sam_storyteller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-15 08:40 am
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-15 08:40 am
Entry tags:
Harry Potter Shortfic: PG-13 and R
These are rated PG-13 and R. They encompass a wide variety of ships and adult themes including adultery, transgenerational, multiple-partner, and teacher/student relationships. Spoilers through OotP.
PG-13:
Detention
The potions weren't aphrodesiac potions, even.
They were healing salves, advanced in some ways, which was appropriate since it was the final year of NEWTs studies, after all. It must have been the fumes that made Harry's head spin, since it was only when he and Ron were working on their potions, alone in the seventh-year Potions classroom, that he felt this way.
The only time he was alone with Ron, in fact.
"Does this make you dizzy?" Ron asked, bent over the cauldron one evening.
"A little," Harry said.
"It's not supposed to."
"No."
"Do I make you dizzy?"
Harry was quiet.
"Cos I think you do," Ron said. "Make me, I mean."
Snape docked them almost a full letter grade for carelessly spilling their salves. He probably would have tried to have them thrown out of school if he knew it was because Harry was pinning Ron to the workbench, kissing him fiercely while Ron's fingers unbuttoned Harry's shirt...
Letters
"Owl post for you," Sirius said, tossing a handful of letters across the common room. He always managed it without any of them going astray, which Remus (along with most of the Gryffindor boys) admired; he caught them, which he was unaware that a good proportion of the Gryffindor girls were impressed by, and opened the top one.
Sirius watched as Remus blushed, starting from the tips of his ears and spreading down over his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose.
"Interesting letter?" he asked.
"I think I'm going to read my letters in private," Remus answered, running up the stairs to their dormitory. Sirius gave him until the count of sixty before following.
"Did you like my letter?" he asked, sliding his arm around the alread-naked Remus and tossing a locking charm in the general vicinity of the door. Remus moaned, softly.
"You are filthy," he replied.
"I like sending you letters," Sirius said with a grin, and got on with one of the several extremely obscene acts he had just been detailing in a letter to someone...
Instinct to Run
She found him on the stairs, holding a toy in his hands, turning it over and over, idly. She sat down next to him, patient.
"It's Ginny's," Remus said. "Arthur gave it to her. Muggle astronauts went to the moon in a spaceship, you know."
"I always thought it was a little foolish, trying to get all the way to the moon when we ought to be solving a few problems on Earth first," Minerva answered. "But then I guess our first instinct is always to run."
"Mine is," he said.
"Mine too. It's hard to stand and fight."
They sat in silence for a little while.
"You can't stand up, can you," she asked.
"The moon last night. I'm just sore. Another few minutes and I'll be fine. I wanted to take Ginny's rocket back to her, she forgot it in my room when she came up to borrow a book."
She wrapped one arm around his waist and helped him to his feet, surprisingly sturdy. He stumbled and almost fell, but she caught him; the rocketship clattered to the floor.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm awkward around you, you know."
"I know," she answered, and he kissed her impulsively, unbalancing them a second time, and this time only the banister saved them.
"I could take her toy back to her later," he said, against her cheek.
"Let me help you back to your room," she answered. "She'll find it on the stairs. Hard to miss, after all."
Anniversary
"Neville?"
Harry propped himself on his elbows and looked across the room, to where Neville had entered carefully carrying a large tray and a stuffed sack on one shoulder. He'd grown up a bit this past year -- chubby clumsiness had turned to a lean sort of grace, though he was just as forgetful as ever, and still fumbled in Potions.
"What's that?" Harry asked, as Neville set the tray down on the stove in the centre of the room -- which had been turned off in April when the weather grew fine. All the rest of the Gryffindor boys were out at Hogsmeade, but Harry had stayed behind to study plays -- there were going to be Quidditch scouts at the cup this year, and even if he WAS only a sixth year, well, Fred and George hadn't had their NEWTs, and they were doing just fine.
"I brought cake and hats," Neville said calmly.
"Yes, but WHY?" Harry asked, as Neville gave him a spangly top hat to wear. Neville carried the cake to Harry's bed, and sat crosslegged on it.
"Well. I reckon soon enough we'll have another epic battle or something," Neville said, "and it always happens in June. And we both know you're going to beat him -- "
" -- Neville -- "
"And I know it's hard," Neville continued almost wretchedly. "So I thought I'd cheer you up a bit."
Harry looked down at the cake. "Happy Anniversary," he read. "Anniversary of what?"
"Voldemort's defeat."
"But he hasn't been defeated yet!"
Neville looked down. "But he will be. Pre-emptive, sort of thing. And I figure if we celebrate it on June first we have to ALWAYS, and it's easy to remember."
Harry stared at the cake for a while. "You're weird."
"Yeah, I know."
"You're weird like Dumbledore's weird."
Neville beamed. "Thanks."
Harry grinned back. Neville, with the air of someone greatly daring, swiped some of the frosting off the cake and wiped it on the tip of Harry's nose. Harry laughed and tried to lick it off, then gave up --
Just as Neville leaned across the cake and did it for him.
And of course it was the most natural thing in the world to tilt his head a little so that the tongue which still had icing sugar on it was in his mouth.
"I like this anniversary," Harry said.
Taking The Blame
"I know you're there, whoever you are!" Coach's voice echoed in the damp room. Remus crouched behind a bank of lockers, naked, shivering. He could see them from here; coach flushed and angry, Sirius trying to preserve his decency without making any sudden moves.
"Don't think you'll hide!" the coach continued. "I'm giving you one chance to own up!"
Remus, realising that it was futile to hide, began to stand --
And heard footsteps, coming his way.
Lily Evans, head high, shirt missing, skirt unbuttoned, walked past him.
"Me, sir," she said. Sirius looked stunned.
***
"Why'd you do that?" Sirius asked, after coach dismissed them. More than being thrown off the team, more than the rumours, he was concerned about this. "Why did you help me?"
"I didn't do it for you," Lily answered loftily. "I did it for Remus."
Sirius grinned. "You're all right, Evans."
"You owe me," was all she replied. "Don't worry, I'll collect."
Remus, breathless, leapt out at them from around the corner. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His brown eyes were glowing.
"Be good, boys," Lily said, vanishing down a side-hallway.
Invisible
James Potter knew all about being invisible. He had his cloak, of course, but it was also easy to hide behind other things. Things like his glasses, his messy hair, his reputation. In a pinch he could hide behind Sirius, physically.
When Sirius wrapped his arms around James' waist and kissed him, however, James had nowhere to run, and no way to turn invisible. The heat of Sirius' shirtless chest against his, the firm grip of Sirius' hands just above his belt, forbade it.
"You're done hiding," Sirius whispered, mouth against his throat. "Time to come out and play, James."
Crush
Ginny Weasley got over her crush on Harry in her fourth year.
In fifth year, she decided she was over boys as a rule, as they were ridiculously obsessed with stupid things like Quidditch, and she had better ways to spend her time than playing second to a broomstick.
Suddenly, in sixth year, she became the most alluring thing in Hogwarts Castle.
Boys were everywhere, bothering her, but she turned them all down. They brought dumb flowers or gave her chocolate for stupid reasons or agreed with everything she said, no matter how ridiculous.
Harry Potter charmed the quilt on her bed to trap her, so that she couldn't get out the next morning. Harry Potter hexed her hair to stand on end in the hallway. Harry Potter made her laugh at herself, and didn't bother with flowers or chocolate. He just told her he fancied her company, and then kissed her senseless.
They lay one morning, the sun streaming through the windows of the dormitory room, and she knew she'd have to go soon. She smoothed his black hair against his head, smiling.
Ginny Weasley got over her crush on Harry Potter, only to discover that she was in love with him.
Routine
It was a comfortable routine. Whatever else Remus might do, he always found enough for a morning newspaper. He didn't feel whole if he hadn't had the Daily Prophet to read.
Sirius found him napping with the paper over his face, and pulled it back gently. Remus' eyes opened. He smiled sleepily.
"Want the paper?" he asked.
"Nope," Sirius said, and bent to kiss him before he was truly awake. There was a sigh against his lips, and he felt Remus' fingers tangle in his hair. "Want you."
Remus found something much better in the mornings than the Daily Prophet.
Touch
He thought she was asleep, and didn't want to wake her; he just wanted to lean in the doorway and look at her for a while. Funny how people changed. Who'd have thought Ron's scrawny kid sister would grow up into...
Burnished copper hair, long pale arms, a perfect curve to her back, most of which was visible as she lay on the bed. He could see pyjama pants, though she was topless; she lay on her stomach, shoulders rising and falling with her breath.
She turned, and he started back, wanting to hide. Too late; she'd seen him.
She smiled. "I'm sore, Harry. Give us a hand?" she asked, and he moved forward, sitting on the bed, drawing small circles on the skin of her shoulders. She dropped her head, arched a little. He pressed harder, both hands, knuckling into her spine, fingers dancing across the sensitive skin of her lower back. He rubbed her neck with his thumbs, and she sighed happily.
"That's good," she said, and rolled over. Harry stared, blinking, before looking away in a furious blush. Ginny's pale fingers turned his face back.
"Might want to finish the job," she whispered, and pulled him down.
R Rated:
Reason
She was really just a kid. Percy had to keep telling himself that. She was in Ron's year, and Ron was just a kid! They were sixteen, for crying out loud.
She was a scatterbrain. Her whole life was fashion and hairstyles and boys, gossiping with her friends.
She was dishonest. She'd asked him to write three of her last eight compositions.
But Percy had done it, even though he wasn't even in school anymore, because when they met in Hogsmeade she wore that short uniform skirt hemmed up another few inches, and her shirt with three buttons undone.
He wasn't proud of himself, of course, but despite all the reasons he shouldn't be here in on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, pressing up against a tree with Lavender's legs around his hips and her arms around his neck, he was here anyway.
Because she was young, and a scatterbrain, and dishonest, and he liked her.
Homework
Remus Lupin considered things, dipped his quill in the inkpot near the pillow, and drew a line through the last eight words he'd written.
"Moony!"
"Sorry, Sirius. Run-on sentence," he said. "Had to correct it."
"Come on, Moony, please," Sirius begged. Remus smiled, and wrote another few words before finishing with a flourish. Sirius arched his back.
"Ah! Don't move, the ink will run," Remus said, pressing a hand to the small of Sirius' back, below the writing. "One of my better compositions, I think."
"Please Moony please," Sirius whined. Remus smiled, and eased his hips down against Sirius', kissing his neck.
"I told you if you were good while I finished my homework, you'd get a reward," he said, as the ink vanished into Sirius' skin, the aphrodesiac charm taking effect.
Sirius moaned, and gave in. Homework, he decided, had never been this much fun before.
Seekers
Seekers are quick and nimble.
Seekers are the heroes of the Quidditch world. They're famous. They win the games. Sure, team effort, blah blah blah, but come on now, Seekers, once they've seen the Snitch, are the one everyone watches. Forget scoring. It's Seekers.
Harry Potter is the famous Seeker of course, but among true Quidditch aficionados, it's confirmed that Draco Malfoy has more finesse. Harry wins a lot, but he has no real style to him. Draco wins and he looks sexy doing it.
It only makes sense that there'd be a certain amount of rivalry between the two and the sportswriters play it up.
On the other hand, the photograph of Draco Malfoy, pressed up against the wall of a Quidditch stadium locker room with his playing robes open and Harry Potter's tongue in his mouth -- the one where his hands keep sliding up Harry's arms and Harry's hips keep pushing insistently against his -- sold for two thousand Galleons.
Caught
"Harry."
Pause.
"HARRY."
Harry jerked away from the bedpost, giving Remus an unparalleled view of Ginny Weasley, skirt hiked up, jumper rumpled, lips parted in surprise.
Harry blushed furiously.
Remus frowned.
"Nice Gryffindors," he said, as Ginny wriggled and tugged her skirt down, "Don't do that."
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Remus laid a hand on his shoulder, moving him so that he was facing Ginny once more.
"Then again," he whispered in Harry's ear, as his hand slid around Harry's waist to rest on Ginny's, "I've never been very fond of the nice Gryffindors."
Ginny grinned.
The Dance
The game was the fun of it. That was what Sirius had taught him. It wasn't like you didn't know what would happen, after a point, but it was the dance after that point --
Remus smiled at some offhanded comment Tonks made, and sipped his wine. It was good wine. The Black cellars only stocked good wine.
When Sirius woke him for breakfast the next morning, he saw Tonks' touseled pink-hair in the bedclothes, and shook his head.
"It's all in the seduction," Remus said loftily.
"Manwhore," Sirius answered affectionately, and bent to kiss him hungrily, before going down to breakfast.
Nice Gryffindors
Nice Gryffindors don't do this, Remus thought.
Nice Gryffindors don't touch Severus Snape's elbow just a little more than necessary.
Nice Gryffindors don't manufacture excuses to visit his private quarters.
Nice Gryffindors don't buy Slytherins with lovely growling voices a drink.
Nice Gryffindors don't plot to get Severus Snape into bed.
Nice Gryffindors don't touch just there to make him demand more.
Nice Gryffindors definitely don't make Slytherins growl by exploring every inch of pale skin with their tongues...
...then again, if he weren't such a nice Gryffindor, he wouldn't have Severus Snape under him, against him, inside him...
Kept Man
"Minister Snape," said a voice, "There's a Mister Lupin here to see you."
Severus Snape, Minister of Magic for all of nine hours, finished chewing before replying. "Send him up."
"Very good, sir."
He pushed his dinner away, tapping it with his wand to send it to the kitchens, and sat back. Remus let himself into the dim office unobtrusively, as he did everything.
"Congratulations, Severus," he said, warm and honest, typically Gryffindor. "I saw in the paper this morning -- wanted to tell you in person. I spilled my tea when I heard."
Snape smiled, victoriously. Remus drifted a hand over the bust of a former Minister.
"Amazing," he said. "Utterly amazing."
"Don't flatter me," Snape said drily.
"You're a man of power now," Remus said, "A man of control."
Snape sat up straighter, curious. "What makes you say that?"
"Authority carried with dignity is attractive. I don't suppose you'd require my services in any capacity?"
Snape watched him circle the desk. "Are you proposing to be my...assistant, Lupin?"
"No," Remus grinned, settling long legs on either side of Snape's thighs, pulling his head up for a hard kiss. "I'm proposing to be your kept man."
Apple
The thing was, Regulus was beautiful.
Not that Sirius wasn't, but Sirius -- wide shoulders, barrel chest, solid-muscled body....
Remus preferred thin, graceful boys. Regulus was like Sirius, idealised. Besides, Sirius was a mate, and if he'd asked, Sirius probably would have done him, which defeated the point.
Regulus was forbidden and sexy, and he would never have fucked a scholarship boy, let alone a werewolf.
Remus watched from the shadows of the greenhouse, a quiet place most boys went sooner or later, and listened for the tell-tale sounds: a moan, a grunt, a whispered word.
Echoing across the glass paneled walls now, words -- Regulus, secure that he was alone, releasing a high whine of pleasure and a name --
"L - l - Lupin..."
Portrait Of The Artist
Because then you see there was James king James king of the school James, strutting and rightly so, bright redheaded Irish Queen on his arm. And the brownhaired boy stood there so still, like the statues in the hallways and wished one day he could become a statue.
Statues don't change don't hurt don't have to talk to people don't have to push through the so-crowded hallways full of unwashedbodysmell and friedbreakfastodor.
But statues couldn't stand in libraries with drypapersmell and inkonfingers, or follow James King James through the hallways, watching his black hair and his brother Black with black hair like king and prince of the school, and he was just their jester not even that they had a jester. He was just the Grand Vizier, and not very grand at that.
And yet here he was thieflike one night stealing over to the bed of James, James who had stuttered that afternoon in the library about marrying Lily because his parents parents of the king wanted children and Lily was nice and all but James liked OTHER THINGS HOLY CHRIST IN HEAVEN ABOVE and Remus the brownhaired boy sat so still, listening like a statue, getting hard under the table as James said what he liked so sweet from his mouth so kissable.
And King James knew nothing he needed an advisor he needed someone to advise him Remus could advise him with mouth and hands and bare skin body on body. Remus could advise him how to move his tongue against his cock and ease in so slow and
Oh
His
King
and afterwards they lay in bed the brownhaired boy still so still like a statue clung to by a King who was drowning in his own royalty and thought Forever it will be like this Forever and that's okay.
Lessons In Greek
"That was it?"
"Thank you."
"No, I mean, you were splendid, it's just..."
"Just?"
"I expected something more..."
"What more did you want?"
"No, something more. Uh. Painful actually."
"I said I'd never hurt you, Harry."
"Everyone says that. Nobody means it."
"I do. Did you...want it to be...? I'm not really good at that, I'm afraid."
"No, I just..."
"Harry."
"Yes, Remus?"
"This is traditional. I'm the teacher, you're the student. This is downright Greek, what we're doing."
"I know that."
"Then trust your teacher."
"Are you going to teach me more?"
"Oh yes. A lot more, I think."
Siberia
"Siberia?"
"It's where werewolves live." Remus shrugged as he packed; Hermione unfolded one of his jumpers and re-folded it neatly. "I have to go to them. I'm always too warm in the summers anyway, Sirius."
"But it's Si-bloody-beria!"
Remus smiled and placed the jumper in his small suitcase, then lay on the bed, pillowing his head on Sirius' bare stomach.
"What would you suggest to keep me warm?" he asked, as Hermione's arms wrapped around him.
"This," Hermione said, body moving flush against his as Sirius moved down to press against his back, kissing the nape of his neck.
"And that..." Sirius added, grinning.
Self-Defence
Albus Dumbledore knew that Severus Snape was a Legilimens, but he always assumed it was magic picked up from his time with the Death Eaters; for a keen old man, he certainly paid little attention to his students. He'd had no idea there were three unregistered animagi running around the school -- or that there was an unlicenced Legilimens, as well.
James had been about to pin Snivellus to the wall as a welcome-to-seventh-year pounding for making snide remarks about Lupin's robes, but instead he found himself reeling backwards, clutching his head as what felt like his entire life, in mental images, flashed through his head. He managed to stay upright, but only just.
Finally one image burnt itself onto his eyelids, and he gasped. Beyond him, somewhere, Snape laughed at the sight of Sirius Black, naked and writhing and moaning, hips bucking beneath James Potter, in his own memories.
"Touch me again," Snape's voice said, as James straightened, hands clapped over his eyes, "and I'll tell Lily Evans what you do with that slut Black in your spare time. Don't you think I could make her believe me?"
Lily never did find out why James and his pack finally started leaving Severus alone.
Ten Questions
"Your turn to ask."
"How many?"
"Many what?"
"Girls. You've been with."
"Just girls?"
"Merlin, Moony -- "
"You're the one who got me drunk asking questions I wouldn't answer eighteen questions ago. 'A shot for every one you won't answer' you said and now you're recycling questions and I'm not allowed to -- "
"Eighteen? We were playing TEN questions!"
"Well, nobody kept count, did they, Prongs?"
"You clearly did! Both!"
"Both what?"
"Girls and boys!"
"Two and one, preemptively."
"Prewhat?"
"One, but I haven't had him yet."
"Then he's not really one, is he -- ummm. No, do that again -- "
"He is now."
PG-13:
Detention
The potions weren't aphrodesiac potions, even.
They were healing salves, advanced in some ways, which was appropriate since it was the final year of NEWTs studies, after all. It must have been the fumes that made Harry's head spin, since it was only when he and Ron were working on their potions, alone in the seventh-year Potions classroom, that he felt this way.
The only time he was alone with Ron, in fact.
"Does this make you dizzy?" Ron asked, bent over the cauldron one evening.
"A little," Harry said.
"It's not supposed to."
"No."
"Do I make you dizzy?"
Harry was quiet.
"Cos I think you do," Ron said. "Make me, I mean."
Snape docked them almost a full letter grade for carelessly spilling their salves. He probably would have tried to have them thrown out of school if he knew it was because Harry was pinning Ron to the workbench, kissing him fiercely while Ron's fingers unbuttoned Harry's shirt...
Letters
"Owl post for you," Sirius said, tossing a handful of letters across the common room. He always managed it without any of them going astray, which Remus (along with most of the Gryffindor boys) admired; he caught them, which he was unaware that a good proportion of the Gryffindor girls were impressed by, and opened the top one.
Sirius watched as Remus blushed, starting from the tips of his ears and spreading down over his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose.
"Interesting letter?" he asked.
"I think I'm going to read my letters in private," Remus answered, running up the stairs to their dormitory. Sirius gave him until the count of sixty before following.
"Did you like my letter?" he asked, sliding his arm around the alread-naked Remus and tossing a locking charm in the general vicinity of the door. Remus moaned, softly.
"You are filthy," he replied.
"I like sending you letters," Sirius said with a grin, and got on with one of the several extremely obscene acts he had just been detailing in a letter to someone...
Instinct to Run
She found him on the stairs, holding a toy in his hands, turning it over and over, idly. She sat down next to him, patient.
"It's Ginny's," Remus said. "Arthur gave it to her. Muggle astronauts went to the moon in a spaceship, you know."
"I always thought it was a little foolish, trying to get all the way to the moon when we ought to be solving a few problems on Earth first," Minerva answered. "But then I guess our first instinct is always to run."
"Mine is," he said.
"Mine too. It's hard to stand and fight."
They sat in silence for a little while.
"You can't stand up, can you," she asked.
"The moon last night. I'm just sore. Another few minutes and I'll be fine. I wanted to take Ginny's rocket back to her, she forgot it in my room when she came up to borrow a book."
She wrapped one arm around his waist and helped him to his feet, surprisingly sturdy. He stumbled and almost fell, but she caught him; the rocketship clattered to the floor.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm awkward around you, you know."
"I know," she answered, and he kissed her impulsively, unbalancing them a second time, and this time only the banister saved them.
"I could take her toy back to her later," he said, against her cheek.
"Let me help you back to your room," she answered. "She'll find it on the stairs. Hard to miss, after all."
Anniversary
"Neville?"
Harry propped himself on his elbows and looked across the room, to where Neville had entered carefully carrying a large tray and a stuffed sack on one shoulder. He'd grown up a bit this past year -- chubby clumsiness had turned to a lean sort of grace, though he was just as forgetful as ever, and still fumbled in Potions.
"What's that?" Harry asked, as Neville set the tray down on the stove in the centre of the room -- which had been turned off in April when the weather grew fine. All the rest of the Gryffindor boys were out at Hogsmeade, but Harry had stayed behind to study plays -- there were going to be Quidditch scouts at the cup this year, and even if he WAS only a sixth year, well, Fred and George hadn't had their NEWTs, and they were doing just fine.
"I brought cake and hats," Neville said calmly.
"Yes, but WHY?" Harry asked, as Neville gave him a spangly top hat to wear. Neville carried the cake to Harry's bed, and sat crosslegged on it.
"Well. I reckon soon enough we'll have another epic battle or something," Neville said, "and it always happens in June. And we both know you're going to beat him -- "
" -- Neville -- "
"And I know it's hard," Neville continued almost wretchedly. "So I thought I'd cheer you up a bit."
Harry looked down at the cake. "Happy Anniversary," he read. "Anniversary of what?"
"Voldemort's defeat."
"But he hasn't been defeated yet!"
Neville looked down. "But he will be. Pre-emptive, sort of thing. And I figure if we celebrate it on June first we have to ALWAYS, and it's easy to remember."
Harry stared at the cake for a while. "You're weird."
"Yeah, I know."
"You're weird like Dumbledore's weird."
Neville beamed. "Thanks."
Harry grinned back. Neville, with the air of someone greatly daring, swiped some of the frosting off the cake and wiped it on the tip of Harry's nose. Harry laughed and tried to lick it off, then gave up --
Just as Neville leaned across the cake and did it for him.
And of course it was the most natural thing in the world to tilt his head a little so that the tongue which still had icing sugar on it was in his mouth.
"I like this anniversary," Harry said.
Taking The Blame
"I know you're there, whoever you are!" Coach's voice echoed in the damp room. Remus crouched behind a bank of lockers, naked, shivering. He could see them from here; coach flushed and angry, Sirius trying to preserve his decency without making any sudden moves.
"Don't think you'll hide!" the coach continued. "I'm giving you one chance to own up!"
Remus, realising that it was futile to hide, began to stand --
And heard footsteps, coming his way.
Lily Evans, head high, shirt missing, skirt unbuttoned, walked past him.
"Me, sir," she said. Sirius looked stunned.
***
"Why'd you do that?" Sirius asked, after coach dismissed them. More than being thrown off the team, more than the rumours, he was concerned about this. "Why did you help me?"
"I didn't do it for you," Lily answered loftily. "I did it for Remus."
Sirius grinned. "You're all right, Evans."
"You owe me," was all she replied. "Don't worry, I'll collect."
Remus, breathless, leapt out at them from around the corner. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His brown eyes were glowing.
"Be good, boys," Lily said, vanishing down a side-hallway.
Invisible
James Potter knew all about being invisible. He had his cloak, of course, but it was also easy to hide behind other things. Things like his glasses, his messy hair, his reputation. In a pinch he could hide behind Sirius, physically.
When Sirius wrapped his arms around James' waist and kissed him, however, James had nowhere to run, and no way to turn invisible. The heat of Sirius' shirtless chest against his, the firm grip of Sirius' hands just above his belt, forbade it.
"You're done hiding," Sirius whispered, mouth against his throat. "Time to come out and play, James."
Crush
Ginny Weasley got over her crush on Harry in her fourth year.
In fifth year, she decided she was over boys as a rule, as they were ridiculously obsessed with stupid things like Quidditch, and she had better ways to spend her time than playing second to a broomstick.
Suddenly, in sixth year, she became the most alluring thing in Hogwarts Castle.
Boys were everywhere, bothering her, but she turned them all down. They brought dumb flowers or gave her chocolate for stupid reasons or agreed with everything she said, no matter how ridiculous.
Harry Potter charmed the quilt on her bed to trap her, so that she couldn't get out the next morning. Harry Potter hexed her hair to stand on end in the hallway. Harry Potter made her laugh at herself, and didn't bother with flowers or chocolate. He just told her he fancied her company, and then kissed her senseless.
They lay one morning, the sun streaming through the windows of the dormitory room, and she knew she'd have to go soon. She smoothed his black hair against his head, smiling.
Ginny Weasley got over her crush on Harry Potter, only to discover that she was in love with him.
Routine
It was a comfortable routine. Whatever else Remus might do, he always found enough for a morning newspaper. He didn't feel whole if he hadn't had the Daily Prophet to read.
Sirius found him napping with the paper over his face, and pulled it back gently. Remus' eyes opened. He smiled sleepily.
"Want the paper?" he asked.
"Nope," Sirius said, and bent to kiss him before he was truly awake. There was a sigh against his lips, and he felt Remus' fingers tangle in his hair. "Want you."
Remus found something much better in the mornings than the Daily Prophet.
Touch
He thought she was asleep, and didn't want to wake her; he just wanted to lean in the doorway and look at her for a while. Funny how people changed. Who'd have thought Ron's scrawny kid sister would grow up into...
Burnished copper hair, long pale arms, a perfect curve to her back, most of which was visible as she lay on the bed. He could see pyjama pants, though she was topless; she lay on her stomach, shoulders rising and falling with her breath.
She turned, and he started back, wanting to hide. Too late; she'd seen him.
She smiled. "I'm sore, Harry. Give us a hand?" she asked, and he moved forward, sitting on the bed, drawing small circles on the skin of her shoulders. She dropped her head, arched a little. He pressed harder, both hands, knuckling into her spine, fingers dancing across the sensitive skin of her lower back. He rubbed her neck with his thumbs, and she sighed happily.
"That's good," she said, and rolled over. Harry stared, blinking, before looking away in a furious blush. Ginny's pale fingers turned his face back.
"Might want to finish the job," she whispered, and pulled him down.
R Rated:
Reason
She was really just a kid. Percy had to keep telling himself that. She was in Ron's year, and Ron was just a kid! They were sixteen, for crying out loud.
She was a scatterbrain. Her whole life was fashion and hairstyles and boys, gossiping with her friends.
She was dishonest. She'd asked him to write three of her last eight compositions.
But Percy had done it, even though he wasn't even in school anymore, because when they met in Hogsmeade she wore that short uniform skirt hemmed up another few inches, and her shirt with three buttons undone.
He wasn't proud of himself, of course, but despite all the reasons he shouldn't be here in on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, pressing up against a tree with Lavender's legs around his hips and her arms around his neck, he was here anyway.
Because she was young, and a scatterbrain, and dishonest, and he liked her.
Homework
Remus Lupin considered things, dipped his quill in the inkpot near the pillow, and drew a line through the last eight words he'd written.
"Moony!"
"Sorry, Sirius. Run-on sentence," he said. "Had to correct it."
"Come on, Moony, please," Sirius begged. Remus smiled, and wrote another few words before finishing with a flourish. Sirius arched his back.
"Ah! Don't move, the ink will run," Remus said, pressing a hand to the small of Sirius' back, below the writing. "One of my better compositions, I think."
"Please Moony please," Sirius whined. Remus smiled, and eased his hips down against Sirius', kissing his neck.
"I told you if you were good while I finished my homework, you'd get a reward," he said, as the ink vanished into Sirius' skin, the aphrodesiac charm taking effect.
Sirius moaned, and gave in. Homework, he decided, had never been this much fun before.
Seekers
Seekers are quick and nimble.
Seekers are the heroes of the Quidditch world. They're famous. They win the games. Sure, team effort, blah blah blah, but come on now, Seekers, once they've seen the Snitch, are the one everyone watches. Forget scoring. It's Seekers.
Harry Potter is the famous Seeker of course, but among true Quidditch aficionados, it's confirmed that Draco Malfoy has more finesse. Harry wins a lot, but he has no real style to him. Draco wins and he looks sexy doing it.
It only makes sense that there'd be a certain amount of rivalry between the two and the sportswriters play it up.
On the other hand, the photograph of Draco Malfoy, pressed up against the wall of a Quidditch stadium locker room with his playing robes open and Harry Potter's tongue in his mouth -- the one where his hands keep sliding up Harry's arms and Harry's hips keep pushing insistently against his -- sold for two thousand Galleons.
Caught
"Harry."
Pause.
"HARRY."
Harry jerked away from the bedpost, giving Remus an unparalleled view of Ginny Weasley, skirt hiked up, jumper rumpled, lips parted in surprise.
Harry blushed furiously.
Remus frowned.
"Nice Gryffindors," he said, as Ginny wriggled and tugged her skirt down, "Don't do that."
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Remus laid a hand on his shoulder, moving him so that he was facing Ginny once more.
"Then again," he whispered in Harry's ear, as his hand slid around Harry's waist to rest on Ginny's, "I've never been very fond of the nice Gryffindors."
Ginny grinned.
The Dance
The game was the fun of it. That was what Sirius had taught him. It wasn't like you didn't know what would happen, after a point, but it was the dance after that point --
Remus smiled at some offhanded comment Tonks made, and sipped his wine. It was good wine. The Black cellars only stocked good wine.
When Sirius woke him for breakfast the next morning, he saw Tonks' touseled pink-hair in the bedclothes, and shook his head.
"It's all in the seduction," Remus said loftily.
"Manwhore," Sirius answered affectionately, and bent to kiss him hungrily, before going down to breakfast.
Nice Gryffindors
Nice Gryffindors don't do this, Remus thought.
Nice Gryffindors don't touch Severus Snape's elbow just a little more than necessary.
Nice Gryffindors don't manufacture excuses to visit his private quarters.
Nice Gryffindors don't buy Slytherins with lovely growling voices a drink.
Nice Gryffindors don't plot to get Severus Snape into bed.
Nice Gryffindors don't touch just there to make him demand more.
Nice Gryffindors definitely don't make Slytherins growl by exploring every inch of pale skin with their tongues...
...then again, if he weren't such a nice Gryffindor, he wouldn't have Severus Snape under him, against him, inside him...
Kept Man
"Minister Snape," said a voice, "There's a Mister Lupin here to see you."
Severus Snape, Minister of Magic for all of nine hours, finished chewing before replying. "Send him up."
"Very good, sir."
He pushed his dinner away, tapping it with his wand to send it to the kitchens, and sat back. Remus let himself into the dim office unobtrusively, as he did everything.
"Congratulations, Severus," he said, warm and honest, typically Gryffindor. "I saw in the paper this morning -- wanted to tell you in person. I spilled my tea when I heard."
Snape smiled, victoriously. Remus drifted a hand over the bust of a former Minister.
"Amazing," he said. "Utterly amazing."
"Don't flatter me," Snape said drily.
"You're a man of power now," Remus said, "A man of control."
Snape sat up straighter, curious. "What makes you say that?"
"Authority carried with dignity is attractive. I don't suppose you'd require my services in any capacity?"
Snape watched him circle the desk. "Are you proposing to be my...assistant, Lupin?"
"No," Remus grinned, settling long legs on either side of Snape's thighs, pulling his head up for a hard kiss. "I'm proposing to be your kept man."
Apple
The thing was, Regulus was beautiful.
Not that Sirius wasn't, but Sirius -- wide shoulders, barrel chest, solid-muscled body....
Remus preferred thin, graceful boys. Regulus was like Sirius, idealised. Besides, Sirius was a mate, and if he'd asked, Sirius probably would have done him, which defeated the point.
Regulus was forbidden and sexy, and he would never have fucked a scholarship boy, let alone a werewolf.
Remus watched from the shadows of the greenhouse, a quiet place most boys went sooner or later, and listened for the tell-tale sounds: a moan, a grunt, a whispered word.
Echoing across the glass paneled walls now, words -- Regulus, secure that he was alone, releasing a high whine of pleasure and a name --
"L - l - Lupin..."
Portrait Of The Artist
Because then you see there was James king James king of the school James, strutting and rightly so, bright redheaded Irish Queen on his arm. And the brownhaired boy stood there so still, like the statues in the hallways and wished one day he could become a statue.
Statues don't change don't hurt don't have to talk to people don't have to push through the so-crowded hallways full of unwashedbodysmell and friedbreakfastodor.
But statues couldn't stand in libraries with drypapersmell and inkonfingers, or follow James King James through the hallways, watching his black hair and his brother Black with black hair like king and prince of the school, and he was just their jester not even that they had a jester. He was just the Grand Vizier, and not very grand at that.
And yet here he was thieflike one night stealing over to the bed of James, James who had stuttered that afternoon in the library about marrying Lily because his parents parents of the king wanted children and Lily was nice and all but James liked OTHER THINGS HOLY CHRIST IN HEAVEN ABOVE and Remus the brownhaired boy sat so still, listening like a statue, getting hard under the table as James said what he liked so sweet from his mouth so kissable.
And King James knew nothing he needed an advisor he needed someone to advise him Remus could advise him with mouth and hands and bare skin body on body. Remus could advise him how to move his tongue against his cock and ease in so slow and
Oh
His
King
and afterwards they lay in bed the brownhaired boy still so still like a statue clung to by a King who was drowning in his own royalty and thought Forever it will be like this Forever and that's okay.
Lessons In Greek
"That was it?"
"Thank you."
"No, I mean, you were splendid, it's just..."
"Just?"
"I expected something more..."
"What more did you want?"
"No, something more. Uh. Painful actually."
"I said I'd never hurt you, Harry."
"Everyone says that. Nobody means it."
"I do. Did you...want it to be...? I'm not really good at that, I'm afraid."
"No, I just..."
"Harry."
"Yes, Remus?"
"This is traditional. I'm the teacher, you're the student. This is downright Greek, what we're doing."
"I know that."
"Then trust your teacher."
"Are you going to teach me more?"
"Oh yes. A lot more, I think."
Siberia
"Siberia?"
"It's where werewolves live." Remus shrugged as he packed; Hermione unfolded one of his jumpers and re-folded it neatly. "I have to go to them. I'm always too warm in the summers anyway, Sirius."
"But it's Si-bloody-beria!"
Remus smiled and placed the jumper in his small suitcase, then lay on the bed, pillowing his head on Sirius' bare stomach.
"What would you suggest to keep me warm?" he asked, as Hermione's arms wrapped around him.
"This," Hermione said, body moving flush against his as Sirius moved down to press against his back, kissing the nape of his neck.
"And that..." Sirius added, grinning.
Self-Defence
Albus Dumbledore knew that Severus Snape was a Legilimens, but he always assumed it was magic picked up from his time with the Death Eaters; for a keen old man, he certainly paid little attention to his students. He'd had no idea there were three unregistered animagi running around the school -- or that there was an unlicenced Legilimens, as well.
James had been about to pin Snivellus to the wall as a welcome-to-seventh-year pounding for making snide remarks about Lupin's robes, but instead he found himself reeling backwards, clutching his head as what felt like his entire life, in mental images, flashed through his head. He managed to stay upright, but only just.
Finally one image burnt itself onto his eyelids, and he gasped. Beyond him, somewhere, Snape laughed at the sight of Sirius Black, naked and writhing and moaning, hips bucking beneath James Potter, in his own memories.
"Touch me again," Snape's voice said, as James straightened, hands clapped over his eyes, "and I'll tell Lily Evans what you do with that slut Black in your spare time. Don't you think I could make her believe me?"
Lily never did find out why James and his pack finally started leaving Severus alone.
Ten Questions
"Your turn to ask."
"How many?"
"Many what?"
"Girls. You've been with."
"Just girls?"
"Merlin, Moony -- "
"You're the one who got me drunk asking questions I wouldn't answer eighteen questions ago. 'A shot for every one you won't answer' you said and now you're recycling questions and I'm not allowed to -- "
"Eighteen? We were playing TEN questions!"
"Well, nobody kept count, did they, Prongs?"
"You clearly did! Both!"
"Both what?"
"Girls and boys!"
"Two and one, preemptively."
"Prewhat?"
"One, but I haven't had him yet."
"Then he's not really one, is he -- ummm. No, do that again -- "
"He is now."
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