up to mum and getting me in the shit." His expression darkens considerably, his brows knotting together. The funny thing is, whenever he makes that face James can see the resemblance between him and Regulus even more prominently. It's so ironic he would laugh about it, if he didn't know Sirius would punch him in the mouth for drawing such a comparison. "I hate him, so very much." "I get that." James flips through a few thin, yellowed pages, scanning but not digesting - there's so much, he'll need some time to read over the first few chapters alone, as well as all the footnotes. He finally manages to tear his eyes away. "You do realise if we're caught with this we'll be expelled." "Absolutely," says Sirius, letting out a short laugh. He leans in a bit closer with a grin, until their noses are very close to touching, and lowers his voice. "Just like with every other illegal object we've stashed around this room, and various other locations in the castle." James swallows awkwardly at the close proximity, but he manages to nod and smirk. "Well, what did you have in mind, then? Do you know how this all works?" Sirius pulls back and purses his mouth, then bites his lower lip. "I didn't have time to go through the entire thing, but I got the gist of it. It's your basic incantation-to-subject stuff. The real kick is in the power of these spells. Takes some concentration to master them." His voice has an edge of glee; James is pretty certain Sirius is picturing his brother's face right now. "I see." He reluctantly hands the book back. "And uh, when were you hoping to exact your grand revenge?" Frowning, Sirius flips the book back into his trunk and covers it with a couple of roughly folded robes. James is sure Sirius packs his own trunk. He feels vaguely bad about that because his mum still packs his belongings for him, except for his porn stash and the map, both of which he usually sneaks in just before he leaves for King's Cross. "As soon as possible, really." Sirius scratches his chin with the tip of his finger. "Tonight's out - it's already too late to prepare. You'll need to have a look at the book, and Remus and Pete will be up any minute now. I'd rather not mention it to them just yet, yeah? Not until we know what it does and whether it'll be any help to us during that time of the month." He puts a very slight emphasis on the last five words. James nods again. "Not to mention it's highly unlikely your brother will be out and about on his own tonight." "I can get a copy of his timetable by the end of the week." There aren't many Slytherins worth knowing in their year, but Sirius always has a means to find out important information, mostly from the people in the lower years he provides the occasional 'need-to-have' item for. Oh yeah, Sirius is the guy to know if you're looking for some porn, or cigarettes, or a tip to see through the fifth floor girls' changing room wall. Both of them fall silent for a moment to ponder. "Okay, how about the weekend - Friday night?" James finally supplies. "By then everyone will be settled back in and Macca-G would've let her guard down a bit." McGonagall is especially sharp at the start of a new term. Many a decent marauder-aiding device has been confiscated in the past due to their carelessness during the first few days, when she's more likely to be roaming the halls and keeping a hawk-like eye on everyone. James does not fancy her finding this particular book, or there really will be hell to pay. "You're right," says Sirius. "But of course I am," says James plainly. Thus, the date is agreed.
* * *
"Okay, so... okay." Sirius watches James pacing back and forth in front of the window, muttering to himself and re-scanning various pages of the book. It's past eight o'clock and already getting dark outside; summer is drawing to a close. Sirius doesn't care all that much because he's never liked the summertime. At least, not since he was small, before coming to Hogwarts, getting Sorted into Gryffindor and 'associating with the wrong sort' or so his bitch of a mother has told him every single summer since he was eleven. "Come on, man, you know it already. It's not hard to follow." He's getting impatient now. After four and a half days of studying The Shadowmancer's Codex during every spare moment they could find, Sirius is sure they have the main incantations, movements, and theory down, even though they didn't manage to get all the way through the book. Most of the stuff at the end is blather anyway - blanket dark magic warnings they've heard countless times at school. He's feeling confident. Well, he figures it can't be worse than some of the Transfiguration homework McGonagall sets them, and they've been working on the Animagus transformations for the last year, reaching various thrilling breakthroughs. Shadowmancing sounds similar in theory and practice; the only difference being the control issues. With shadows, it's near-impossible to weigh how much magic is needed for the desired result, and that's before adding physical substance to give the shadows texture and force. It just depends how many are around, how long the incantations are recited, and how focused the caster is. Ugh, it's all so fucking tedious, but Sirius is sure it'll be worth the hassle and he's more than willing to test it out tonight. James has been practically wetting himself over the prospect all week. He snorts quietly to himself and slips his hand in his pocket, drawing out a scrap of paper. The paper is light pink and smells vaguely of vanilla. On it is scrawled a list of times, next to which are the various classes, after school activities, study periods and breaks that Regulus has marked on his timetable. Thank heavens for Jen Yutaka, third year Slytherin. Or is it second year? Bah, it doesn't matter which, he thinks - he has what he needs, and all for the price of a bit of well-aimed flirting. James continues to flip through the pages as he paces, murmuring and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose every time they start to inch down. He's sweating. Probably from the effort of forcing the cogs in his head. Sirius lets out a loud, bored breath. "Prongs!" "All right, all right." James stops and lets his arm drop, the book dangling in his hand at his side. He turns to Sirius. "We're good to go, I just wanted to make sure. We don't want him knowing it's us, do we." Then he adds, with one eyebrow rising. "Or do we?" Sirius waves his hand vaguely. "Whatever, I don't care if he knows it's me or not." "Yeah, but won't he tell? If Macca-G hears about this," he holds the book up and waves it around, "we won't just be in trouble with her, but Dumbledore and the Ministry and our folks, too." Sirius deflates. "Shit, I suppose so." Damn, and he was looking forward to Regulus's panicked face, staring at him with shock and frustration and utter hatred at being served his just desserts so spectacularly. "We'll have to take your Cloak. Unless Reg has developed incredible invisibility-penetrating powers, that'll be safe enough." "Right-o," says James enthusiastically, tossing Sirius the book before heading to his trunk to collect his Cloak. He stuffs it into his pocket, the fabric so fine and delicate he can just about squeeze it all in there. James pulls his t-shirt down over the prominent bump and Sirius snorts at him. "Shut up, or you can carry it instead." "Nah, it's fine. I've got the book." The plan is to head east once out of Gryffindor Tower, to where Regulus will be just about finishing up his extra credit Divination classes. Sirius has no idea why anyone would want to learn extra Divination since the regular is a load of utter bollocks anyway, but then, that's Reg for you. Although they checked their map earlier, Sirius figures it's worth having another look before they head out. The map is nowhere near finished yet, but they've at least got a semi-decent tracking system in place that allows them to locate various important people within the walls of the castle. The category of 'important people' mostly falls over professors and enemies right now, but Sirius, James, Remus and Peter are constantly adding to it, and soon plan to include the rest of the Hogwarts grounds and everyone within it, right up to the Forbidden Forest. "Better check the coast is still clear. You never know when Macca-G's feeling frisky and up for some House Point deduction-fu." "True." James pulls out his wand and aims it at his trunk, then mutters the code to his Locking Charms. "Accio Marauders' Map," he then adds, and a scroll of parchment flies out, hitting him squarely in the palm. Unrolling it, he scans the page. "Macca-G is still in her office, probably dishing out evil detentions. Filch is down in the Great Hall, probably picking his greasy nose behind the tapestries." He traces the patterns on the page for a few more moments. Sirius can see the intricately woven lines of enchanted ink faintly on the other side of the paper, as well as numerous shimmering, shifting dots moving about inside them. "And Regulus is where he should be." Sirius checks the clock. "Almost time. If we go now we should meet him on his way back down to the Dungeons." James refolds the map. As they head out and down towards the Gryffindor common room, a buzzing excitement starts to curl in Sirius's stomach. He follows James out past the portrait of the Fat Lady and into the corridor, his foot catching the back of James's shoe. "Easy there, Padfoot." "Sorry," he says in a hushed tone. Checking the coast is clear, James gives him a quick side-glance and they duck behind the nearby statue of Ursula the Unremarkable to put on the Cloak. As Sirius slips one hand into his pocket and fingers the worn edges of The Shadowmancer's Codex, James slings the soft fabric around them both. Sirius has to duck slightly to be on level with James, and still manages to earn himself a forearm to the side of the head. "Ow, watch it, pillock," he hisses. James lets out a hot, breathy laugh that Sirius feels feathering against the side of his face, and a shiver winds up the length of his spine. "It's not my fault you're such a lanky bastard." "It's not my fault your growth's been so stunted over the years. I told your parents to water you regularly during the holidays, but did they listen?" "Shut up." James is smiling; Sirius can tell by his tone. They adjust the cloak so it reaches the ground all the way around them. "All right, let's go."
* * *
A third of the way down a wide, fourth floor corridor, Sirius and James wait. They do not bother standing behind any statues or tapestries, although they're careful to lurk close to the wall so as not to get in Regulus's way should the spells fail - or should they work, depending on what happens - and they need to make a quick exit. Sirius is practically tingling at this point, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, The Shadowmancer's Codex clutched tightly in his hands. He doesn't need to look at it, though - he has the necessary incantations committed to memory. "Will you stop that," James says quietly from beside him. "You'll reveal our feet if you're not careful." "Sorry, mother hen. I can't stand still." "Anyone would think it was Christmas by the way you're carrying on." "Christmas is nothing compared to how brilliant this'll be." Sirius wriggles beneath the Cloak a bit. "This'll be better than Christmas, you wait and see." Winter holidays are no better than summer ones at the House of Black, so really, anything would be better than Christmas, though he doesn't voice this. James lets out a faint whistle. "Dunno, man, not much beats my mum's home cooked roast." "Shh," Sirius says quickly. "I think I hear something." "Sorry, I couldn't hold that one in. It's those sprouts from dinner." "Prongs, shut up." Sirius cocks his head. From far off, a door opens and closes again. Footsteps pad across old, creaky floorboards, growing louder and louder. The sound is coming from an adjoining corridor. This is it - it's got to be Regulus. If it's not and they've already missed him, Sirius is going to be severely pissed off. "You ready?" he adds in a much quieter whisper, one hand gripping his wand, the other squeezing the book. "Yeah," James says from next to him, his voice now lowered to match Sirius's. Although his senses feel heightened by the excitement, Sirius also detects something else lurking on the edges of his perception, just rippling at the corners like paper being burned from the outside in. It curls and almost unsettles him, makes him unbearably edgy, makes his stomach muscles flinch and twitch, and lower, jumping in his abdomen. He can't put a word to it. He can't even put a vague sentence to it - it's beyond anticipation. A dark haired boy rounds the end of the corridor suddenly, his thin, fifteen-year-old frame slightly awkward, like he hasn't entirely grown into his skin yet. The boy is so familiar Sirius almost yelps out loud with glee. James nudges him a number of times in quick succession, like he's trying to hammer the fact that he's spotted Regulus and is equally as excited. Sirius almost moves too soon as Regulus nears, step by step, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, his head lowered and hair falling over his eyes. James curls his fingers around Sirius's wrist, squeezes, lets go; Sirius takes a deep breath and holds it. He raises his wand, close to his body so as not to lift the Cloak too much. Regulus is almost upon them. A few more paces. Just a few more. James jabs his elbow into Sirius's ribs so hard Sirius barks out the start of the incantation. Under the muffle of the Silencing Spell, it won't be heard by Regulus anyway, but he almost stops to smack James in the head for that. He presses on, striving to find the rhythm of the words, focusing on his subject. As his concentration deepens, his brow dips, and he begins to feel the foreign words shaping his mouth rather than the other way around. He lets it happen, until it feels like he's slowly drinking the syllables in rather than speaking them. The consonants are strung together weird, nothing like the Latin he's used to at school, but he finds more confidence and volume after a couple of recitals. For a moment, Sirius panics that it's not going to work. Nothing happens at first - there's no shift in the atmosphere like the book suggests, nothing seems untoward. He recites the lines over and over, speaking them louder and clearer as he becomes more comfortable with the curve of the spell over his tongue. It's unlike anything they've learned, in school or out, but once he's found the inflections and put them to use, he starts to sense a certain buzz in the air, like magical static in wake of a fight. Regulus is directly in front of them when he stops dead in his tracks. Sirius almost stops speaking in turn, but manages to keep up the incantation. Regulus's body tenses, his back straightening visibly, like he's just been Petrified on the spot. Through the spill of his black hair, Regulus's eyes widen. At the same time, his jaw clenches, the muscles jumping against his chalk-pale skin. His arms fall slack, his hands shifting out of his pockets to hang limply at his sides. Sirius is dying to know what's going on in Regulus's head right now. If only there was a way of stepping in there, to witness the fear - he hopes there's fear, he really does - to feel the confusion. "Holy shiiiiit," he hears James hiss from beside him. Ignoring it, Sirius repeats the spell again, faster now, and then again, the consonants rolling together like water, the emphasis on the words coming as easily to him as breathing. He suddenly remembers he needs to stop for oxygen soon, but he doesn't - he can't - the words keep coming, never seem to end. Then, he sees the movement, starting on the ground at his feet. At first it's like he's moving, but he realises with amazement it's not the floor that's shifting under him, but the shadows all around them. The darkness pushes along the worn corridor carpet like a lazy tide licking a shore, its waves rising up a little bit every time Sirius hits the end of the spell and dives back in at the start again. The shadows creep closer to Regulus, though Sirius is pretty certain Regulus hasn't spotted them. Yet. The waves of black rise imperceptibly - one moment it's just a thin layer, the next it's full-on clouds of the stuff, rolling towards their target. When darkness curves around Regulus's ankles, Sirius hears his brother's intake of breath under the sound of his own voice. "What the-?" Regulus grates out, in his customary clipped tone. He does not move, apparently still unable to. The shadows waver around his calves for a moment, then start to rise, curling around and around like a spring, moving higher to lick against Regulus's knees, thighs. Regulus begins to shiver then and he balls his fists at his sides. Sirius can clearly see his brother's profile stark and sharp - the cut of his jaw and the slight rise at he bridge of his nose, the tight set of his lips. They're almost bone white from where he pinches them shut. "Padfoot, Padfoot..." Sirius hears James speaking to him, but it sounds removed, like he's dreaming it or hearing it through a layer of cotton wool. He's aware he's still speaking, his mouth moving as if on autopilot, but he can no longer hear his voice or make out the words of the spell. One thing he is aware of, though, is The Shadowmancer's Codex, burning in his palm like it's been stoked in a fire before handed to him. Regulus chokes out a little grunt, helpless and confused. The shadows seem to consume him from the bottom up, now misting around his lower body like a miniature, angry storm cloud. Sirius can see small black dots moving around within, like flies buzzing pitch against the dark. He's not sure what they are, but from the book's description he supposes they're the magical residue that gives the shadows physical texture. Or maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him - he's been staring so long he's not even aware of blinking so far. Suddenly, he feels a restriction in his throat and tries to breathe out, but can't. He struggles, something pounding a fast beat in his ears and, underlying that, the lingering drone of his own voice. "Padfoot, for fuck's sake, snap out of it!" James growls. "Wake up!" Sirius reaches up and pries James's hand from his mouth. From behind his shoulder, he can feel James's breath fast on his neck. "What... what the hell was that?" he manages to stammer. "I don't know, but it was fucking scary." James sounds a little breathless, too. Sirius swallows, his throat dry and lips sore. The Cloak feels heavier than before, like it's been doubled up, and the book in his hand is really hot to the touch. Sirius quickly stuffs it back into his pocket, and wipes his hand on his leg to stop the burn. "Christ, will you look at that," he gasps, his focus falling once again on Regulus's hunched profile, standing not three feet away from them. Reg's mouth gapes open, drawn down slightly at the corner. His eyes are shut tightly, so tight Sirius can see lines forming at the edges, like premature crow's feet. His nose is a little wrinkled too, and if it wasn't Reg it would almost be cute. He's trying so hard not to panic, to think his way out of this - Sirius can see it, almost hear the desperate workings of Regulus's brain as he runs through all his possibilities. The shadows wrap around him like a cocoon, shifting up and down and all around - rising as high as his neck, sinking as low as his calves. It's during one of their dips that Sirius notices, with absolute white-shock, the raging bulge at the front of Regulus's trousers. He almost chokes on his laugh-cry of surprise, but he can't draw his eyes away from it. When Regulus lets out a wholly filthy moan, desperate and despairing, James shifts to Sirius's right, going tense. He's just spotted it, too, Sirius realises. "No way." "Oh my God." "Padfoot... we've got to stop this. I don't want..." He doesn't finish, just fades out, and Sirius tries to finish James's sentence in his own head, but that fades out too as Regulus's back arches and he drops unceremoniously to his knees with a thump. Shit, that had to hurt, though Regulus doesn't show any signs of pain. All Sirius can see is... want. Want, raw and aching and burning, blurring Regulus's sharp features as he sucks in ragged gasps. His mouth is open and soft-looking and wet, as he repeatedly licks his lower lip, little groans now issuing out as the shadows weave up over his shoulder and then down between his legs, forming a spinning circle around him. His hips start to thrust forward, small, uncoordinated jerks at first that grow deeper, more obscene, like his groans. Sirius has never seen his brother in a state like this before, so open, so real. It's nothing like the moving pornos he's had the pleasure of viewing - not even close. This goes beyond that, way beyond, to a place he's certain he shouldn't be. Shouldn't be looking. Shouldn't like it, or want to feel what Regulus is feeling right this second. He squirms in his clothes, hardly daring to breathe, wanting to run away from the sight of Reg getting off - from the fully erect cock pushing up at his groin, the small damp spot on the material where his cock leaks and strains - but he can't get his feet moving, and James is no sodding help at all. "Ung," he says helplessly. Regulus tips his head back and gasps out a broken sound, then draws in a harsh lungful of air. He appears to be supported by the shadows twirling around him, his body bent backwards at an impossible angle without toppling. His face is growing wet with sweat and his hips - holy hell - they're pumping the air now, viciously. The shadows move like a wayward hoola-hoop, caressing Regulus as they spin and spin, licking him from neck to balls in a circle. Sirius can hear James's panting breath next to him and almost growls for him to shut up, but he can't speak, only watch Regulus fuck up against the spell - Sirius's spell - and go totally rigid all of a sudden. Sirius almost moans with him as Regulus comes, thrashing and swearing, his voice so rough it sounds like it's the sweetest, most fucking incredible torture. As soon as Regulus slumps the shadows begin to slow, to wind down in their relentless stroking. They swirl much steadier now, and Sirius can see tendrils of them snaking off across the carpet, returning to their original places. Wisp by wisp, the shadows recede, the floor taking on a more natural look, light where light should be. As the darkness fades, Regulus is revealed, lying on the worn carpet in a heap of panting, sweaty boy, his hips still jerking in aftershock, still letting out little whimpers. He's barely conscious. James is hardly a presence any more. He's so still, so quiet, if Sirius couldn't still feel the Cloak draped over them both he'd swear James had done a runner. "Prongs," he whispers, and then has to swallow thickly. His voice should not sound like that - so weak, so shaky. "Prongs." "I..." comes the reply. "I..." "We have to get going, man. Right... right now." Okay, it's time to get his feet moving. Sirius closes his eyes against the sight of his brother, and reaches blindly for James, latching onto his wrist - finally finding an anchor. He snaps his legs into action, dragging James with him along the corridor, back the way they had come earlier. James lags behind a bit, but Sirius doesn't release his hold until they're half way back to Gryffindor Tower. On the stairs, he lets go of James and slumps against the banister. He opens his mouth to say something - something to make what they just did right, some joke to lay on top of the tense atmosphere - but nothing comes to him. The only thing Sirius knows is that the thing they just witnessed does not make him happy, or pleased, or smug or anything but ashamed, uncomfortable in his own skin. It's too hot; he yanks off the Cloak, and James doesn't even bother to point out that if they're seen they'll get detention. "Tell me," James finally pipes up, "Tell me that was funny, Padfoot. Tell me that was fucking hilarious and we're geniuses." "That was fucking hilarious and we're geniuses." "Liar." James leans heavily against the banister next to him, his shoulder brushing Sirius's briefly before he moves away, severing the contact like he'd been burned. "Can we just call this one a non-night? Forget it ever happened?" The staircase swings the last few metres, then slots into place. Sirius steps off first. "Yeah. It never happened." He wishes he could believe that. Back in the dorm, after a silent journey the rest of the way, he settles down on his bed and gets out a magazine. And although he skims over the pages, he doesn't seem to absorb any words, and the models shaking their tits at him in their photo frames just aren't helping, either. He's still too hot, his stomach aches, he can't look at James, or even in the direction of James’s bed. Remus gives him a curious stare and finally, after a heavy silence, asks if everything's all right. "Yeah, fine, Moony. Just got a bit of a headache, that's all. Had to listen to Prongs going on about Evans all night." He hears a snort and a muttered, "Twat", from across the room, but that's all James seems willing to supply. Fine, he had said to Remus. Yeah, right. Things are so not fine it's almost funny, and he knows that this isn't the end of it. Not by a long shot.
* * *
It's almost a month and a half before the dreadful Regulus incident is brought up again. As Sirius had expected, it isn't over. And the real shitter is, at this point he had almost managed to put the damn thing out of his head, too. Almost. He's done everything he can to avoid his younger brother, and for the most part it had worked - he kept his eyes from the Slytherin table during mealtimes, made sure to use a different route between classes if their groups were likely to pass each other. Those were pretty much the only times where they might possibly have to exist in the same general area. But now James is bringing it up, and the thing that bugs Sirius the most about this is that he's wanted to bring it up, too, or at least search for some kind of... he doesn't know what. Closure, maybe. Some kind of punctuation. "Padfoot, about the book..." "Oh man, I thought we agreed about that." "Yeah, we did. But." James has stopped them on their way to Divination, leading him off into a quieter stone corridor. Of all the classes they can probably get away with bunking, it's Divination, because thankfully Professor Nerriel insists on not using a register but the power of her mind to read out the class list. She always forgets a few students, which can be very advantageous. James now leans against the wall opposite, while Sirius perches on a windowsill, turned to the side slightly so he can look out and down onto the Hogwarts grounds. It's better than looking at James's awkward expression, at the flush in his cheeks that might not be so apparent to anyone else, but Sirius knows James's face almost as well as his own and this flush is different. "I should just chuck the fucking thing out or something." He's thought about it, many times, but he hasn't yet been able to go through with it. Maybe with James's encouragement he'll be able to get rid of The Shadowmancer's Codex. It's not like he plans to ever use it again, and returning it to his father's study next holiday would only confirm he'd stolen it, rather than the book simply having been mislaid. James makes a quiet, frustrated noise. "Look, I've got some things to say, and if you laugh or tell anyone I swear to Godric I'll sever your balls." When Sirius finally looks at him, James's eyes are fierce and dark behind his glasses. He's not messing around - but then, nothing about the situation he's bringing up has been funny so far. "My balls are sacred," Sirius says, but he finds himself almost being careful, which is ridiculous because shit, this is Prongs. Prongs has no right looking so serious. "Go for it. I won't say anything." James swallows and drops his gaze to the flagstones at his feet. He scuffs the toe of one shoe against them, tracing the cracks in the floor. "If you throw that book out, it'll be one of the stupidest things you've ever done." "Oh?" says Sirius. "And what good has come out of that book, in your experience?" "I dunno, but Regulus didn't seem to be complaining." Well, if that isn't the biggest conversation killer ever. "Fucking hell, do you realise what you just said?" James's brow dips. "Yeah, I do. I want to try it." Scrapping his previous thought, Sirius realises he's just found the ultimate conversation killer. He blinks. "What?" James raises his eyes to look at him. It's almost painful, watching him shape the words with his mouth. "I want to try the book - that spell. I want to try it out." Sirius laughs. "Good one! I'll just pretend you never said you want to try out the spell we used on my brother. The one where he got fucked by some weird shadows." "Oh come on, look me in the face and tell me you don't want to know, too." Sirius straightens up now, takes a step forward. His face feels hot. He shoves his hands in his robes' pockets because he doesn't know what the hell to do with them, short of strangling himself on the spot. He can't look at James any longer and he knows that speaks more volumes than he should let it. He grits his teeth, swearwords welling in his throat. He hates that he's feeling like this because he's already entertained the idea of trying out the spell on himself multiple times since that night. He hates most of all that he knows, deep down in the part of him that only speaks the unguarded truth to himself, that he will likely go through with this. Because it's Prongs. Then it slowly starts to really sink in, that for Prongs to get off on those spells, Sirius is going to have to be the one performing them. That thought simultaneously unsettles him and sends an unnamed jolt of something hot straight though him. "So?" says James. "So what?" says Sirius. "Don't tell me you don't want to know what it's like." "Fuck." Is there any point lying? No, not to James. "'Course I want to know, but listen - if we do that spell on you, technically... think about it, Prongs! I'll be doing the spell on you." James waves his hand, brushing off Sirius's concerns. "Not really. It's not like that - it's not like it's you and me. It's just a spell, you won't be anywhere near me and you won't be looking anyway." He puts an inflection on the last part, as if the prospect of Sirius actually watching is the most absurd thing ever. Sirius clenches his jaw. "And aren't you the one always saying you'll try anything once?" "Bastard." He really is a bastard, turning things Sirius has said in the past around on him like that. He finally looks up at James. It's not easy, but he meets his gaze levelly. "You are a first class bastard, Potter." "Excellent," James says, but he doesn't sound particularly happy, just kind of relieved. He breathes out long and low. "This weekend's Hogsmeade weekend. I reckon that's the best time to do it. We'll go to the Shack." "It'll be freezing in the Shack." "So we'll set up some Charms. It's that or the dorm, you know, with Remus and Pete around." Sirius raises one shoulder. "Yeah, I guess." Even as he says it, he hears his own tone of voice, and it doesn't sound at all like him. At the same time, he feels within him a rising buzz, a lot like he feels before a Quidditch match. He's not sure what to make of it, this mixture of blind fear and white-hot excitement. There are many and varied things Sirius has had the good fortune to witness, but his best friend reaching orgasm isn't exactly something he's ever been faced with before. Sure, he's heard the other guys wanking behind weak Silencing Spells and drawn bed curtains, but there won't be any such barriers in the Shack at the weekend, and it's not like he can just think of something else or block out the noises, either. Already he feels their friendship has irrevocably changed now they've reached this awkward, impulsive agreement. There's no turning back now. "It goes without saying," James begins, fiddling with the cuffs of his robes. "Absolutely," Sirius finishes, clearing his throat. "To the grave, man." "Then, let's head down to the kitchens and see if we can blag something sweet from the house elves." The moment is now past. Nothing more can be said about it, Sirius knows. He nods and follows James out of the corridor and down to the kitchens as the clock strikes the hour and signals the start of class. For some reason, the chimes sound really ominous to him.
* * *
Nothing is mentioned out loud, or even acknowledged silently, until a substantial number of Heating Charms and chill barriers are at work in the Shrieking Shack. It's a cold Saturday evening and a scattering of crispy Autumn leaves flit across the floorboards of the upper-back bedroom. They haven't been here since the last full moon, Sirius recalls. Feels such a long time ago, like a different lifetime. James shrugs out of his robes. The movement of his shoulders catches Sirius's eyes and he watches as James tosses the material over a rickety chest of drawers. The wind howls around the house like a banshee's been let loose, and he can hear the clack-clack-clack of a window shutter hitting the outside wall, although none of the cold air breeches their charms. It's almost too cosy. Straight after prep that evening they'd headed up to the dorm to fetch the Cloak and book. Sirius had again taken The Shadowmancer's Codex and James had again pocketed the Cloak, although this time neither action had been entertaining like the first. A sense of trepidation permeated the atmosphere around them, but neither Sirius nor James had allowed their usual, off-hand banter to falter whatsoever. It had been too dangerous falling silent, thinking too much about what they were about to do. The banter is all dried up now, though. Sirius wanders over to the four poster and sits down heavily on the edge. One of the legs is snapped and the bed sits at an angle. There are stirrings of curtains above, faded material that wisps in the air like a large, dusty cobweb. Sirius stares up at it and listens as James moves around, spelling furniture out of the way. They had lit an oil lamp when they'd arrived, giving enough light for them to prepare the room, but Sirius knows that it will have to be turned down so there are sufficient shadows. "Okay." James's voice draws his attention. He's standing in the centre of the dingy room, a gaping fireplace open wide behind him like jaws trying to consume him. He scratches his head and looks around. "I think I'm- oh, wait." He goes over to a broken rocking chair and picks up a thin cushion, its stuffing half-spilling out of one edge. He then drops it on the floor in front of him. "Just remembered..." He doesn't have to say what he just recalled - Sirius can clearly still picture and hear Regulus falling to his knees. "I'm ready." Sirius looks up at him. "Prongs, last chance to back out. Are you sure you want to do this?" James swallows and remains quiet for a while. "I couldn't ask anyone else to do this, if that's what you're getting at. You should know that, man. So... yeah, I need to know. It's like I can't put it behind me until I know what it's like." Sirius has no choice but to nod. He feels exactly the same, and he knows James knows that. Clapping his hand on his knee as he rises, he takes one small step forward. He can't bring himself to get too close, not for this. James points his wand at the oil lamp and turns it down low until the flame is just a small flicker. Sirius is more aware of the shadows than he usually would be, how they rise all around, silent and looming like Dementors. If he didn't know better, he would say they were eager, but he knows it's just his own mind playing stupid tricks on him. James looks vaguely frightened, which is definitely not in Sirius's head. He rarely sees him like this, but James is adamant, and Sirius isn't about to back out, either. "All right," he says, finally. "Gonna start it now." He holds the book up, opens it, licks his lower lip, flips a few pages. Clears his throat. Twice. Sirius figures the best thing to do is to not look up at any point during this, and instead let his focus fall entirely on the book. He can remember most of the incantation off the top of his head, but he chooses to use the book as a shield this time and follows the spell with his eyes as he reads out the words. He begins, speaking quickly, part of him wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. Or, at the very least, fall into the strange stupor the spell caught him in last time. Back then, James had put his hand over Sirius's mouth to stop him, but he knows James won't be able to do that this time. He just hopes he has the willpower to halt the spell after a while. He hasn't yet decided what he'll do once he's finished, since he has no idea what kind of state James will be in by then. He hopes James will have collapsed on the floor. Fuck, he starts to think they should've planned this a bit better. But it's too late now. He tries not to listen to what's happening outside his personal space, beyond the scope of him and the book. Though the more he tries not to notice how the darkness seems to swim at the edges of his vision, the more he becomes aware of it and is inexplicably drawn to it. Yeah, as he speaks a little louder, he's definitely aware of movement against his trouser leg, like a breeze only more purposeful. A ghostly snake, gracing past his hip, and something large and black undulating past him like a creature that belongs in the lake rather than an old enchanted house of horrors. Sirius's gaze passes back and forth over the spell, but his words are much faster this time and the letters and symbols begin to swim on the page. He thinks he hears a noise like a gasp, or maybe a sigh - he's not sure. He wants to clear his throat but he dares not stop speaking. The noise comes again, clearer the second time, unmistakably James's voice, definitely a gasp. Heat curls in the pit of Sirius's stomach and he's slightly dizzy now, from the warmth, the way the room seems to move around him, the way The Shadowmancer's Codex seems to thrum in his hands. He closes his eyes, still reciting, and lets the book drop to the floor. He barely hears it land. He will not look. Not even as he hears a curse issue from James's direction, in a strained voice. He will not look. Not even when he hears a half-moan half-cough follow. He will not look. "F-fuck... Padfoot, this... fuck..." A coolness rushes up the length of Sirius's back, and dips over his shoulders, disturbing his hair. He knows it's a shadow, heading towards James. He's almost shouting the incantation now, and he turns around to face the bed, lifting his hands to his forehead and running his fingers back through his hair desperately. It's a little damp beneath his fingertips. There's a pull in his limbs, in his bones; he feels it much clearer now he's turned around, because it seems to seep through him, from front to back. The heat in his gut is more insistent now, growing like an ache he can't reach. It's a familiar feeling. Frighteningly familiar. Sirius opens his eyes, his voice trailing off, leaving nothing but a loud pounding silence, punctuated by James's soft moans from behind. He hears irregular footsteps and the creak of floorboards. James stumbles a bit, and almost automatically Sirius turns to make sure he's- Oh, he shouldn't have done that. James looks ragged, his shirt hanging off his shoulder at one side, bent over a little, eyes wide and fierce. He needs, Sirius can see it - there's an unhinged kind of neediness to him Sirius has never seen before, and Sirius grates his teeth, because he's getting that. He's starting to understand how that feels. A rotating wall of grey and black surrounds them, shadows mixed with magical residue, particles from the air around them. He knows if he pays attention to it for too long he's going to lose his footing and fall. He sees James's mouth moving, wobbling at the corners. "Don't s- stop. Don't stop now," he grates out. "It's too late," Sirius goes to say, only nothing comes out. He dry swallows hard. His body knows what it wants - it longs for something solid, something to touch against. His body knows this before Sirius has even realised it himself - that ache, the heat and pull, it's for something to push against, because he's hard as a fucking rock and the black swirling tendrils smoothing over the front of his trousers every now and then are doing nothing to help at all. James stumbles another couple of steps towards him, and almost as if they're working on a pulley system, Sirius finds himself edging forward through the shadows. "I can't stop it," he manages to say. James is close now, staring up at him, pale as milk and barely understanding. But he nods. "It's..." James gasps, reaching out with one hand to grasp Sirius's arm. His fingers pinch hard enough to turn his skin red, to bruise. Sirius takes a handful of James's collar, squeezing it so hard the material pulls tight around the back of James's neck. He seems to draw closer. Sirius feels James's hip bump against his, and there's hardness and heat, too, and that groan - the really deep, rattling one - that's not James's. It's his - Sirius's. He shakes his head even as he feels the press of James's body, all angles and rises of bone and so real Sirius grates his teeth. "It feels so good," James mutters, his eyes now barely even slits. He looks drugged to the heavens, unfocused and soft. His hair curls down over his forehead, brushes Sirius's face. It's damp, too. Sirius can't locate his vocal chords and gives up trying to think of something to say, not when he can feel James's erection surging up against his thigh. He still clutches James's shirt in his fist, and uses it as an anchor as they sway back and forth. The shadows spinning around them give off a thundering whirr, or maybe it's the wind still blowing up a storm outside. Sirius is only just aware of the sounds all around, because it's the light groans coming from deep in James's throat that reverberate through his head the loudest. "Can't fucking... stand." James's legs give out first, and Sirius finds himself toppling over with him, James falling backwards. He's vaguely grateful James thought to put the cushion down as they land on it in a heap, Sirius finally letting go of the material of James's shirt to brace himself against the dusty floorboards. A grunt is torn from him on impact, the jolt of friction shooting straight up his length and winding all the way up his spine. As James pushes up with his hips, Sirius pushes down. He's not even consciously making the decision to rut against his best fucking friend in the world; he is beyond coherent thought, the warnings that are going off in his head are drowned out by everything else, and the thrill of sensation, the coiled spring of need in him, is all too strong. Sirius has always been impulsive, and always gone with his gut, and right now his gut wants him to do nothing more than rub himself to orgasm. He's beyond the point of straightening up and pulling down his shirt and pretending it never happened, anyway. Sirius buries his face into the crook of James's neck and pumps his hips hard, desperately. He aches to feel skin or hands on him, but no way can he go there. He shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw and lets out strangled-sounding moans through his teeth, and jerks harder against James, their hips grating so much there'll be marks there and they'll likely feel it for days. But they're in no mind to worry about that - Sirius feels James freeze under him and his breath ceases its searing beat against his neck. James chokes out a curse and his body goes rigid. Sirius knows what's happening right then, even as he gives a few last, fierce rotations of his hips, chasing after James. When he gives in to the fall, it steals his breath right out of his lungs. He feels suspended up on the highest edge and he's leaning further and further over and he's being pulled down and he knows it's going to be the most fucking incredible thing he's ever felt, and when his cock jerks and releases the first heady burst of come, he thinks his bones are melting inside his flesh. Wet heat skates up his abdomen, coating his underwear and skin, and he cannot stop thrusting, riding out every pulse of his cock like a reflex until he's unable to move any more. Sirius groans long and low against James's neck, submerged in heady, blissful waves of sensation. He thinks he feels a hand press against his back quickly, before it draws away, though he's not sure. He's not sure of anything yet, except that he just had the most mind-numbing, amazing wank of his life. He doesn't care to ponder too closely exactly what he'd wanked against - not yet, ideally not ever, but he's not stupid - but it'd been light years beyond anything else he's jerked-off with. Oh, hell, what's he going to do now? Sirius swallows hard, his mouth parched, throat a little sore. He wills his limbs to move, his arms to support his weight as he pushes himself up, rolling off James and onto the floorboards. He sees, out of the corners of his eyes, the shadows still revolving around them, only they're slow now, thin and rapidly diminishing. Sirius wonders if he can blame the spell for this mess. He doesn't think so. James clears his throat, coughs, swears. Sirius listens to him as he sits up, his clothes making a faint noise over the wood beneath them. He sits up, too, runs his hand through his wet, sweaty hair, flicking some of the longer strands out of his eyes. His underwear feels gross and sticky. They sit, side by side, and breathe for what feels like an age, in total silence. Sirius stares ahead at the broken four poster bed, waiting, wondering if he should say something first. In the end he doesn't have to - James breaks the thick and pressing silence. "Padfoot... I take back what I said," he croaks, and then gets up onto his feet. Sirius doesn't look up at him, but he waits for James to finish. "Destroy that book." Relief rushes through him and Sirius is finally able to find his own footing. He gets up, dusts himself off a bit, careful not to venture too close to his groin. He'll need a few charms to clean that up before they head back to Hogwarts. For now, though, he says, gruffly, "I'm on it." The Shadowmancer's Codex lies on the floor where Sirius had dropped it. For such a small book, it's awfully heavy, but Sirius realises that he and James don't need - or want - that kind of weight. He picks it up, tosses it into the fireplace. Sirius then draws out his wand, James at his side, the room's shadows only just settling back into place around them. "Incendio." Light flares, the book starts to hiss. Sirius slips his wand back into his pocket, letting his head drop. "Prongs." "To the grave, man," James says quietly, in echo of Sirius's earlier promise in the corridor, when they'd arranged this evening. Sirius nods slowly, his face hot. "Gimme a minute." As he heads out of the room to clean up, he hears James hurriedly muttering similar spells on himself. He cringes, feeling oddly hollow, and not the kind of pleasant hollow he usually feels after getting off, not now the euphoria is wearing down. This is the kind of hollow left when something unspoken is shattered. Once cleaner, pulled together a bit neater, Sirius meets James in the hall. They take the rickety stairs down back to the hidden trap door and into the tunnel. James leads, Sirius follows, neither of them speak. But the moment they hit Hogwarts grounds again, James casts a quick glance over his shoulder. "You know, Gladstone in seventh year's rumoured to be retiring soon. I reckon when that happens, playing 'Claw won't be half as fun." Sirius lets a smile creep onto his mouth and bows his head in silent thanks as he says, "Yeah, where's the fun of Quidditch if you haven't got dirty opponents ready to pummel your head in at every given opportunity?" "Precisely. It'll turn into a pansy sport, you wait." "Ehh, but then, there's always Horrowitz." "Horrowitz, with the-" "Massive tits, yeah. I'm surprised you haven't got them muddled up with Bludgers 'til now." "Haha, well, I dunno about hitting them with a bat, but I wouldn't mind shoving my face into them."
* * *
The hollowness remains, long after, but Sirius knows he will have to deal with it. After all, he has no choice. As easily as shadows chased away by light, the events of the evening are buried beneath the normal, the banter, the familiar territory - school, girls, Moony's transformations, the Animagus secret. The book is never spoken of again, but Sirius often wonders if James has forgotten, or if he's just as good at pretending. He usually reaches the conclusion that yes, James would've managed to erase it - James is a pro at denial. But then every now and then James catches his eyes and there's something darker behind the glasses than there should be, like shadows swimming beneath the surface of his brown irises. But then James cracks a grin and, as if working on a pulley system, Sirius finds himself grinning back.
* * *
The smell of burning leather rises tangy in the air. Black smoke curls up the chimney and out into the darkness. Old, yellowed pages turn amber, then brown at the edges, curling smoothly like petals before charring and crumbling to dust. Unseen within the flames, near the back, probably the most important of all, chapter 36 - entitled 'The Caster's Desire' - burns last of all. It states: 'The full effects of Shadowmancing is immeasurable and depends largely on the caster's desired result, whether conscious or subconscious. In this respect, it is advised the caster knows precisely what they want to happen before performing these spells; otherwise, results may vary drastically and the outcome may be irrevocable. The caster must use their own discretion at all times and never cast during times of great confusion, indecision or vulnerability.' ~Fin~ |
Email | Back to index | Back to Top |