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sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-07 01:11 pm
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-07 01:11 pm
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Laocoon's Children, Year III, Ch. 26
This chapter is made up of 80% porn and 20% people arguing. Don't say you weren't warned.
***
When Sirius didn't return by sunset, Remus gave up trying to work for the day and went into the kitchen, rummaging in the pantry and cold-cupboard for something to eat. Nothing looked particularly appetising, and he considered floo'ing the Three Broomsticks and asking after Sirius just to soothe his nerves so that he could settle down and eat something.
He had just about resolved to do it when he heard Sirius outside, knocking the mud off his boots on the small cast-iron guards by the door. He waited in the kitchen, listening to the door open and close and Sirius' keys clatter on the foyer table.
"Moony?" Sirius called.
"Kitchen!" Remus replied. "Just trying to sort out dinner."
"Don't bother," Sirius said gruffly, appearing in the doorway. He had a large, grease-stained paper bag in one hand. "Brought some with me. Got that curry you like from the place near Zonko's."
"That was nice," Remus said warily, accepting the bag and unpacking it. Awkward silence was so much worse when there hadn't been any in years, he reflected. Sirius shoved his hands in his pockets and watched as he unpacked the various containers and began piling food on two plates.
"I don't want to talk about it," Sirius said, startling him. He paused in the act of licking some curry sauce from his thumb.
"I surmised," he answered blandly.
"But I want you to know that I don't want to talk about it. So that we're not snapping at each other all night."
"I didn't snap," Remus retorted, stung.
"I suppose I'm the only one being irrational, then?"
"Sirius -- "
"Don't say it that way. You're the one who insisted on talking about Sandust."
Remus rested both hands on the kitchen counter, bowing his head patiently. After a minute, he picked up one plate and offered it to Sirius.
"I wasn't trying to make you talk about Sandust," he said, carrying his own plate to the table. "But now I sort of think you should, if this is the way you react to me mentioning the name."
"No."
"Yes, you've made that clear." He sat and began picking at the food with a fork. "Thank you for dinner."
"You're welcome." Sirius stabbed his kebab with a fork, yanking the meat off the skewer. Awkward silence unrolled again.
"I still think it might be a good idea, finding something to do," Remus ventured hesitantly. "Like when you give tours in the summer in Betwys Beddau."
"Maybe," Sirius grunted, the implication clear: not bloody likely.
"Anyway," Remus said, "We've only got about another month and a half before exams. Be nice to be back in Betwys Beddau."
"Sure," Sirius said. Remus sighed inwardly, looking forward to a long, uncomfortable evening.
After dinner, Sirius apparently decided that Padfoot was the best silent treatment he could give. Remus spent the evening trying to read while Padfoot snoozed on the sofa and did some arcane inspection of the house, snuffling along the baseboards and inspecting each stair as he climbed it. Finally, Remus set his book down.
"All right," he said. "I'm going to bed. Are you coming?"
Padfoot yelped once and followed him up the stairs to the bedroom, arranging himself on the blankets once Remus had settled in. He glared a little balefully as Remus rolled over, unsettling him from his position at the foot of the bed, but he didn't try to make any noise or hog the blankets, which Remus supposed was something.
***
Remus awoke to the sensation of Sirius kissing him -- not Padfoot's doggy kisses, which were sort of disgusting and anyway rarely bestowed, but Sirius' lips on his throat and shoulder, Sirius nuzzling his skin.
"Whass wrong?" he asked sleepily, trying to get his eyes open.
"Nothing," Sirius muttered. "Want to talk to you."
"Mmh? What time is it?"
"About three."
Remus groaned. "You're lucky it's a Sunday, or I'd smack you on the nose and go back to sleep."
Sirius nipped his throat. More fully awake now, he could feel an arm draped over his chest, hand curled to stroke his other shoulder lightly.
"Make-up sex?" Sirius asked hopefully. Remus wriggled closer, brushing his lips over Sirius' forehead.
"Are we skipping the part where we say sorry?" he asked.
"No," Sirius said, resting his head on Remus' shoulder. "I just need to tell you some stuff."
"Well, I'm all attention. Have you come to your senses?"
Sirius growled. "I was in my senses before!"
"Okay, okay. Don't stop that," Remus said, and Sirius kissed his jawline.
"Everyone says," he said, working his way up to Remus' ear and biting his earlobe gently, "that you shouldn't go to bed angry. So, first apology. I'm sorry I went to bed angry."
"Accepted," Remus replied. "Me too."
Sirius slid his hand down from shoulder to stomach, fingers warm and sure. Remus felt he shouldn't enjoy it as much as he did; felt it was somehow a remnant of a more canine personality, enjoying having his belly rubbed. Sirius knew it, which was why he was using it, of course. Sirius knew how to get right through every defence Remus had, which was a little disconcerting sometimes.
But it felt so good he also didn't care.
"And I'm sorry I snapped at you," Sirius continued.
"Also accepted," Remus mumbled, arching his back a little. Sirius kissed his temple, cheeks, the corner of his mouth. "Don't stop doing that."
"Won't," Sirius assured him, hooking a thumb in his pyjamas and pulling them down. "You know how much I loved the bookshop."
"Yes..."
"And it's only..." Sirius paused to press his face to Remus' throat again. "If I didn't have the bookshop I wouldn't have you or Harry."
"Yes!" Remus said, feeling oddly triumphant and forgetting for a moment that Sirius' fingers were sliding along the ridge of one hip-bone. He pushed himself up on his elbows, dislodging Sirius slightly, and looked down at him. "That is exactly what I said this afternoon after you left! Only I forgot the part about me."
Sirius looked up at him reproachfully. "I'm trying to make out with you," he said.
"Sorry." Remus settled down again, turning to face him. He kissed him on the mouth, something Sirius had still been inching towards. "Can I ask...?"
"Mm," Sirius replied, which Remus took as permission.
"Were you afraid if you opened another shop, it'd burn down too?"
Sirius raised his head and looked at him for a long time, an almost curious look. Remus reached out with one hand and stroked his disordered hair, cupping his cheek.
"No," Sirius said. "That...no. Don't you see?"
"See what, love?" Remus asked. "I saw a man mourning for something he'd lost. Isn't that what it was?"
"Those seven years at Sandust...I loved it so much. It was...quiet, and you were there for a lot of it, and..." Sirius made a vague gesture. "But it was all a lie."
Remus tensed. Sirius put a calming hand back on his chest, rubbing slowly.
"That rat was living in our rafters, listening to us. And that's like...a metaphor, almost. All I did at Sandust was lie to myself," Sirius whispered, and there was real fear and pain on his face, something he didn't often reveal. Remus covered his hand with one of his own.
"You did what you thought was right, to protect Harry," he said.
"Did I? The whole time -- some of the lies were so old and ingrained." Sirius pulled his hand away and Remus could almost feel the tension crackling between them now. If he stepped wrong, this might go very, very badly; but he wasn't sure what Sirius was saying. He took his time, though he wasn't sure the end result was worth the consideration he was giving it.
"Tell me," he said.
Sirius bit his lip, looking like he might weep, which was even more upsetting than being snapped at. Remus rolled and gathered him in his arms, holding his head against his shoulder.
"I thought I was protecting Harry," Sirius said, voice low and uncertain. "But that wasn't so, was it? I let them treat him terribly, like some kind of animal -- for years."
"You didn't know. We didn't know."
"We knew it was wrong. We had eyes to see with, see him wearing hand-me-downs and being shouted at by the Dursley boy."
"That's my guilt too, though. And we fixed it, Sirius. Harry's a beautiful child. He loves us and he has friends, he's as close to normal as anyone could be in his situation."
Sirius was still tense, still holding himself together through sheer physical muscle. "That's not all."
"Tell me," Remus repeated, feeling Sirius' arms creep around his waist, holding him there in case he let go. Poor Sirius; still insecure. Remus couldn't have let go for his own life.
"I lied to myself about you, too," Sirius mumbled. "I lied about what you were going through those first few years -- "
"We've had done with that. That's not something to forgive, Sirius. You helped me when I didn't even want help." Remus kissed the crown of his head. If Sirius still cared that he'd nearly starved before coming to Sandust, then he'd carried that burden of guilt years after Remus had all but forgotten it.
"I lied about what I felt for you," Sirius said, and there was the crux of it; his voice broke. "I lied about who I was. I left you alone because if you'd been there the lie wouldn't have stood, and then when you came to Sandust I had to face that. All the women, I...suppose I lied to them too. I thought that was what men did, young men, I thought...they would give me some kind of answer if I kept at it long enough."
"Sirius, I don't understand," Remus whispered.
"All the time I kept Sandust, up until nearly the end, I thought I was Sirius Black, this -- I don't know, some kind of Famous Bachelor like they say in the papers, and my best friend on earth just happened to like men. And the whole time I thought...I just liked to talk to good-looking men, that's natural, and the whole time I fancied you rotten too and I didn't even notice, right up to the end almost. Even then until Sandust burned it was all this enormous lie. And once that was done I was free of it."
Remus swallowed tightly. Sirius' body had relaxed, now that the truth was out, and in some ways that was even more dangerous. Anything he said could wound him, slice him open and gut him. The tiniest sharp edge could wreck him and even silence could be sharp.
"You were lying about being gay," he said gently. "You thought you were just taking care of me."
Sirius nodded and kissed his skin again.
"And Sandust was that lie," Remus concluded.
"I'm so sorry, Moony."
Remus smiled and tugged his hair a little. "Sirius, I am much more annoyed that you woke me up at three am to say this than I am that you tormented yourself for a decade because if you touched another man's body you might enjoy it too much."
Sirius lay still for a moment, Remus sliding his fingers through his hair.
"You can go back to sleep if you want," Sirius said. Remus tugged his hair, lifting his head until their faces were level, waiting until Sirius met his eyes before continuing.
"I am also more annoyed that you are completely missing the point," he said, tugging gently again for emphasis. "I don't care if you don't open another shop, Sirius. I don't care if you never work again. Why should you, except to be happy? But it wouldn't be like last time. You would lock up your shop and say goodnight to your neighbours and come home, and instead of an empty house I'd be here. Reading or cooking or making the bed we sleep in together. This time I'd be here when you came home." He paused and licked his lips. "And now that you've had your big emotional coming-out, five years after you started sleeping with me, can we go back to the sex? Because this is terrible, terrible foreplay."
Sirius put his head down on Remus' chest and laughed, shoulders shaking, breath warm against his skin. Remus waited while he laughed, full and deep, until finally he slowed and stopped.
"Moony," he said.
"Yes, Padfoot."
"I want to kiss you."
"Well, I'm not exactly stopping you."
Sirius propped himself over his lover and kissed his lips, affectionately, while Remus smiled.
"And I want to touch you," he whispered.
"Oh yes?" Remus raised his eyebrows.
"Mm. I want to touch you until you moan."
"Shouldn't take much," Remus said, the last syllable disappearing into another kiss.
"I want to make you want me," Sirius continued, hands drifting down his body, to his thighs and stomach and cock. Remus tilted his head back, eyes flickering closed, and Sirius took the opportunity to kiss his neck. "I want to touch you everywhere."
"Sirius," Remus moaned, as Sirius' fingers stroked him slowly.
"Would you like that, Moony?" Sirius asked in his ear.
"Yes," Remus hissed.
"Me too. I'd like to lick you, taste you. I want you to be desperate for me."
"Too late," Remus laughed, moaning again as Sirius' hand tightened slightly. Sirius needed this, he knew; not just the catharsis of sex, that was something they'd both needed in the past, but some kind of -- assertion. That what he offered was acceptable, desireable; that Remus wanted him. Because if both of them wanted it, then it was okay, whatever the rest of the world might say. Whatever poor, repressed Sirius had thought years ago when he wondered why the women he fucked never made him happy.
All those women, he thought, as Sirius kissed his way down his chest and stomach. All that sex never made him half so happy as he was with me.
The power was almost more erotic than the feeling of Sirius' mouth on his cock -- the knowledge that he had the ability to make Sirius pleased or miserable just by his presence. He couldn't ever misuse it, or it might be lost, because Sirius always walked a razor-thin tightrope, but then who wanted to misuse it? All he wanted was for his -- boyfriend, his lover -- to be happy.
Then all the philosophy in the world disappeared, because Sirius took his splendid, splendid mouth away and slid back up his body and whispered in his ear, "I want you to fuck me."
Remus laughed again and kissed him. "If I knew you were this good at dirty talk, my own, I would have made you do it years ago."
"Slow," Sirius continued, their bodies pressed together, his hips moving with agonizing deliberation. "I want you inside me. Please, Moony," he begged, which made Remus' head spin.
Remus smiled into his shoulder and let Sirius roll over. He pulled him close, chest to Sirius' shoulders, hips moving slightly.
"What was it you wanted again?" he asked, sliding a hand down his stomach.
"Moony -- "
"Shh. Trust me, I know what I'm doing," he grinned, relief and love flooding through him. They knew almost every charm there possibly was for this kind of thing, which made all that Muggle fumbling with lubricant and fingers seem graceless and clumsy. He whispered a few latin words in Sirius' ear and felt him buck as the charm worked, heard him whine desperately. And, when he pressed inside him, heard him moan even more desperately.
He didn't want to move slowly; he wanted to crawl inside Sirius' skin until they were one person. He wanted to hear Sirius moan and say his name and feel the flickering, trembling tension in his body as he came, a delicious tension that would blank out the afternoon, the horrible afternoon and silent dinner and angry look in Padfoot's eyes. It took all his restraint to give Sirius what he wanted -- the leisurely push of his hips, the loose way his hand stroked Sirius' cock, slow kisses on his neck and shoulders. Even so, when Sirius gasped and his breath began to come shallow and fast, he couldn't help himself; Sirius should know that the desperate fast thrusts were as much a sign as the restraint he had (rather admirably) shown up to this point.
"Love you, Sirius," he said, moaning, trying to apologise for losing control. "Love you -- I love you -- "
He shuddered and felt Sirius stiffen, and there it was -- the drawn-out keen from Sirius that took all thought from both their minds.
Remus gasped for breath as Sirius relaxed, pulling away slightly, rolling onto his back.
"Feel better?" he asked Sirius, collapsing against his shoulder. Sirius mumbled a cleaning charm, which tickled slightly.
"Yes," he answered. "Now you really can go back to sleep if you want."
Remus chuckled. "Not as good at pillow talk, alas."
"Everyone has their skills," Sirius said, making a dignified face.
"That is so." Remus closed his eyes and nosed against Sirius' shoulder, throwing one arm across his waist. They were silent for a few minutes, until Sirius drew in a breath again. Remus tried not to tense.
"This whole sodomy thing," Sirius mumbled. "I think it could really catch on."
Remus snickered, relaxing. "Well, I was a fan way before it was hip."
"Remus!"
"S'true," Remus yawned. Sirius kissed him before closing his eyes.
"There are some empty shops in Hogsmeade," he said idly. "I'd have to wait till next year, though. No point trying to get a shop open in two months before we leave for the River House."
"Don't do it for me," Remus said, already half asleep. "I just want you to be happy."
Sirius stroked his hair. "All right. I'll think about it first."
"Good boy," Remus said, and slipped back down into sleep.
***
Remus reflected over the next few days that something in Sirius had changed; it wasn't as if the sex was ever bad, or ever infrequent, but it felt almost as though Sirius was in some odd honeymoon period. He touched him constantly when they were alone together and Padfoot was at Hogwarts much more often, sleeping under Harry's desk during classes and sitting at Remus' feet at meals. He knew it would probably wear off, but he enjoyed it while it lasted, especially after the April full moon. Despite the wolfsbane potion, he was still weak and tired, and the warm body curled around him at all hours was not unwelcome.
It was as if Sirius had been keeping back one last reserve, some leftover fragment from when they were only friends, and that had disappeared.
After the moon, when he finally moved back to his own rooms at Hogwarts to recuperate a little, he had visitors; Snape, as always, asking brusque questions about his physical condition and insisting on examining his throat and glands. Hard on his heels came Kingsley Shacklebolt, wanting to inform him of his students' behaviour and discuss their treatment of a Real Live Auror teaching them Defence while their professor was sick.
"I didn't expect them to ask so many questions," Kingsley admitted frankly, sitting on a chair next to the bed. Remus grinned at him from his bed, propped on pillows provided and rearranged solicitously by Sirius that morning.
"You don't see many children in your line of work, do you?" he asked. "They're always inquisitive. And you're a bona-fide superhero to them."
"Not all of them," Kingsley said. "Some of the older ones were suspicious. Some of them have parents with some pretty Dark skeletons in their closet, you know. Possibly literal skeletons, if you believe the stories that go round at headquarters. Slytherin, mostly."
"Not all of them, surely," Remus protested. Kingsley smiled.
"Are you asking if Potter was stroppy?" he asked. "I hear what he did to Umbridge, though even from her side of the story it sounds like she deserved what she got."
"Well..."
"I know you're friends with his godfather," Kingsley assured him. "Potter was all right; he even came up to me after class and asked a few...oddly insightful questions. Mostly about Dementors and the Patronus."
"Makes sense, what with all the Dementors around the school," Remus said blithely.
"Yes; I told him a Patronus was advanced magic he wouldn't see till his seventh year, though," Kingsley said.
"Not quite true," Remus replied, exhaustion from the moon loosening his tongue. "I've been teaching him on the sly."
"Have you? I heard he pulled something during the Quidditch game, but I was supervising forest patrols. I'd be shocked if he could create a full-fledged one. He asked me if I could."
"Not yet, but he's working on it. Did you tell him?"
"I said I could, but I didn't have time to show him. D'you know, young Malfoy came up to me too. He seemed pretty interested in what it takes to become an Auror."
Remus smiled. "Draco's a good lad, but I don't think he has the push for it. I could be wrong, but he's so timid, so much of the time. He and Harry get up to mischief together, but he never acts on his own."
"That was the sense I got," Kingsley agreed. "At any rate, they're a good lot, your students, and now I can put it about at the Ministry that when I taught class there wasn't a single problem. That'll get up Umbridge's nose."
"Thanks, Kingsley," Remus said. "I appreciate it."
"One more thing, then I'll let you bide...has Ted spoken to you recently?" Kingsley asked, looking as if he were fishing for something.
"He had a word with Sirius," Remus said guardedly. "Sirius had a word with me. Do you credit any of it?"
"From Ted, I do. Not sure if his gossip is good, but I trust his judgement. Do you think...I have some clout with the youngsters in the Ministry. Do you think it's time we talked to Dumbledore about rebuilding the Order of the Phoenix?"
Remus shook his head. "Not yet. An overreaction now would make us look like fools later, and it's still just stories. I'm sure Dumbledore's keeping a steady hand on things."
"He's getting old, Lupin."
"He's still Dumbledore."
Kingsley nodded. "Well, I'm not giving up my allegiance. But I will talk to one or two promising people. Just in case."
"Thanks, Kingsley." Remus took the parchment scroll of notes that Kingsley passed him. "Stay in touch."
"Practically the Auror motto," Kingsley said, and walked to the fireplace. "Ministry for Magic!" he called, stepping inside.
Remus considered Kingsley's words, toying with the scroll without actually untying the twine that held it shut. He'd heard the rumours about Pettigrew and Malfoy poking around Eastern Europe, but Voldemort was dead. Even if Dumbledore didn't believe it, Remus had to; he'd lost too much to the Death Eaters to believe otherwise, and Voldemort was powerful, even more powerful than Peter. Peter was still, in part, the sly, not-too-clever hanger-on of his school friends, and Lucius Malfoy was a raving madman. Madmen and schoolboys he could handle. Voldemort...
He prayed that Voldemort could not be resurrected. If he were, Remus would seriously consider the suggestion of taking Harry and bolting for safety, because he had lost Harry's parents to Voldemort and he was not about to lose Harry and Sirius as well.
***
I regret to say that at this point I stopped writing Laocoon's Children, and wasn't able to start again. Book three remains unfinished. Because I didn't want to leave it hanging forever, I did do a summary of the end of book three, and provided my notes for the rest of the books in the series.
Continue on to Summary, Part One
***
When Sirius didn't return by sunset, Remus gave up trying to work for the day and went into the kitchen, rummaging in the pantry and cold-cupboard for something to eat. Nothing looked particularly appetising, and he considered floo'ing the Three Broomsticks and asking after Sirius just to soothe his nerves so that he could settle down and eat something.
He had just about resolved to do it when he heard Sirius outside, knocking the mud off his boots on the small cast-iron guards by the door. He waited in the kitchen, listening to the door open and close and Sirius' keys clatter on the foyer table.
"Moony?" Sirius called.
"Kitchen!" Remus replied. "Just trying to sort out dinner."
"Don't bother," Sirius said gruffly, appearing in the doorway. He had a large, grease-stained paper bag in one hand. "Brought some with me. Got that curry you like from the place near Zonko's."
"That was nice," Remus said warily, accepting the bag and unpacking it. Awkward silence was so much worse when there hadn't been any in years, he reflected. Sirius shoved his hands in his pockets and watched as he unpacked the various containers and began piling food on two plates.
"I don't want to talk about it," Sirius said, startling him. He paused in the act of licking some curry sauce from his thumb.
"I surmised," he answered blandly.
"But I want you to know that I don't want to talk about it. So that we're not snapping at each other all night."
"I didn't snap," Remus retorted, stung.
"I suppose I'm the only one being irrational, then?"
"Sirius -- "
"Don't say it that way. You're the one who insisted on talking about Sandust."
Remus rested both hands on the kitchen counter, bowing his head patiently. After a minute, he picked up one plate and offered it to Sirius.
"I wasn't trying to make you talk about Sandust," he said, carrying his own plate to the table. "But now I sort of think you should, if this is the way you react to me mentioning the name."
"No."
"Yes, you've made that clear." He sat and began picking at the food with a fork. "Thank you for dinner."
"You're welcome." Sirius stabbed his kebab with a fork, yanking the meat off the skewer. Awkward silence unrolled again.
"I still think it might be a good idea, finding something to do," Remus ventured hesitantly. "Like when you give tours in the summer in Betwys Beddau."
"Maybe," Sirius grunted, the implication clear: not bloody likely.
"Anyway," Remus said, "We've only got about another month and a half before exams. Be nice to be back in Betwys Beddau."
"Sure," Sirius said. Remus sighed inwardly, looking forward to a long, uncomfortable evening.
After dinner, Sirius apparently decided that Padfoot was the best silent treatment he could give. Remus spent the evening trying to read while Padfoot snoozed on the sofa and did some arcane inspection of the house, snuffling along the baseboards and inspecting each stair as he climbed it. Finally, Remus set his book down.
"All right," he said. "I'm going to bed. Are you coming?"
Padfoot yelped once and followed him up the stairs to the bedroom, arranging himself on the blankets once Remus had settled in. He glared a little balefully as Remus rolled over, unsettling him from his position at the foot of the bed, but he didn't try to make any noise or hog the blankets, which Remus supposed was something.
***
Remus awoke to the sensation of Sirius kissing him -- not Padfoot's doggy kisses, which were sort of disgusting and anyway rarely bestowed, but Sirius' lips on his throat and shoulder, Sirius nuzzling his skin.
"Whass wrong?" he asked sleepily, trying to get his eyes open.
"Nothing," Sirius muttered. "Want to talk to you."
"Mmh? What time is it?"
"About three."
Remus groaned. "You're lucky it's a Sunday, or I'd smack you on the nose and go back to sleep."
Sirius nipped his throat. More fully awake now, he could feel an arm draped over his chest, hand curled to stroke his other shoulder lightly.
"Make-up sex?" Sirius asked hopefully. Remus wriggled closer, brushing his lips over Sirius' forehead.
"Are we skipping the part where we say sorry?" he asked.
"No," Sirius said, resting his head on Remus' shoulder. "I just need to tell you some stuff."
"Well, I'm all attention. Have you come to your senses?"
Sirius growled. "I was in my senses before!"
"Okay, okay. Don't stop that," Remus said, and Sirius kissed his jawline.
"Everyone says," he said, working his way up to Remus' ear and biting his earlobe gently, "that you shouldn't go to bed angry. So, first apology. I'm sorry I went to bed angry."
"Accepted," Remus replied. "Me too."
Sirius slid his hand down from shoulder to stomach, fingers warm and sure. Remus felt he shouldn't enjoy it as much as he did; felt it was somehow a remnant of a more canine personality, enjoying having his belly rubbed. Sirius knew it, which was why he was using it, of course. Sirius knew how to get right through every defence Remus had, which was a little disconcerting sometimes.
But it felt so good he also didn't care.
"And I'm sorry I snapped at you," Sirius continued.
"Also accepted," Remus mumbled, arching his back a little. Sirius kissed his temple, cheeks, the corner of his mouth. "Don't stop doing that."
"Won't," Sirius assured him, hooking a thumb in his pyjamas and pulling them down. "You know how much I loved the bookshop."
"Yes..."
"And it's only..." Sirius paused to press his face to Remus' throat again. "If I didn't have the bookshop I wouldn't have you or Harry."
"Yes!" Remus said, feeling oddly triumphant and forgetting for a moment that Sirius' fingers were sliding along the ridge of one hip-bone. He pushed himself up on his elbows, dislodging Sirius slightly, and looked down at him. "That is exactly what I said this afternoon after you left! Only I forgot the part about me."
Sirius looked up at him reproachfully. "I'm trying to make out with you," he said.
"Sorry." Remus settled down again, turning to face him. He kissed him on the mouth, something Sirius had still been inching towards. "Can I ask...?"
"Mm," Sirius replied, which Remus took as permission.
"Were you afraid if you opened another shop, it'd burn down too?"
Sirius raised his head and looked at him for a long time, an almost curious look. Remus reached out with one hand and stroked his disordered hair, cupping his cheek.
"No," Sirius said. "That...no. Don't you see?"
"See what, love?" Remus asked. "I saw a man mourning for something he'd lost. Isn't that what it was?"
"Those seven years at Sandust...I loved it so much. It was...quiet, and you were there for a lot of it, and..." Sirius made a vague gesture. "But it was all a lie."
Remus tensed. Sirius put a calming hand back on his chest, rubbing slowly.
"That rat was living in our rafters, listening to us. And that's like...a metaphor, almost. All I did at Sandust was lie to myself," Sirius whispered, and there was real fear and pain on his face, something he didn't often reveal. Remus covered his hand with one of his own.
"You did what you thought was right, to protect Harry," he said.
"Did I? The whole time -- some of the lies were so old and ingrained." Sirius pulled his hand away and Remus could almost feel the tension crackling between them now. If he stepped wrong, this might go very, very badly; but he wasn't sure what Sirius was saying. He took his time, though he wasn't sure the end result was worth the consideration he was giving it.
"Tell me," he said.
Sirius bit his lip, looking like he might weep, which was even more upsetting than being snapped at. Remus rolled and gathered him in his arms, holding his head against his shoulder.
"I thought I was protecting Harry," Sirius said, voice low and uncertain. "But that wasn't so, was it? I let them treat him terribly, like some kind of animal -- for years."
"You didn't know. We didn't know."
"We knew it was wrong. We had eyes to see with, see him wearing hand-me-downs and being shouted at by the Dursley boy."
"That's my guilt too, though. And we fixed it, Sirius. Harry's a beautiful child. He loves us and he has friends, he's as close to normal as anyone could be in his situation."
Sirius was still tense, still holding himself together through sheer physical muscle. "That's not all."
"Tell me," Remus repeated, feeling Sirius' arms creep around his waist, holding him there in case he let go. Poor Sirius; still insecure. Remus couldn't have let go for his own life.
"I lied to myself about you, too," Sirius mumbled. "I lied about what you were going through those first few years -- "
"We've had done with that. That's not something to forgive, Sirius. You helped me when I didn't even want help." Remus kissed the crown of his head. If Sirius still cared that he'd nearly starved before coming to Sandust, then he'd carried that burden of guilt years after Remus had all but forgotten it.
"I lied about what I felt for you," Sirius said, and there was the crux of it; his voice broke. "I lied about who I was. I left you alone because if you'd been there the lie wouldn't have stood, and then when you came to Sandust I had to face that. All the women, I...suppose I lied to them too. I thought that was what men did, young men, I thought...they would give me some kind of answer if I kept at it long enough."
"Sirius, I don't understand," Remus whispered.
"All the time I kept Sandust, up until nearly the end, I thought I was Sirius Black, this -- I don't know, some kind of Famous Bachelor like they say in the papers, and my best friend on earth just happened to like men. And the whole time I thought...I just liked to talk to good-looking men, that's natural, and the whole time I fancied you rotten too and I didn't even notice, right up to the end almost. Even then until Sandust burned it was all this enormous lie. And once that was done I was free of it."
Remus swallowed tightly. Sirius' body had relaxed, now that the truth was out, and in some ways that was even more dangerous. Anything he said could wound him, slice him open and gut him. The tiniest sharp edge could wreck him and even silence could be sharp.
"You were lying about being gay," he said gently. "You thought you were just taking care of me."
Sirius nodded and kissed his skin again.
"And Sandust was that lie," Remus concluded.
"I'm so sorry, Moony."
Remus smiled and tugged his hair a little. "Sirius, I am much more annoyed that you woke me up at three am to say this than I am that you tormented yourself for a decade because if you touched another man's body you might enjoy it too much."
Sirius lay still for a moment, Remus sliding his fingers through his hair.
"You can go back to sleep if you want," Sirius said. Remus tugged his hair, lifting his head until their faces were level, waiting until Sirius met his eyes before continuing.
"I am also more annoyed that you are completely missing the point," he said, tugging gently again for emphasis. "I don't care if you don't open another shop, Sirius. I don't care if you never work again. Why should you, except to be happy? But it wouldn't be like last time. You would lock up your shop and say goodnight to your neighbours and come home, and instead of an empty house I'd be here. Reading or cooking or making the bed we sleep in together. This time I'd be here when you came home." He paused and licked his lips. "And now that you've had your big emotional coming-out, five years after you started sleeping with me, can we go back to the sex? Because this is terrible, terrible foreplay."
Sirius put his head down on Remus' chest and laughed, shoulders shaking, breath warm against his skin. Remus waited while he laughed, full and deep, until finally he slowed and stopped.
"Moony," he said.
"Yes, Padfoot."
"I want to kiss you."
"Well, I'm not exactly stopping you."
Sirius propped himself over his lover and kissed his lips, affectionately, while Remus smiled.
"And I want to touch you," he whispered.
"Oh yes?" Remus raised his eyebrows.
"Mm. I want to touch you until you moan."
"Shouldn't take much," Remus said, the last syllable disappearing into another kiss.
"I want to make you want me," Sirius continued, hands drifting down his body, to his thighs and stomach and cock. Remus tilted his head back, eyes flickering closed, and Sirius took the opportunity to kiss his neck. "I want to touch you everywhere."
"Sirius," Remus moaned, as Sirius' fingers stroked him slowly.
"Would you like that, Moony?" Sirius asked in his ear.
"Yes," Remus hissed.
"Me too. I'd like to lick you, taste you. I want you to be desperate for me."
"Too late," Remus laughed, moaning again as Sirius' hand tightened slightly. Sirius needed this, he knew; not just the catharsis of sex, that was something they'd both needed in the past, but some kind of -- assertion. That what he offered was acceptable, desireable; that Remus wanted him. Because if both of them wanted it, then it was okay, whatever the rest of the world might say. Whatever poor, repressed Sirius had thought years ago when he wondered why the women he fucked never made him happy.
All those women, he thought, as Sirius kissed his way down his chest and stomach. All that sex never made him half so happy as he was with me.
The power was almost more erotic than the feeling of Sirius' mouth on his cock -- the knowledge that he had the ability to make Sirius pleased or miserable just by his presence. He couldn't ever misuse it, or it might be lost, because Sirius always walked a razor-thin tightrope, but then who wanted to misuse it? All he wanted was for his -- boyfriend, his lover -- to be happy.
Then all the philosophy in the world disappeared, because Sirius took his splendid, splendid mouth away and slid back up his body and whispered in his ear, "I want you to fuck me."
Remus laughed again and kissed him. "If I knew you were this good at dirty talk, my own, I would have made you do it years ago."
"Slow," Sirius continued, their bodies pressed together, his hips moving with agonizing deliberation. "I want you inside me. Please, Moony," he begged, which made Remus' head spin.
Remus smiled into his shoulder and let Sirius roll over. He pulled him close, chest to Sirius' shoulders, hips moving slightly.
"What was it you wanted again?" he asked, sliding a hand down his stomach.
"Moony -- "
"Shh. Trust me, I know what I'm doing," he grinned, relief and love flooding through him. They knew almost every charm there possibly was for this kind of thing, which made all that Muggle fumbling with lubricant and fingers seem graceless and clumsy. He whispered a few latin words in Sirius' ear and felt him buck as the charm worked, heard him whine desperately. And, when he pressed inside him, heard him moan even more desperately.
He didn't want to move slowly; he wanted to crawl inside Sirius' skin until they were one person. He wanted to hear Sirius moan and say his name and feel the flickering, trembling tension in his body as he came, a delicious tension that would blank out the afternoon, the horrible afternoon and silent dinner and angry look in Padfoot's eyes. It took all his restraint to give Sirius what he wanted -- the leisurely push of his hips, the loose way his hand stroked Sirius' cock, slow kisses on his neck and shoulders. Even so, when Sirius gasped and his breath began to come shallow and fast, he couldn't help himself; Sirius should know that the desperate fast thrusts were as much a sign as the restraint he had (rather admirably) shown up to this point.
"Love you, Sirius," he said, moaning, trying to apologise for losing control. "Love you -- I love you -- "
He shuddered and felt Sirius stiffen, and there it was -- the drawn-out keen from Sirius that took all thought from both their minds.
Remus gasped for breath as Sirius relaxed, pulling away slightly, rolling onto his back.
"Feel better?" he asked Sirius, collapsing against his shoulder. Sirius mumbled a cleaning charm, which tickled slightly.
"Yes," he answered. "Now you really can go back to sleep if you want."
Remus chuckled. "Not as good at pillow talk, alas."
"Everyone has their skills," Sirius said, making a dignified face.
"That is so." Remus closed his eyes and nosed against Sirius' shoulder, throwing one arm across his waist. They were silent for a few minutes, until Sirius drew in a breath again. Remus tried not to tense.
"This whole sodomy thing," Sirius mumbled. "I think it could really catch on."
Remus snickered, relaxing. "Well, I was a fan way before it was hip."
"Remus!"
"S'true," Remus yawned. Sirius kissed him before closing his eyes.
"There are some empty shops in Hogsmeade," he said idly. "I'd have to wait till next year, though. No point trying to get a shop open in two months before we leave for the River House."
"Don't do it for me," Remus said, already half asleep. "I just want you to be happy."
Sirius stroked his hair. "All right. I'll think about it first."
"Good boy," Remus said, and slipped back down into sleep.
***
Remus reflected over the next few days that something in Sirius had changed; it wasn't as if the sex was ever bad, or ever infrequent, but it felt almost as though Sirius was in some odd honeymoon period. He touched him constantly when they were alone together and Padfoot was at Hogwarts much more often, sleeping under Harry's desk during classes and sitting at Remus' feet at meals. He knew it would probably wear off, but he enjoyed it while it lasted, especially after the April full moon. Despite the wolfsbane potion, he was still weak and tired, and the warm body curled around him at all hours was not unwelcome.
It was as if Sirius had been keeping back one last reserve, some leftover fragment from when they were only friends, and that had disappeared.
After the moon, when he finally moved back to his own rooms at Hogwarts to recuperate a little, he had visitors; Snape, as always, asking brusque questions about his physical condition and insisting on examining his throat and glands. Hard on his heels came Kingsley Shacklebolt, wanting to inform him of his students' behaviour and discuss their treatment of a Real Live Auror teaching them Defence while their professor was sick.
"I didn't expect them to ask so many questions," Kingsley admitted frankly, sitting on a chair next to the bed. Remus grinned at him from his bed, propped on pillows provided and rearranged solicitously by Sirius that morning.
"You don't see many children in your line of work, do you?" he asked. "They're always inquisitive. And you're a bona-fide superhero to them."
"Not all of them," Kingsley said. "Some of the older ones were suspicious. Some of them have parents with some pretty Dark skeletons in their closet, you know. Possibly literal skeletons, if you believe the stories that go round at headquarters. Slytherin, mostly."
"Not all of them, surely," Remus protested. Kingsley smiled.
"Are you asking if Potter was stroppy?" he asked. "I hear what he did to Umbridge, though even from her side of the story it sounds like she deserved what she got."
"Well..."
"I know you're friends with his godfather," Kingsley assured him. "Potter was all right; he even came up to me after class and asked a few...oddly insightful questions. Mostly about Dementors and the Patronus."
"Makes sense, what with all the Dementors around the school," Remus said blithely.
"Yes; I told him a Patronus was advanced magic he wouldn't see till his seventh year, though," Kingsley said.
"Not quite true," Remus replied, exhaustion from the moon loosening his tongue. "I've been teaching him on the sly."
"Have you? I heard he pulled something during the Quidditch game, but I was supervising forest patrols. I'd be shocked if he could create a full-fledged one. He asked me if I could."
"Not yet, but he's working on it. Did you tell him?"
"I said I could, but I didn't have time to show him. D'you know, young Malfoy came up to me too. He seemed pretty interested in what it takes to become an Auror."
Remus smiled. "Draco's a good lad, but I don't think he has the push for it. I could be wrong, but he's so timid, so much of the time. He and Harry get up to mischief together, but he never acts on his own."
"That was the sense I got," Kingsley agreed. "At any rate, they're a good lot, your students, and now I can put it about at the Ministry that when I taught class there wasn't a single problem. That'll get up Umbridge's nose."
"Thanks, Kingsley," Remus said. "I appreciate it."
"One more thing, then I'll let you bide...has Ted spoken to you recently?" Kingsley asked, looking as if he were fishing for something.
"He had a word with Sirius," Remus said guardedly. "Sirius had a word with me. Do you credit any of it?"
"From Ted, I do. Not sure if his gossip is good, but I trust his judgement. Do you think...I have some clout with the youngsters in the Ministry. Do you think it's time we talked to Dumbledore about rebuilding the Order of the Phoenix?"
Remus shook his head. "Not yet. An overreaction now would make us look like fools later, and it's still just stories. I'm sure Dumbledore's keeping a steady hand on things."
"He's getting old, Lupin."
"He's still Dumbledore."
Kingsley nodded. "Well, I'm not giving up my allegiance. But I will talk to one or two promising people. Just in case."
"Thanks, Kingsley." Remus took the parchment scroll of notes that Kingsley passed him. "Stay in touch."
"Practically the Auror motto," Kingsley said, and walked to the fireplace. "Ministry for Magic!" he called, stepping inside.
Remus considered Kingsley's words, toying with the scroll without actually untying the twine that held it shut. He'd heard the rumours about Pettigrew and Malfoy poking around Eastern Europe, but Voldemort was dead. Even if Dumbledore didn't believe it, Remus had to; he'd lost too much to the Death Eaters to believe otherwise, and Voldemort was powerful, even more powerful than Peter. Peter was still, in part, the sly, not-too-clever hanger-on of his school friends, and Lucius Malfoy was a raving madman. Madmen and schoolboys he could handle. Voldemort...
He prayed that Voldemort could not be resurrected. If he were, Remus would seriously consider the suggestion of taking Harry and bolting for safety, because he had lost Harry's parents to Voldemort and he was not about to lose Harry and Sirius as well.
***
I regret to say that at this point I stopped writing Laocoon's Children, and wasn't able to start again. Book three remains unfinished. Because I didn't want to leave it hanging forever, I did do a summary of the end of book three, and provided my notes for the rest of the books in the series.
Continue on to Summary, Part One
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