"So," said Sirius, sitting down at the kitchen table.
"So," agreed Harry, catching the bottle of Frouge's Finest that Sirius slid
across the table towards him.
They stared at each other for a moment; Sirius didn't quite know how to begin.
These nights alone with Harry were few and far between, what with the hustle
and bustle of Order members turning up at every given moment of the day,
traipsing around the house like it was Diagon Alley. But tonight it was
peaceful; Remus was in his room, preparing his own batch of Wolfsbane for the
coming transformation after finally growing impatient with Snape's snipping
remarks about the hassle of having to do it for him every month, so Sirius had
seized the opportunity to spend some long-overdue time with his godson. At
last.
"Looking forward to going back to school?" he eventually said, wrinkling his
nose a little.
"Not really. Sort of," Harry said, taking a sip of his beer. "I like seeing my
friends, but I like being here, too. It's... quiet."
Sirius huffed. "A bit too quiet for my liking." He forced himself not to pick
at the paper label on his bottle. If Harry only knew how deathly quiet the old
house was when he wasn't around, when Moony was off working for Dumbledore and
meetings were sparse. He'd certainly regret saying it like it was a good
thing. Everyone knew how frustrating he found it, being stuck here like a
sodding prisoner - and wasn't that ironic - but none of them knew what it felt like, breathing in the same stale air every morning when he woke,
hearing the same screech-whine as the upstairs boiler attempted to kick in
once a day, the house groaning like an old witch complaining of back pains at
the slightest gust of wind outside. And his mother - for fuck's sake - just
knowing that she was there, in the hall, mouth set into an ugly, cruel line
even in sleep... bah! Wench.
Harry cleared his throat.
Sirius inwardly chided himself; he hadn't arranged this evening so he could
sit and brood. He gave Harry a quick smile.
"Part of me wishes I was going back to Hogwarts with you, you know," he
continued. "Hell, I'd probably even enjoy McGonagall's Transfiguration lessons
at this point. Heh, and baiting Snape during Potions." His smile grew wistful.
"Not to mention all the things we could get up to. I'm sure there are still
things about Hogwarts that I've forgotten, things I should show you..."
"Well, I've got the Map," Harry said with a shrug.
"Yeah," said Sirius. "But the Map only has the things the four of us
discovered on it. I'm talking about the things that me and your dad used to
get up to on our own."
Harry raised an eyebrow at that. Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his chair; he
had already warned himself not to go down that road this evening if he could
help it, not with Harry there.
"Tell me some stuff about my dad, then."
Too late now, Sirius realised.
"I want to know more about what you did at school," Harry continued. "All I
ever hear is how you two used to get into trouble. It'd be for research
purposes for me and Ron, of course."
"Ha, man after my own heart," Sirius said, relaxing a little. "Okay, Harry,
what do you want to know? How about the time your dad woke me up in the middle
of the night to sneak down and break into Filch's office?"
"Filch?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "But he... Filch was there when you were at
school?"
"He's been there decades, Harry," Sirius said, but Harry was still frowning.
"Oh come on - I'm not that old!"
"I know that," Harry said, cheeks flushing. He changed the subject quickly.
"So you were trying to get some of your confiscated stuff back, I suppose?"
"Actually no. Filch used to stash his whiskey there. Bottles of the stuff."
Sirius took a drink from his own bottle, momentarily unready for the taste of
weak beer that slid down his throat, instead of the thrilling taste of whiskey
that he'd been fantasising about.
Harry looked impressed. "You mean you and my dad used to get drunk while you
were at Hogwarts?"
Sirius winked. "Rat-arsed, Harry, absolutely rat-arsed. We were fifteen... not
that I condone that sort of thing," he added. "You're not to start at your
age, or you'll end up like Dung."
Harry rolled his eyes. "You're not like Dung." Sirius opened his mouth
to point out that he hadn't had anyone to tell him any different at that age,
but Harry cut him off. "So, how did you get away with it?"
With the conversation heading in this direction, Sirius suddenly found it
difficult sitting still. But if Harry was intent on talking about James there
wasn't much Sirius could do about it. He was just going to have to word it
carefully. Part of him wanted to call Moony downstairs so he could tell the
stories, but Sirius didn't want to give up this chance to talk to Harry alone.
He took a deep breath, masking it with a grin.
"We used that knife I gave you. My uncle Alphard gave me that - chuffing great
it is, opens almost any lock. Me and James broke in and pilfered a bottle of
Filch's finest contraband. Well, Filch probably didn't notice. And even if he
did, he couldn't say anything about it - he wasn't supposed to have alcohol on
the school grounds. We went to an empty storeroom on the fourth floor to drink
it. Somehow we managed to get back to Gryffindor Tower... can't quite
remember, but I think it involved crawling and laughing a lot. I might have
even fallen down some stairs at one point... I woke up with a nasty bruise on
my back the next day."
God, that had been fun. Though, if Harry knew the half of it... well, he'd
probably never speak to Sirius again.
"Right," Harry said, sitting forward in his seat with amused interest. After a
while his expression sank. "Is that it?"
Sirius looked away, nodding. He quickly took another deep swig from his
bottle.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Siriu- Padfoot. Oy!"
"Mm... Virginia? Oh, yeah... do that again..."
"Tosser, stop faking," James whispered with a grin, poking the lump that
occupied the bed next to his. "Get up, I have a plan."
Sirius's face emerged from the blankets. "Plan you say?"
"Shh." James held up his Cloak. He glanced at Remus and Peter's beds, dark-red
drapes pulled tightly around both, then shook his head.
"Oh, right," whispered Sirius, sliding out of bed, pyjama bottoms and T-shirt
creased wildly. "A proper secret plan."
James nodded, unfolding the Invisibility Cloak. "Get your knife."
"You know how much I enjoy your proper secret plans, Prongs," Sirius
said with a laugh, going to his school trunk.
"What? That's a good Animagus nickname... considering," James said. "Anyway,
what else am I going to be called - stag boy?"
Sirius snorted. "We won't be called anything if we don't get the damn
transformation right soon." He glanced up at Remus's darkened bed, before
pulling out the knife his uncle had given him on the sly at Christmas the year
before. "Got it."
James slung the Cloak over them both with a soft swish, curling his arm around
Sirius's back.
"Come on, then."
They'd had five years to perfect the art of manoeuvring around under the Cloak
without worrying about stumbling over each other. Moving as quickly and
quietly as they could, Sirius and James made their way downstairs, heading
towards the second floor. And, more importantly, towards Filch's office.
"Virginia?" James said, as they reached the landing.
"I wondered when you were going to bring that up."
They quickly stepped onto the nearest staircase as it rumbled, then started to
swing lazily across the stairwell, transporting them to a lower level.
"You could have at least picked someone who went to Hogwarts, you know - to
make it more believable," James said.
"Aren't there any Virginia's here?" said Sirius with a frown. "I thought there
was a Virginia in the seventh year... Ravenclaw?"
"Don't think so."
Sirius 'hmph'ed, then stopped suddenly as they rounded into a corridor,
catching hold of James's arm.
"What?" James whispered, looking around from under the thin material of the
surrounding Cloak.
"Shh." Sirius pulled James towards the nearest wall. "Quick, over here." It
was a tactic they were well accustomed to after many an almost-run-in with
various night-patrolling staff members.
"What did you hear?" James said, looking about.
"Nothing," Sirius whispered.
James paused, blinked, then pushed Sirius against the wall. "You dickhead."
Sirius was laughing quietly now, trying to catch hold of James's hands.
But James was having none of it; he pushed his body against Sirius's to still
him, planting his hands at either side of Sirius's shoulders. "Christ, how
long have you been hard?"
Sirius rotated his hips a little. "Since you woke me."
James thrust against him, rubbing their cocks together. "Yeah? Me too."
"Oh... oh, this is good. Touch me."
James had his pyjama bottoms down with one quick tug, his other hand, warm and
sweaty, around Sirius's cock before Sirius could draw a breath. Sirius pushed
his hips back and forth, biting James's lips as they pressed against his own,
"Fuck..." as he returned the favour, marvelling at the feel of James's
erection, hot and heavy in his palm.
"James..." and oh, how his name rolled out like it was the last thing Sirius
would ever say - he would have been embarrassed had he not been so close to
coming already. He arched, his head striking the wall behind him as James
moved in for another kiss, and all he could do was moan and tongue-thrust,
tasting James in his mouth, all familiar and just James. He stroked in time to
Sirius's panting breaths, faster, faster, faster until Sirius thought his legs
would give, harder, harder, harder until Sirius was about ready to pass out
from it, oh, the perfection of James's hand around his moist, aching shaft,
pulling him so quickly towards completion that Sirius was coming before he had
the chance to realise it, spurting fast and hard against James's palm with a
moan. The wall seemed to ripple beneath his back as if it was striving to hold
him up.
"Dear God, that was-"
James caught his mouth again before he could say anything else. Sirius kissed
back, cock still moving through those heady last moments of orgasm - and oh God that felt good - James pressed up against him, all warm and solid and
right as Sirius spiralled back down to earth, panting softly.
James moaned against his lips.
"Sorry." Sirius rubbed his thumb across the head of James's prick, drawing a
low keening sound from his best friend's throat that made him want to eat him
alive. He curled his free arm around James's hips to hold him still as he
bucked forwards, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in, then
out, and in, and out. James let out a little breathless laugh as he came;
Sirius felt it thrumming against his chest, as wet heat beat into his hand
suddenly.
"Pad-foot, ohh..."
Sirius licked James's lips, sliding his slippery hand over James's length
throughout, wondering if James felt half as good as he did.
Once they were both still and quiet, they leaned bonelessly against each
other, nothing but slack, sweaty limbs and pounding heartbeats.
Sirius smiled to himself. He fucking loved doing that. Especially in
risky places. It made walking the halls in between classes all the more
interesting, for sure. The odd glance at a wall, or statue, or sometimes the
very flagstones that they trod during the daytime, and he would be smiling
like an idiot, James grinning next to him as they passed by through the swarm
of their fellow students.
"Didn't mean to lose it so quickly," James said, straightening up. "It's kind
of difficult under the Cloak though - you know, close like that."
"Mm," Sirius agreed, kissing James's jaw quickly. He pulled back to re-tie his
pyjamas. "Was that your plan? If it was, it was a fucking brilliant plan. You
should have more of those, Prongs."
James smiled. "Nope, that wasn't it. Let's call that an added perk of the
plan."
"So what are we doing?"
"Filch's office," James said.
"And why would we want to go there when we could be up in the dorm in your
bed? Or mine?" Sirius ran his fingers up under James's T-shirt, stroking his
stomach with a smirk.
"Because there's no Firewhiskey up in the dorm," James replied, leaning into
the touch with a compulsive shiver.
Sirius's eyes lit up at that. "Nice," he said. "Now I understand why you
wanted me to bring my knife."
* * * * * * * * * *
"So how does the knife work?" Harry asked, unable to bear the heavy silence
any longer, nor the distant look on Sirius's face - like he was somewhere else
altogether.
Sirius snapped out of his stupor, blinking, a red tinge to his cheeks. Of
course, he was at home with Harry, talking - oh shit, he hadn't just said any
of that out loud, had he?
"Huh?" Sirius said. "Sorry?"
"The knife you gave me. How do I use it?"
"Oh, the knife." Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was thankful
for the table at that moment, as it served to block Harry's view of his raging
erection. He tried to will it away, and vowed not to think about James any
more that evening - especially not with his son sitting only a couple of feet
away. "The knife- oh, you just slide it down the latch, and the lock will pop
open. Simple." He took a much deeper drink from his bottle. "Damn, wish I had
something stronger in the house."
"You okay?" Harry said.
"Oh yeah, 'course. You?"
Harry nodded, smiling. Sirius's stomach twisted, as it always did when Harry
smiled like that.
"Sirius?"
"Mm?"
"When you and my dad- I mean, after Snape went to the Shrieking Shack, how
were things between you?"
Sirius knew it would be brought up eventually, but he had hoped it wouldn't be
this evening. He wondered if excusing himself now would look a bit staged.
Though, he'd agreed to tell Harry about him and James while they were at
school, so. And Harry... Harry, Harry, Harry - how often were they going to
get the chance to sit and talk like this?
"Oh, things were pretty bad for a while after that." Sirius felt awkward
already, and he hadn't even begun to explain. He didn't really want to have to
re-live those awful days that followed. Those days when Remus, James and Peter
had refused to look at him. He was so sure they'd never have anything to do
with him again. But he had learned through error that that wasn't like them -
that it wasn't how they worked. His chest swelled at the thought. Though
rebuilding things with Moony had taken a long time, they'd got there,
eventually.
But James... he'd known from the start that Sirius hadn't intended the prank
to go so far. Well, truthfully, Sirius certainly hadn't wanted Snape dead, no
matter how many times he'd joked about it. He wasn't a killer.
He looked up, to find Harry regarding him patiently.
"Sorry, Harry."
"You don't' have to tell me."
"No, no." Sirius held up his hand. "It's fine. I don't mind - your father and
I remained friends after all." He sat back, folding his arms across his chest,
relaxing a little, and almost smiled when Harry mirrored him. "Well, obviously
things were a bit strained afterwards. I mean, Moony wouldn't so much as look
at me, which was understandable, I guess. Peter... Peter had a tendency to go
with the flow. I think he figured that as long as James would let him, he'd
tag along with him." Sirius glanced up at Harry, unprepared for the sad look
on his face. "But your dad, he was the first one who came to talk to me. It
was pushing the end of the sixth year, too - I almost thought it wasn't going
to happen and I'd have to go back to my flat alone all summer."
* * * * * * * * * *
A shadow fell across the broomshed floor. Sirius turned, about to tell Chance
to piss off. He had been packing away the spare Quidditch gear for the last
fifteen minutes - he didn't need a sodding minder. But it wasn't Chance who
was standing in the doorway. Sirius's throat seized a little; he froze, not
sure of what to do with himself. He settled for shoving his hands in his
pockets.
"Hi."
"Hi," James said quietly.
Sirius couldn't look at him; he lowered his gaze to the floor, waiting for
James to say something awful. It had been over a week since that night with
Snape and the Shack. This had to be it; James had come to tell him they
couldn't be friends any more, or he'd never forgive him, tell him he was an
idiot -and that no, he wasn't joking this time - and maybe tell him he hated
him, that it was over, and for Sirius to stay away from him-
"Why are you packing the spare Snitches away?"
"Part of my detention," Sirius mumbled, voice not as steady as he'd hoped.
"Oh." James wandered in a little way, putting his hands in his pockets too. "Padfoot-"
"Don't. Wait," Sirius said, not wanting to even begin the conversation if it
was going to be their last. He felt lost.
"No, listen," James chided softly. "I know you didn't mean for things to get
so fucked up. I know that."
Sirius wasn't sure if he'd heard him properly. But then James was standing so
close. Sirius could feel him, or at least the presence of him, the heat of
him. Oh... then he felt James's fingers on his face, brushing his hair away
from his eyes, tilting his head up. His expression was calm, but his usually
mild brown eyes were slightly wider than normal, a hint of questioning in
them. He sighed.
"You great fool, thinking I wouldn't want to be friends anymore." James pulled
Sirius against him.
Sirius dared not move for a split second, but then he felt James kiss his
neck. He let out a heavy sigh. "Oh fuck, I'm so sorry," he said. "I did think
that. I'm really, really sorry."
"Yeah, I know you are." James took his wand out of his pocket, aiming it at
the shed door. "Colloportus." The door banged shut, latch clicking
firmly into place. He looked at Sirius earnestly. "Just give Moony some time,
Sirius. He needs some time, but it'll be okay."
"Yeah, I know. I think I've known that all along. I just hate things being up
in the air like this. It's not right." Sirius forced himself to calm down and
meet James's eyes. "It's like I've torn something that can't be mended- fuck,
listen to me. I sound like some kind of girl."
James's lips quirked. "Can we-?" he said, pulling at the hem of Sirius's
shirt.
"God, yeah," Sirius breathed, leaning forwards to kiss him. He bit James's
lips gently because he tasted so good and he knew James liked that. He'd gone
without that taste for too damn long. He marvelled, now, at how much he'd
missed it - just kissing James like this, being pressed up against him,
feeling James's hands as they smoothed down his back to his arse, James's
erection as it nudged against his own, like it was the way things had to be.
"We're okay," James whispered against Sirius's mouth.
And oh, Sirius didn't want to think about the coming year - their last year -
because that meant the end of their agreement; that they would revert to
friends after school, what with the rise of Voldemort, the dangers that looked
set in the future, and the pressure from James's overly-worried parents to
find a girlfriend and settle down before it was too late. Everything was
suddenly about doing things before it was too late, like some kind of manic
fever had fallen upon the Wizarding World.
It wasn't like there wasn't any pressure on Sirius, too. He'd entertained the
notion of finding himself a female partner a couple of times. Though, up until
now it had seemed like such a trivial thing, something he could put off
because the future was years away. But in reality it wasn't any more, and he
knew there wasn't much time left. It really was a smothering thought, all this
rushing.
He and James would just have to wean themselves off each other gradually from
now on. No big deal.
Just not today.
"Padfoot?"
"Mm?"
"Next year..."
How did James always know what he was thinking? "Don't say it," he said
quickly, reaching up to unbutton James's shirt. "I fucking know-" He took a
calming breath, counting to five in his head. "I know, all right? Just... ask
her out. Ask her out tomorrow."
"Padfoot, I can't help it," said James, brushing Sirius's hands away to undo
the buttons himself. "Everyone's keeping on at me to... and Lily, she's being
all-"
"Shut up," Sirius said with lack of ire. "It's what's right. Like you said,
we're okay. As long as you don't hate me, we'll be okay." He didn't want to
talk about Evans. Not now.
James didn't protest. And although Sirius knew it was what they had agreed,
that silence still stung him.
"All right."
"Good."
Neither moved nor breathed for a moment. Sirius noticed that James had his
fists clenched at his sides; he was staring off at the shed wall past Sirius's
shoulder.
"Prongs," Sirius said, but then stopped. Why was this so fucking difficult?
They weren't breaking up. There wasn't really anything to break up - they'd
always been friends. Friends who saw to each other's needs, that was all.
Sirius swallowed his discomfort, deciding that to save a lot more angst the
best thing was to just get down to it. "I think we should kiss again, before
we both talk ourselves out of it."
James stared at him.
Sirius waited for a smile, but it didn't come. Instead, James suddenly
launched forward and kissed Sirius hard. Sirius fell back against the
broomshed wall from the sheer force of it, James landing against him with a
desperate sounding "Mmph!"
Everything Sirius had been thinking crumbled in an instant, all solid thoughts
blowing away in wisps of their former selves until he wasn't sure why he felt
so sad. And he was glad for it, kissing back at a heated pace until all that
was left was hot tongue and fast breath and more buttons popping open.
It was difficult undressing without breaking contact, but soon there was bare
skin sliding under Sirius's fingertips as he pushed James's shirt over his
shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
"Slow down," James said, breaking away. "I want to do this right."
"What?"
"This..." James snaked his hand down the front of Sirius's trousers, rubbing
firmly against his rigid cock. "I want you inside me."
"For real?" Sirius moaned, pulling back. "But-"
"I think it's time. If tomorrow means..."
"Oh." A moment's pause. "I want to."
"Yeah. Then let's."
"All right, but you'll have to remove your hand if you expect me to be in any
fit state."
James didn't laugh, only pulled his hand out and popped the top button of
Sirius's trousers open, then drew the zip down. He lowered his eyes, freeing
Sirius's cock, lip drawn back behind his teeth. Sirius watched him, oddly
detached from the sensation for a moment, realising that this was really it;
James stroked him slowly, sliding his thumb across Sirius's cockhead, and then
even that thought evaporated.
"Uhh... stop that, or I won't last." Sirius pushed James back so that he could
take off his shoes and socks, sliding his trousers and boxers down after.
James did the same, silently, then pulled his wand out.
"I know a spell..." He took Sirius's hand, turned it palm up and muttered
under his breath.
Sirius felt a cold gel-like substance seep into his hand. "Prongs... oh, you
should have said."
"No worries," James said. "I didn't say anything because I didn't want to rush
it. But I'm ready now." He flushed slightly. "I want to have sex with you."
Any other time, after such a proclamation, they probably would have ended up
laughing and jibing each other. But this was for real. Even more real when
James spread his cloak over the floorboards, laying Sirius's cloak down on top
of it for extra comfort.
"Come down here," James said quietly, spreading himself out on the floor.
Sirius got to his knees, hesitated, then lay down beside him. His prick
throbbed from the anticipation as he slicked it with the lubricant now warmed
from his palm. It felt good. James watched, stroking himself with half-lidded
eyes. He looked up, kissed Sirius on the shoulder quickly, then turned over,
rising up onto his knees beside him.
"Want you."
Fuck, now this is too real, Sirius thought. He squeezed his fist, the
balm spreading wetly over his fingers.
James's body was almost as familiar to Sirius as his own, his gorgeous back
breaking out in tiny shining droplets of sweat, arse curving so smoothly.
Sirius ran his tongue down James's spine, spooning up behind him so he could
brush his erection against the back of James's thigh. Part of him desperately
wanted to just keep doing that - licking and rutting against James, but
another part of him wanted to fuck James so bad - he'd been daydreaming about
this moment for years. He ran one finger across James's entrance, want flaring
when James shivered softly at the touch.
"That's so good..."
"Yeah?" Sirius rubbed again, slowly coaxing a finger in, to which James
moaned, pushing backwards.
Sirius didn't know what it would be like; he hadn't expected it to be so
tight, so hot, and it made his cock swell heavily between his legs, hips
moving now, in time to his finger as he thrust slowly, rhythmically, loosening
the tension out of James's body.
James, James, James Potter.
Sirius closed his eyes, another finger joining the first, then after a while a
third, with a little more difficulty.
"Padfoot," James said. "Could you just... just..."
Sirius withdrew, then pushed the head of his cock against James's arse, and,
fuckingGod, started to slide in, sliding further, further, in and in, and
James arched his spine at the right moment; Sirius bit his lip, trying to move
slowly. James was made of pure fire, he had to be fire, he was so hot, so
tight. Sirius rocked, leaning over and planting his hands against the floor
next to James's sides. He kissed James's neck, shoulders, back - whatever he
could reach - and rocked, and rocked, cock burning with the need to move
faster, but he kept up his steady pace, listening to James mutter obscenities
that sent his mind reeling and it was the. Fucking. Best. Thing. Ever. Doing
this. He thrust harder, breath seized in his throat, and James, James, James
was moving with him, moaning long and loud and pained and "Sirius..." which
was the end for Sirius, who came harder than he ever thought possible, the
world and James blinking out for a split second as it rolled through him, wave
after wave after wave of come.
He slipped out gently, trying to find breath enough to speak. Eventually
Sirius settled for turning James over onto his back, then taking his flushed,
leaking cock into his mouth. The pressing twitch of it against his tongue was
so good, the familiar taste and swell of it, oh, he wanted to scream.
He ran his lips down James's length, moaning around him, tonguing the
underside; James thrust up with a cry.
"JesusChristSirius!"
And James was coming then, in bursts, and Sirius could only hold on and close
his eyes and take it all. Want, want, want it.
He licked James's cock after, once, then lifted his head, staring at James's
flushed mouth as it formed words he couldn't quite catch. Though Sirius knew
they were important. So, so important.
* * * * * * * * * *
Harry's mouth was moving, forming words Sirius only caught moments later. He
snapped out of it, tearing his eyes away from Harry's lips quickly.
"... good that you could just shake hands and everything was all right. So,
when did you and Remus make up?"
Sirius cleared his throat. So. He'd lied and told Harry that James and him had
shaken hands? He couldn't even remember saying it. He felt so utterly
shameless then, lowering his eyes, afraid Harry might see the truth, or
suspect something wasn't quite right with his explanation.
Still, even now after all that had happened and all the years that had
trundled past, whenever he allowed himself to think about that day, Sirius
could almost taste James, he remembered it so clearly. Feelings he hadn't been
aware even existed would flare up, and he'd find himself short of breath and
aching. That's why he strove to not dwell on the past. It was something he'd
found hard in Azkaban, yes, but he hadn't dreamed of how hard it would be now
with Harry nearby.
Harry, Harry, Harry Potter.
Sirius would touch him sometimes, so subtly that Harry wouldn't even notice
it. The odd brush of a shoulder while passing each other to and from the
bathroom in the morning, the odd lick of finger against finger as Sirius would
hand Harry a drink, or a quill, or anything he could find to hand him.
In truth, being around Harry had always been difficult, but now with him
growing up so fast, practically a man, looking more and more like James
everyday (his mouth, his mouth, his mouth), it was getting worse. Sirius had
masked it like a pro, but it was so much more difficult given the current
conversation. He went to take another drink of his beer, but he found his
bottle empty, so instead he swallowed dry air.
Forcefully snubbing his thoughts because it wasn't the time or the place, and
it certainly wasn't doing anything to quell his relentless erection, he
cleared his throat.
"Uh, Remus and me patched things up shortly after that. I think he knew all
along that I hadn't meant it to get so out of hand." He couldn't quite look at
Harry, so he turned and threw his bottle towards the bin. It went in with a
sharp 'clink'.
"Well, it's getting late. I think it's about time you got to bed."
"Okay," Harry said, sounding a little disappointed. "Sirius?"
"Yeah?"
"I didn't- I mean, I'm sorry if that was... you know, difficult or something."
"Na, Harry, it's fine." Though it really wasn't fine. Sirius would have to
wait until Harry had left before even thinking about getting up from the
table. And that was definitely not fine.
"Night then," Harry said, rising.
"Yeah, sleep well," Sirius replied quietly, watching Harry go.
He let out the sigh that had been building all evening, slowly going upstairs
as soon as he heard Harry's bedroom door close. Fuck. He slipped out of his
trousers and shirt, sliding into his cold bed. After holding back for as long
as he could stand it, Sirius reached down and fisted himself hard, and though
he found very little pleasure in it, he moaned his frustrated release into his
pillows as quietly as he could moments later.
But he didn't bother with a Cleaning Charm this time.
He felt dirty enough as it was.
* * * * * * * * * *
Harry knew he was going to miss Grimmauld Place, in a strange, unbelievable
way. He'd miss having a room to himself, even if it did smell a bit like
mothballs. And he'd definitely miss living with Sirius. Miss the way Sirius
smiled at him, and those accidental touches they shared now and then, which,
truthfully, weren't all that accidental on Harry's part. Not when it was so
easy to brush past Sirius on the way to the fridge in the morning, while
Sirius would be standing at the stove cooking breakfast.
And then there was that odd look, or, that look, as Harry liked to
think of it, where Sirius would stare at him when he was speaking like he was
the centre of the universe, those dark grey eyes dropping down to linger on
Harry's mouth every so often, then back up quickly, as if nothing had
happened. He would no longer feel that burn of arousal in his stomach, his
groin, when he was looked at like that - like Sirius wanted to eat him alive.
He buried his face into the pillow, feeling awful, disgusted with himself
because these thoughts made him so desperately hard it almost hurt. Guilty for
having these thoughts about his godfather, no less. About the man who had been
best friends with his father. Sirius and James. Not Sirius and Harry - Sirius
and James.
But that look Sirius had got while he was speaking this evening nagged
Harry, and he found himself unable to sleep. The thing that bothered him was
the strange drop in Sirius's voice, like he had been really lost in his
memories and hadn't wanted to return.
But no, that was ridiculous. He was reading too much into the way Sirius had
spoken about his dad. They'd just been friends.
And that, Harry realised with a heavy heart, was probably all he and Sirius
would ever be, too.
"Nox," he whispered, one hand sliding down past the waistband of his pyjama
bottoms with guilty reluctance, as the room fell into darkness.
~Fin~
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