Title: i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
Team: Team MWPP
Rating: R, flirting with NC-17
Warnings: AU, like really AU (Remus never went to Hogwarts because of his condition). Boy sex, language, violence/gore, slash, het references, and alcohol consumption. Basically all that comes with teenage boy.
Summary: A story, in which Sirius Black falls in love, gets drunk, performs illegal spells and reads poetry.
Prompt: LIBRA-You may be waiting for something or someone. And the whole process has left you frustrated and anxious. But if you get a quarter of what you're hoping for, you'll be happy. And you will, soon get at least that.
Genre(s): Romance that morphed into AU
Credits: My two beta's, Madeyemax and Shannon (which will now be dubbed Mulder and Scully!) are truly wonderful human beings. Scully nursed me through writing it and Mulder convinced me that it was worthy. Thank you! Also, I don't own the poetry that is used in this piece. The title comes from another e.e. cummings poem.
Sirius Black sagged in Godric's Hallows's summer heat. It melted everything inside of him into a big puddle of mischief and sweat and naughty thoughts; a puddle o'boy, and Sirius didn't like being liquid.
"James, this heat is melting my soul." He whined pathetically and wanted to clutch at his chest, but it took too much energy. "It's tormenting my soul."
He looked up from watching sweat collect on his palm to see his best friend sleeping, rather than listening to him. Bastard. Sirius took a last, withering glare at his glass of water, once cool and refreshing, but now it was just a slanderous illusion of chill. His tee shirt stuck to him, dark grey with sweat and his trouser clung to his thighs.
Right, fucking painful.
Suddenly, the sticky heat wanted him to move. It compelled him to escape the street's blaring sun, into a shop that wouldn't kick him out on sight. It begged him, and his liquid insides agreed. They desperately wanted to be solid again; it was more fun that way.
Which, Sirius smiled, ruled out the pub at the end of the street because of the Drunken Incident In Which Sirius Discovered and Announced He Was Queer. Fond memories, disturbing and incredibly blurred, but most certainly fond. It also ruled out the ice cream parlor because James had no manners, and had accidentally exploded half the shop the summer after third year. The record store was out too, but Sirius took full blame for that (who knew they didn't cater to trannies?) and sadly, the classy unmentionables shop for obvious reasons, but also due to the fact that Sirius had been caught, pants around his ankles, with the owners' son last summer. James had rescued him from certain death in a very valiant, albeit destructive way. Simply because they owned an unmentionables shop did not mean they were necessarily open-minded.
It left Sirius with little choice but to brave the book shop because he was not going anywhere near the birds' clothing place, mostly because of the sales woman, who started stalking and molesting him two years ago, and still wouldn't take no for an answer. And the yarn shop was off limits; he was gay, not a raging queen. Although to be fair, Sirius had once tried to knit a pair of pants, and James had deemed him an arse bandit, and although he was technically right, James was a snarky cunt who needed to be punished.
The ugly heat did not leave him completely when he stepped inside the book shop, but a cool breeze greeted him with the ringing of the bell above the door. Sirius sighed in relief. The shop was bursting with books. Overfilled shelves had vertical books topped by horizontal ones and the shelves, themselves, reached up to the high vaulted ceilings. Sirius stepped farther into the cool shop, only to send a stack of books, one of millions of piles that hadn't made it onto the shelves, careening across the floor.
"Bugger." He scrambled to pick up the books, which seemed to have multiplied when they hit the floor, but stopped when he noticed that the spine of the book in his hand had the word 'Faulkner' in solid silver letters. Sirius still took Muggle Studies, and if he wasn't mistaken, Faulkner was definitely a Muggle.
He was in a Muggle book shop, which shouldn't have surprised him because the shops on the street were mixed. The strictly wizard shops were charmed so that Muggles couldn't see them, but there were some shops that catered to both Muggles and wizards. Those shops usually had a room in the back for wizarding merchandise with a charm to disguise it from Muggles. But Sirius knew nothing of Muggle literature, they didn't get to that until seventh year.
"Excuse me, sir, may I help you find something?"
Sirius snapped his head up at the sound of the voice, polite yet gravelly and intimate. The lovely voice belonged to the shop clerk.
The gorgeous shop clerk.
"Umm, no. Sorry, I just walked in and-" The brown haired boy couldn't have been more than a few years older than him, if that, but something about him looked older. Sirius stared. He couldn't help himself. The boy nodded and began to pick up the books Sirius had knocked over. Sirius helped, if only to prolong his staring.
The sun beating down through the windows picked up the subtle red highlights in the shop keeper's light brown hair. He had black, plastic rimmed glasses, but Sirius couldn't make out the colour of his eyes. The clerk was busy picking up the heavy, and rather dusty, books. He handled them gently though, as if they were prized possessions.
Sirius peered at the book he was placing onto the stack. 'Keats' was inscribed on the spine, and it looked a bit worse for wear. Sirius tired to suppress his shudder for Muggle poetry and searched for something to say.
"Terribly hot outside." Sirius felt his cheeks burn, but Merlin did this boy shatter him.
The clerk hummed and started off. Sirius quickly categorized his full lips, small smattering of freckles on his pale cheeks and sharp jaw line before the boy turned and disappeared between the stacks. Sirius was still crouched, as he watched the boy's corduroy clad hips walk away. He was swift; not elegant, but certainly graceful. Sirius stood to see the broad, yet thin- almost bony, shoulders between the shelves.
Sirius' fingers tingled and his mouth was dry, as the sweat cooled on his skin. He set the last book, which he had forgotten he was holding, on the reassembled pile and walked between the shelves. The floorboards, bare and worn, creaked beneath his feet. Sirius ran his fingers unconsciously over the spines, silky and textured. He wondered if the beautiful clerk would feel similar beneath his hands, his tongue.
Sirius shivered at the thought.
He was amazed at the sheer volume of books in the shop. How Muggles found so much to write about was beyond him. Sirius strolled, as casually as possible, through the aisles of books. The smell of the shop wasn't musty or damp like most of the books shops Sirius had been in, not that he had frequented many. He snorted with laughter. The Hogwarts' library and Flourish and Blotts hardly made him an expert in the smell of libraries and book stores, but this book shop had a distinctive smell.
It smelled like ink and parchment, but then, that was a given. When Sirius breathed in deeply, he could smell hazelnut and vanilla with a touch of bitter, dark chocolate. The smell was soothing, and put an easy smile on his face.
Sirius made his way to the back of the shop where a small teller bench was located. The clerk was nowhere in sight, and Sirius greedily took in the rest of the shop. There was a door behind the counter, with an ancient teller machine on the top of a thick marble slab. Two stacks of books were also on the counter, the pile nearest to Sirius looked like much of the rest of the shop, but the second stack, which was almost obscured by the teller machine, looked very nondescript. Sirius took a quick look around again before moving toward the second pile of books. They were all without spine or cover lettering, and Sirius opened the book on the top of the pile.
It was a potions book. An advanced potions book.
Sirius quickly flipped open the other books on the counter. They were all books Sirius had seen and used before in his own advanced classes at Hogwarts. Charms, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, Astronomy and a small Divination reference book. Sirius had never seen the beautiful shop clerk around Hogwarts, and he would have remembered. It wasn't that the clerk had classic, aristocratic beauty that Sirius could find in the mirror in the morning if he looked hard enough. The shop clerk was stunning in a different way, delicate but strikingly male. There was something mysterious about the boy, something that made Sirius want to do outlandish things.
Sirius wondered if the clerk read in bed, glasses low on his nose, bedside light playing over his features with the sound of skin rubbing against turning pages.
"Those aren't for sale." Sirius blinked up at the voice. The clerk was stiff, a panicked look on his face and his eyes were wide.
Gold. His eyes were gold.
Sirius nodded, captivated by the boy's eyes. They seemed to swirl with gold and amber, and Sirius had a significant image of waking up to them. He broke the eye contact with a flush and looked down, the clerk's hand was in his trouser pocket, his arm tense, and Sirius, were he a wagering bloke, would bet the boy had his hand wrapped tightly around a wand.
"No need to Obliviate me, mate." Relief seeped into the clerk's posture and he looked much shorter than his true height, which actually made him a couple inches taller than Sirius. The boy moved to the counter and started to restack the books Sirius had scattered in his curiosity.
The dark brown, woven vest complimented the clerk's enticing eyes. Sirius' gaze followed the long arms covered in an Oxford shirt, the sleeves pulled all the way down to the wrists even in the overbearing heat outside. The cuffs were pressed, but frayed and worn.
Sirius heard himself moan aloud when his eyes focused on the boy's hands, but he hardly cared.
The boy's hands were marred by scars. Some were faded, white and smooth. Others looked deep. There were several long scars that ran the length of the boy's hand, disappearing beneath the cuff of his sleeve. There were tiny scars too, and bright red ones that were angry and raised. They covered the tops of his hands, from his wrist to the tips of his fingers. He had spindly, bony hands, yet they made Sirius' mouth water. Sirius longed to see the palms. Were they calloused? Did they have more of the delicious mystery scars? Were they sensitive? Sirius' fingers twitched with longing to touch them.
"Uh, may I help you?"
Sirius was pulled out of his hand gazing--beautiful, yummy, please-lick-me-all-over hand gazing, and flushed at the boy's own rosy cheeks. The boy's eyes wouldn't meet his, and Sirius felt his own blush burn its way up his neck at the boy's pink-stained cheeks. The blush made his freckles stand out, Sirius noticed.
"Oh, well, um." Sirius looked for something to say. He really wasn't ready to leave yet. "You're taking a lot of subjects." Well done, Sirius, that was really fucking sexy. Sirius almost hung his head in shame. The boy looked up quickly, and Sirius felt naked beneath the weight of the golden-eyed scrutiny. Sirius cursed silently. Thinking words like 'naked' would not help his prick, which was already at half mast due to the visual hand molesting of moments earlier.
"I don't attend school, so I have a lot of time to study." He broke the gaze, but Sirius didn't stop staring as his mind tried to wrap around the boy's sentence. Not go to Hogwarts? Sirius ventured a moment to think about having to spend his life at the childhood home he had recently vacated.
Slander. Fucking slander.
Sirius opened his mouth to express thoughts like 'why?' and 'you're delicious,' and 'do you actually like your family enough to survive?' and 'can I lick your fingers?' but restrained himself, barely. The boy would probably not appreciate any of Sirius' thoughts being expressed aloud. Not many did. Sirius gave a quick thought to Mrs. Potter and Professor McGonagall, and then closed his mouth.
The boy arched his brow, and Sirius' spleen burst into an Irish jig. It was a very sexy eyebrow.
"Can I help you find something?"
Sirius blushed again. He probably hadn't blushed this much since since before he had come out of the closet, and kept getting stiffies whenever Gideon Prewett spoke to him during fourth year. But, Sirius found himself not minding being reduced to a blushing school boy because the clerk's mouth was curling upward into a half smile.
Sirius' kidneys joined his spleen in vigorous jiggery.
"Um, yes!" Sirius searched his brain for something to say, but was distracted when the boy pushed his glasses up with his lickable fingers, and the twinkling gold eyes danced back at him from behind the contrasting frames. Sirius felt his own charm shout at him from beneath his dancing organs. They weren't a part of suave-Sirius. They were the ringleaders of the nervous, flushing and weak-kneed Sirius. His charm was fighting to break through all the jiggery.
"I was wondering if you had any suggestions for books-um, Muggle ones." Well, it was not exactly swoon-worthy, but it could have been worse. Plus, the boy had the most charming face of contemplation; which was not to be confused with James' face of constipation, which he swears is contemplation. Sirius smiled at the thought and vaguely wondered where he had left his best friend in the first place.
"Well, what sort of novels do you enjoy?"
Bugger. The boy was looking at him expectantly. "Fiction ones." He stalled and the boy behind the counter's half-smile slid into a smirk.
"Any particular genre or author?" The boy nibbled on his bottom lip and Sirius' mind went blank. His liver joined the jiggery with his kidneys and spleen, and he whimpered a bit. The boy had startling white teeth, and they were worrying his plump bottom lip. Sirius was torn between wanted to be the lip, bitten by those dashing canines or those teeth, ravishing the pink and very tasty-looking lip. What exactly did the boy taste like? Sirius licked his own lips in envy.
"Sir? Sir?" Sirius snapped out of his daze, and checked his mouth for drool, as he certainly was blushing again.
"Sirius. It's Sirius."
"Oh." The boy's smirk widened into a full blown grin, and all of Sirius' organs joined the very cheery, Irish river dancing jiggery that was going on inside him. The boy was the most enticing person he'd ever met and Sirius was smitten.
"Well, Sirius."
He rather liked the way the boy said his name.
"What kind of author or genre do you fancy?"
The boy's smile was terribly contagious, and Sirius felt himself grinning, very goon-like, back at the vest clad clerk.
"Being the pureblood bastards my family was," Sirius winked and enjoyed watching the grin widen on the boy's face, his eyes wrinkling at the corners beneath the striking frames. "I'm terribly uninformed."
The boy nodded with gravity, and Sirius leaned against the counter. The boy didn't shift back, only cocked his head, and Sirius wondered if jumping over the counter and snogging the daylights out of the golden-eyed boy would be too forward.
"What sort do you fancy?" Sirius attempted a handsome leer, but feared he only looked goofier. He could hardly bring himself to care though. Except, the boy blushed and broke eye contact with Sirius before he stepped away from the counter, suddenly looking shy and reserved. Nothing like he had a few moments ago when he and Sirius had been flirting. They had been flirting right? Sirius frowned. It felt like someone had stolen his sweets, raised the drinking age, and told him he was now banished to Slytherin House (slimy gits).
"Oi, Southpaw! I've been looking all over creation for you, ya fuckin' twat." James' voice rang out in the otherwise quiet shop, and Sirius watched in horror as the relaxed, playful expression on the boy's face disappeared and was replaced with a disgustingly blank look. Sirius felt like nothing more than a customer.
"Bloody books, disgusting." James reached the counter and tossed an arm around Sirius' shoulder. "I got kicked out of all the stores again while I was looking for you. Never thought of the book shop. Desperate for the cool air, mate?"
Sirius barely nodded as the boy behind the shop counter nodded curtly and turned to disappear through the door. Sirius' organs were not doing any sort of jiggery anymore. In fact, they felt as if they might never dance again. Why had the boy clammed up so quickly? Why hadn't he ever asked for the boy's name? Why was James Potter his friend?
"Can't believe you left me, Southpaw. I'm as red as a lobster. But I had a dream and it has given me a grand thought." James turned him around and began to walk Sirius towards the shop door. Sirius was devastated.
"I think if we change the end charm, we'll be bang on the mark. I'll owl Petey to see what he thinks, not that it matters because I am GENIUS!" The bell clanged above him and James, the ultimate bastard, led him out the wonderfully cool, tasty-smelling, and beautiful-boy-holding shop and into the horrid heat of the high street.
Sirius vowed to kill James as soon as he figured out what to do about the golden boy. Sirius had never wanted to read Muggle literature more in his entire life. He would be back.
<3<3<3
"Sirius, dear." Mrs. Potter's voice floated through the bedroom door and gently prodded his highly intoxicated mind. He moaned in pain, throbbing and omnipotent, then brought the bottle of booze to his lips and attempted to drink. Sirius was, more or less, successful.
Mostly because the Firewhisky stopped burning his throat hours ago.
"I fully understand you are in one of your lovely sulks and, darling, I must say, you're succeeding wonderfully. Nevertheless, Mr. Potter wants tea and he refuses to let me boil water in what is technically Jamie. He fears it might scald him permanently."
Sirius grinned maniacally into the dark and digested Mrs. Potter's words slowly. He nodded to himself twice before Sirius rolled to his stomach and crawled on all threes (the fourth still held the bottle) towards the door. It took him a few tries and three more swigs from the bottle once he got to the door to open it.
Mrs. Potter had multiplied since the last time Sirius saw her, so he just smiled in the general direction of where all the Mrs. Potters were standing. More Mrs. Potters meant more bread pudding for him and less treacle tart for James because she indisputably liked him better than Jamie. Take that, insufferable son of a bitch.
"Oh well, aren't you lovely?" The Mrs. Potters leaned down and kissed Sirius on the forehead. Sirius felt his body roll over and he closed his eyes and snuggled into her house slippers.
"Mnot wandin' per Jaimmiieee." The Mrs. Potters cooed in response, and then he felt like he was floating. It was a fantastic feeling. His body felt very tingly and he could not feel his nipples. This was a shame because he really loved his nipples. He fancied them pinched and licked and maybe he should have gotten them pierced before they disappeared.
"Sirius, love, I know you don't want to change Jamie back. I usually like to stay out of my children's lives, but Mr. Potter isn't as understanding, especially about his tea." Sirius frowned and nodded. Mr. Potter was sometimes a bit of a wet towel about his tea, very English bloke.
"Twish, twishy an' jub." Then he waved his hand dismissively.
"Oh, thank you Sirius. Swish, twist and jab on top of a simple human Transfiguration spell. You were always a brilliant boy." Sirius squinted his left eye open. The Mrs. Potters were standing over a tea kettle that had a wild set of hair growing on the lid and glasses hanging off the spout. Sirius noticed he was sprawled out on the floor of a space ship.
Wait, nope just the living room.
"AHH! You complete and total BASTARD!" Sirius closed his eyes and thought that maybe since the Mrs. Potters had turned James back into a human, she would have time to make him bread pudding. He loved bread pudding.
"Now Jamie, don't speak to Sirius like that. He's a guest."
"Mum! He has lived here for two years; he stopped being a guest when Dad wrote him into the will. Speaking of which, did you know he's actually going to get more than me?" There was a pause and Sirius could swear he actually smelled bread pudding. "HE TURNED ME INTO A BLOODY TEA KETTLE! HOW CAN YOU STAND UP FOR HIM? HE'S A MOODY, INCONSIDERATE SHIRT-LIFTER!"
"Oh, it was only a tea kettle, and do not pick on Sirius for having an affinity for boys."
"AFFINITY? Understatement of the year, Mum! Don't you care that my skin might permanently smell like Earl Grey tea, and you know that Lily's favourite is Raspberry Lemon. Now she will never love me; you will never get a grandchild; and I will end up old and lonely with warts. So stop loving Sirius more than me because he is using mind magic to plant ideas into your head."
Sirius smiled again and curled himself into the carpet floor; he really did love it when James screeched.
"I never knew Sirius was so talented."
"SIRIUS! You fucking wanker!"
"James Atticus Jaunty Potter, I do not want to hear that language in my presence. Besides, I am not sure you are using the English language properly. You are such a bad influence on Sirius."
Sirius would have laughed at the indignant cry James made, but he was too tired.
"MOTHER!"
"Sirius." He felt a cool hand turn him over and place a wet, soothing towel on his forehead. "I know Jamie might be pressuring you but I'm sure the nipple piercing you mentioned earlier is not the answer. He just does not understand how delicate you are. You do have to remember how heterosexual Jamie is; he does not really have a mind for fashion or sense. Moreover, you wouldn't want to blemish that beautiful body of yours, would you?"
Sirius heard what sounded like James exploding in anger in the kitchen; it was a combination of very unmanly flailing, quacking and McGonagall on pixie dust (which may or may not have happened the year previously and did not, under any circumstances, have anything to do with James, Sirius and Petey). Sirius tried to laugh but succeeded in rolling over to vomit into the bucket the Mrs. Potters conjured. Really wonderful woman- er, women.
<3<3<3
The world blinked into existence for Sirius. Thankfully, the world was dark, or he would have had to murder the sun, and he was sure Azkaban would not allow bubbles, porn or Mrs. Potter's cakes.
"If you didn't look like it already, I would kick seven shades of shit out of you."
Fuck. Why did James have to talk so loud all the time?
"Drink this." This was vulgar, but not as vulgar as his mouth. Sirius unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth and almost gagged. His mouth tasted like dead cat and dirty pants. Disgusting. Sirius opened his mouth and James poured it in. At least James was good for something.
"Ummfpt." The world would not stop spinning. It was a bastard kind of a world, so Sirius shut his eyes and snuggled into the duvet.
"Mum says I shouldn't badger you for turning me into a tea kettle, you absolute wanker." Sirius tried to smile into the pillow, James' voice was full of affection, but the potion was raging war on his hangover, and Sirius had the strange notion that his hangover was winning the battle thus far.
"So, I'm blaming it on one of your arse-bandit mood swings, but I'm making you replace all of my Firewhisky, you fucking lush."
The pillows smelled like honey. Sirius liked honey. It reminded him of something, but he just could not put his finger on it. He vaguely wondered if he had enough energy to smother James with it and if his death would tamper with the scent of honey.
"Oh, you're not even listening!"
Oops, was James still talking? Insanity.
"Listen to me."
Sirius felt a very sharp prod in his midsection. "Donp' ke mumf."
"I'll poke you whenever I damn well please."
Sirius tried to flip James the 'v' but he doubted his fingers achieved it. They wanted to sleep; all of him wanted to sleep.
"I have to pick up some books Mum ordered tomorrow because of you!"
Another poke and Sirius vowed to get some less malicious friends. "I have to take time out of my day that should be reserved for writing Lily sonnets and woe-worthy letters and naughty limericks, so I can procure her love and our marriage and the Potter heir."
"Gingr 'hats ew." Sharp poke.
"Lily doesn't hate me." James' voice had turned petulant child and delusional.
Sirius merely snuggled more deeply into the sweet, honey-smelling pillow. "And don't call her Ginger. She does hate that."
"Anyway, because you decided to get sloshed for some asinine reason, turn me into a bloody kettle, and then con me mum into loving you more than me, twat face, I have to go to the book shop. The book shop, Southpaw. Eww."
Sirius flailed. Honey. Honey is gold. Gold is the colour of the boy's eyes. Beautiful book shop boy.
"Would you quit moaning? It's making me uncomfortable."
"Ate poof me boobs."
"You don't even like boobs!" Stupid cunt.
"Oooh, books, not boobs." Sirius nodded into his pillow, his thoughts a jumble of plans and ideas all surrounding the shop boy falling desperately in love with him in bed. Sirius giggled at his own joke and inhaled the smell of honey with renewed vigor.
"Fine, I'll wait for you to go to the high street. But you are picking up the order from the book shop."
Sometimes, James being a wanker suited Sirius just fine.
<3<3<3
Sirius glared menacingly at the sun. If it was possible, he felt like the day was hotter than before. All the nervous energy he had at the start of the morning had dissipated into grumpy laziness that seemed to settle in his bones. Not even Mrs. Potter's spiked lemonade had made him cheerful or energetic. In all actuality, despite the excuse to make a trip to the bookshop, Sirius was feeling particularly spiteful.
"Southpaw!" Sirius shifted his glare from the sun to the expectant face of his walking companion. James arched an eyebrow but Sirius just glared forebodingly in return. "Could you focus for one bloody sec?"
"Yeah, are we still in fucking rhapsody about Evans' knickers?" It earned him a knock about the head, but Sirius was too tired to retaliate properly.
"No, although they are brilliant. At least, I hope they are." James looked thoughtful for a whole four seconds before his brain returned to the topic at hand. Sirius was grateful. "Petey says he found the map at the bottom of his trunk. 'Dunno how it got there, but at least it's not in Snivellus' hands."
Sirius nodded. They were almost at the top of the hill which would lead them into town.
"Also," James said, his eyes bright with mischievous energy despite the heat. "I got to pokin' around me Mum's library while you were passed out and I think I found the spell that reveals our Animagus forms."
"Do you think if we know them it will be easier to make the change?"
James shrugged. "That's what the book said. I'm willing to try. I mean, for fuck's sake, Southpaw, we've been stuck for three months."
"I know, I know."
"Try it after the trip then?" Sirius shrugged, and then nodded just as they approached the high street.
The town of Godric's Hollow was fairly lively considering the temperature. James begged off to the small cafe and Sirius walked as quickly as he could in the tight, overwhelming heat. He paused once, to lust after a motorbike in an alley, but otherwise made straight for the bookshop. Sirius took a deep breath before he opened the door. The interior of the shop looked the same, yet Sirius would swear that the books had multiplied overnight. The bell rang above him and Sirius sighed at the smell and coolness of the store. This time, he did not pretend to be looking for a book, but made for the counter.
The teller was empty and there seemed to be no one around. Sirius frowned and snooped around the counter space. There were piles of books everywhere, but Sirius saw no sign of the wizarding books he had seen before, the golden-eyed boy's books.
"Well fuck," he mumbled and looked again through the nearest stack of books.
"May I help you?" Sirius stopped his searching. An old man appeared from the door behind the counter. He had a long, wooden cane and an incredibly long beard, his face was weathered and his shaking hands reminded Sirius of Ollivander and maybe a bit of Dumbledore.
"Um, I don't know." Sirius replied. "There was a boy here before that I was talking with-"
"You must be Sirius." The old man nodded his head and turned to the bookshelf behind the counter.
"How do you know me?" Sirius' hand found its way to his wand in his trouser pocket.
"He left these for you." The man turned back and handed Sirius a book.
"Who?" Sirius ran his hand over the old book; it was heavy and smooth but worn beneath his fingertips. The spine was cracked in so many lines it was impossible to read the title or author. It wasn't very thick.
"Remus. They're from his own collection, I imagine because he's scribbled all over the pages again. He really loves his books, so I assume you're to bring them back."
Remus.
Sirius held the book in his hand. The old man kept talking, but Sirius tuned him out. The cover was a dull blue colour, its pages yellow and soft. Sirius imagined Remus touching the pages with his hands, laced with scars and reverence. The edges of the hardback were torn and thread hung off in strings. He shivered with anticipation and wished Remus was there to give the book to him in person.
When Sirius finally looked up from the book, the old man was retreating towards the door behind the counter. "Wait!" The old man turned back, and Sirius wanted to ask so many things but they all seemed jammed somewhere inside his throat. "I'm to pick up an order for Mrs. Potter!"
Sirius practically yelled the sentence and he smiled apologetically. The old man looked surprised in response but nodded and disappeared into the back of the shop. It was not long before the old man returned, handed Sirius the books and disappeared again into the back room. Sirius took out his wand and shrunk the book and returned his wand and the book to his pocket. Mrs. Potter had only ordered three books, so Sirius carried them out into the heat leaving a quick note for Remus.
Remus,
Thanks.
Can't wait,
Sirius
He walked slowly down the street, taking his time to reach the cafe where James was. Sirius' thoughts wandered as he strolled, the heat dampening his skin more swiftly than he would have liked.
Where did the boy- Remus, live? It wasn't as if the village was a big community, but he'd never seen Remus around. And why didn't he go to school? Sirius frowned, his hand seeking the shrunk book in his pocket. He desperately wanted to see what it contained, but not in public or even with James. Remus was his discovery, his secret. The cafe came into view and Sirius ran a hand over the book one last time. He would wait to look at it, just like he would wait to ask Mrs. Potter about Remus and wait to see Remus again. The thought brought a burning image of Remus' eyes to the forefront of Sirius' mind. He shivered despite the heat.
"Southpaw!" Sirius squinted to see not only James sitting at the table outside the cafe, but a small blonde boy as well.
"Petey!" Sirius jogged the rest of the way and embraced Peter. The energy that the sun had taken away earlier had been returned by the book in his pocket. The three shook hands and sat down. James motioned for a second round of drinks and the conversation shifted from niceties to Animagus plans. The shrunk book eased out of Sirius' mind.
<3<3<3
Sirius stared at the ceiling. He had retreated to his bedroom an hour ago, mostly because Peter had to be home by midnight, but when he last checked the clock it read two o'clock in the morning.
Sleep was the last thing on his mind.
And Sirius was sure he wasn't alone. It was the full moon tonight; it glared through the window and lit up his room. He had always liked the moon, especially when it was full. It had calmed him when he had been locked up inside his mother's madhouse. But staying at the Potters', the moon took a different tone. The whole house hummed with it, and Sirius knew that James and Mr. Potter were tossing and turning in their beds as well.
Because Mrs. Potter was out, and had being going out during the full moon for the past thirty-five years. She was a Healer and spent her time when the moon was full caring for werewolves.
Sirius shivered at the thought and turned over, feeling slightly ashamed of himself. He had never understood why she left to care for the creatures, but he had a feeling it was an old duty. A duty she was glad to claim. Her eyes were always sad before she left and no matter what kind of mischief James and him were getting up to, it always startled him when she packed up her bags and kissed them all goodbye before disappearing into the late day sun.
Mr. Potter said she'd been caring for werewolves since before they met and because of her work, many of them had moved to the outer areas of Godric's Hollow just to be near her careful hand. She'd been caring for many of them for most of their lives. It was why she became an Animagus.
Sirius smiled into the dark. His mind was filled with images of Mrs. Potter, transforming into a huge grizzly bear to tend to whimpering werewolf cubs. He knew it wasn't exactly true to life, but it helped ease his mind during nights when the moon was full, when he knew she was out there risking her life. He wanted desperately to ask her who she transformed for every night, who she loved so much that thirty-five years ago she made a decision to devote a large part of herself to.
But Sirius never asked.
Tonight had been slightly different. He, Peter and James hadn't made it back before sundown and Mrs. Potter had already left. James and Mr. Potter had shared a brief look of worry before the three of them had disappeared into James' room. The old barn, where they usually stayed when working on mischievous (roughly translated: illegal) projects, was off limits during the full moon.
The idea had come to them with good ol' McGonagall, when she accused them of breaking into her office (which, surprisingly, they didn't do). Peter had said it was impossible. James promised they'd tried, but failed (appallingly true). And Sirius had claimed that the only way they could get into her coveted office was to crawl through the holes in the old castle walls like mice.
An idea was born.
If they could actually transform into animals, then they could considerably widen their reign of mayhem over the school (and any other city they moved to after seventh year). It had taken them years and several trips to the Restricted Section of the library to understand the magic and theory. Peter still barely had a grasp on what was going on, but Sirius could feel how close they were, could feel the magic hum through him every time they read over spells and tried to make their bodies morph and change into something more primal. They hadn't managed to change yet, but Sirius felt like the day wasn't too far in the future.
They had made decent progress. James had found a spell in his mother's library that made them realize the form of their Animagus by altering their Patronus. Sirius' Patronus had always been a raven, black and swooping, and he'd spent the most part of his years at Hogwarts hating it. The Blacks had always had bird Patronuses and he was no different in that respect. It made him ill to think he still had any connection, except for his name, to the Noble and Ancient House of Black. But his Patronus had changed tonight and, according to the book, if the magic really was flowing inside him, then the Patronus would keep its shape permanently.
Sirius turned again, trying to get comfortable in his sheets. The thought of his mother's face, if she knew that even his Patronus was betraying her, made a grin stretch across his face. He made a grab for his wand and quietly murmured, "Expecto Patronum". A bright, white light spilled from his wand and formed a huge, shaggy dog. The ears flopped as the dog bounded around the room on silent paws. Sirius watched the silver mutt for a while before it settled onto the floor, hooked its left paw over its nose and disappeared without a trace.
James had joked it was more of a grim than a family-friendly dog. But then again, James' Patronus had shifted into a stag, rack included, and Peter's took on the shape of a rat, tail included, and the jokes ran heavy for both forms. They also had a good laugh at the coincidence of Sirius' nickname and his predicted Animagus form.
Sirius smiled again in the moonlight.
Yes. His nickname began in third year. Sirius had just discovered puberty and the beauty of a wank. So, Sirius' love affair with his right hand had begun. Except, he was only a third year and silencing spells weren't his specialty, neither was subtly. And so he got caught many times and by a variety of people. But for some reason it only made his prick harden more. Sadly, he had wanked so often that he had developed what the Muggles called Carpal Tunnel. But that had not stopped him. He had simply switched hands; with much complaining and conferencing with lefties. And one day, Lily Evans had caught him red-handed, laughed hysterically for a full seven minutes and then squealed the famous words: "Didn't know you were a southpaw, Black!"
Sirius cock twitched at the memory and his mind (and nether regions) went to Remus from the book shop and the book in his bedside table. He desperately wanted to look at the book again, but he'd spent over two hours reading through the poetry since he'd been in his room. The old book was a miscellaneous collection of poetry, nothing predominantly special about the book or the poems. Except for the space between printed page and the worn yellow edge, those parts of the book were exceedingly special.
They were filled Remus' handwriting.
It was a neat scrawl, thin and elegant, written in Muggle pencil. They were tiny notes, sometimes not really significant to the poem at all, but Sirius had spent more time picking them apart then actually reading the poetry. His thoughts strayed to how beautiful they looked on the page, like they belonged there.
Sirius blinked and looked down at his hand, which had found its way into his trousers and was stroking the hard flesh there. He resigned himself a creepy, obsessed pervert and then shucked his pants, leaving them in a heap at the end of his bed. His left hand moved lightly along the length of his cock, while his right strayed from his chest, tripping patterns over his belly before making circles on his inner thighs. Sirius closed his eyes and imagined Remus' hands.
He moaned aloud at the thought.
Just the thought of the scarred hands had Sirius gasping for breath underneath his own ministrations. He squeezed his eyes shut and imagined Remus' mouth dragging across the plane of his stomach and shaping words against his inner thighs, creating fucking symphonies around his cock. In his mind's eyes, Sirius imagined Remus' face set in deep concentration and his golden eyes, wide with lust, meeting his as he took him deep inside his mouth.
Sirius came with a strangled cry, his left hand frantically pumping his cock while his right hand dug crescent moon indentions into the flesh of his hips. He rode out his orgasm, thinking of what Remus' body would feel like beneath the pads of his fingertips and the solid, all consuming flame of those golden eyes.
With his climax came sleep and Sirius let the image of Remus and his book chase the excitement of the day and the worry of the moon away, to make room for colourful dreams of running though fields and the sound of barking laughter.
<3<3<3
Sirius woke to chaos.
The entire house seemed to be screaming for the insanity of the world and Sirius shot out of bed and into a clean pair of shorts, completely ignoring his come-stained body as he raced down the stairs.
He never knew a body could bleed so much. It was as if the whole kitchen was red, the tile soaking in the blood seeping from the corner of the room. The white walls reflected the harsh colour and Sirius was dizzy at the sight. For a moment, blind panic ripped through him as he took in Mrs. Potter's crouching form. But as he stepped inside the kitchen, ready to rush to her aide, he noticed that she was leaning over a limp body.
"Sirius." He couldn't stop staring. The body was thin and covered with blood, curled into a tiny ball of trembling flesh. He had never felt more compassion for any person than he did the stranger bleeding on the floor. He was brought back from his thoughts by Mrs. Potter's stern voice.
"Pull yourself together, Sirius. I need you to help me." Mrs. Potter's voice was forced calm, desperation and urgency lying just below the surface. "Fetch your wand."
Sirius nodded and bounded back up the stairs. His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. His mind just kept chanting: please don't die and there's a werewolf on the kitchen floor.
He grabbed his wand and took the stairs down three at a time, narrowly missing the urn at the bottom of the stairs as he rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen. Mrs. Potter had cleaned the blood up, but Sirius could swear he could feel it between his toes as he walked over to her and the bleeding figure. He could tell it was male and the skin not scarred and bloody was smooth, as if it belonged to a boy. A boy. He couldn't see his face since it was tucked almost completely into his body, only hair matted with blood and the surface of his back and legs were visible. Mrs. Potter had silent tears running down her face, yet her wand hand moved smoothly over the open wounds on the boy's (werewolf's) flesh. Most of the wounds were gaping and Sirius could see white bone underneath all the blood. Sirius stared, shock and horror outweighing the urge to vomit.
"Get a wet cloth and put some Muggle latex gloves on. They are underneath the sink." Mrs. Potter didn't look at him, only spoke in a low voice that seemed to settle his stomach and propel his legs to move. He pulled on the gloves, his hands shaking, and wet four flannels before returning to her side. She was moving her wand across a particularly large wound on the boy's hip and lower back. The marks there were undeniably made by teeth, as if he had been gnawed on, or had chewed on himself.
"Wha-What happened?"
Mrs. Potter shook her head and continued to knit up the wounds. It was almost beautiful, the way her wand seemed to meld the flesh back together; leaving only silver scars and painful memories. "Wipe off the blood."
Sirius choked back a sob as he began to clean the boy's skin. It seemed like blood was everywhere, and if Sirius didn't get it off soon enough, it would dry there and never come out. His first wipe elicited a whimper from the body beneath him, and Sirius was gentler with the second. They worked silently on the boy until the expanse of flesh was clean and whole, except for the more extensive wounds that didn't want to heal and remained partly open. Those wounds Mrs. Potter wrapped in gauze, the red staining the white, then again in more gauze before strips of linen. Mrs. Potter shook her head when she was finished with the boy's mangled calf and shifted, scooting closer to the boy's head.
"I have to turn you, love." She pressed a hand to the back of his neck, her tears falling into his hair. "I know it hurts but I don't have a choice." Her hands went to the boys shoulders and Sirius took his legs; they slowly stretched his body out. The boy silently screamed, his voice too hoarse from use to actually produce sound. Sirius felt his own tears make salty tracks down his cheeks.
Sirius worked from the feet up. He wasn't ready to know, not yet. He had to rinse and rewet the flannels several times, but the boy's front side didn't seem nearly so bad until he reached the boy's thighs. One touch of the cloth and the body jerked in a spasm of pain. Mrs. Potter hissed at him. Sirius stared.
"It's his bite mark. It runs deeper than any of other scars, Sirius." He let out a sob and cleaned the area around the mark, it was gashed deeply too, except Sirius couldn't see bone just layers upon layers of scar tissue. Mrs. Potter and he traded places, but Sirius avoided looking at the boy's face, just worked methodically around the areas Mrs. Potter had already cleaned and bandaged.
Sirius took one of the boy's hands in his own. They were long and had a lattice of scars over them. The nails had been bitten down to the quick, but their beauty was undeniable. He wiped them clean of the blood that tainted them. Coloured evidence is what Sirius wiped away, of events unseen in the brightest nights of the year.
The boy appeared to be waking and, Sirius could feel eyelashes brush his bare belly as he leaned over the boy to clean up and down his sides. An occasional groan escaped the boy's mouth, but no words. Mrs. Potter finished her work, sat up and wiped tears from her face with the sleeve of her robe. Sirius took one look at her and forced himself to look at the boy's face. One glance gave Sirius the feeling that he knew him, but of course he did. Godric's Hollow was a small village. But Sirius couldn't place the identity with all the blood.
He took a fresh cloth and gently removed the blood from his cheeks and nose, finding freckles there. He uncovered a long gash, turned scar, by the boy's temple and several scars under his chin. Sirius pressed the cloth to the boy's mouth and he groaned aloud. The sound vibrated through Sirius' body and reminded him of his state of undress.
"He's almost awake. I'm going to get a pain potion." Mrs. Potter disappeared from Sirius' peripheral vision. He rubbed softly at the boy's forehead. There were fingerprints there, as if the blood was simply paint, but Sirius knew that the boy had probably splayed his hand against his face in pain. Sirius wiped at the fluttering eyelids and worked a cloth over the boy's hair.
Sirius' hands stilled. His mind was quickly catching up to the moment, the lithe, scarred body paired with breathtaking hands. Long eyelashes and freckles, plump lips and sharp cheek bones dissolved into an image altogether different and yet, continuously the same. Sirius' breath left his chest and a hand curled around the boy’s hand as the boy's eyes fluttered open to expose pools of gold.
Sirius gripped the shaking hand in his own trembling fingers. The eyes flashed pain, then confusion before shame and regret seeped into them. Sirius felt his insides rupture and turn, a myriad of emotions surged through him, yet he felt trapped, not by the slacking grip of the boy's hand around his own, but by the boy's eyes that were incapable of concealing truth or raw splendor.
He held the gaze, his body rebelling against his mind's frantic explosion of panic. Sirius did not look away before he pressed his lips against the boy's- against Remus' lips. It was chaste, but filled Sirius' body with warmth and confusion, he pulled away and Remus' eyes fluttered closed as his mind drifted into unconsciousness.
Sirius fled the kitchen out the back door; barely catching sight of Mrs. Potter's confused face as she leaned over the boy on the floor. As Mrs. Potter leaned over Remus, the werewolf, Sirius' ran, Elizabeth Browning screaming in his head:
Or thoughts of Heaven we weep at. Nature's lute
Sounds on, behind this door so closely shut,
A strange wild music to the prisoner's ears
And Remus' scrawl beside it: We are all prisoners of our own war.
<3<3<3
Funnily enough, Sirius didn't die, as he thought he would in the moments before fleeing the house.
He wasn't sure what he expected after he ran away, across the open land of the Potter estate, through the neighbouring woods and into the cemetery ground; shame, anger, desperation, maybe even hate. Sirius did not expect to change into a shaggy black dog and run the pain away.
But he did.
And Sirius ran, all four paws pounding the ground as if it were the moon or love or the ugly welt in the pit of his stomach; as if the ground was Remus.
He ran all the way up the high street in the early morning light. He jumped in puddles and barreled down rubbish bins before he reached the top of the street. The book shop just loomed there and Sirius stretched, bringing his paw to scratch behind his ear. It was strange being canine; all the emotions and thoughts of being human were there, like he just fantasized about it in his doggy mind, but all the confusion and painful emotion seemed easier to deal with in the simple mind of his new form.
Sirius curled up and slept on the front step of the book shop.
Hours later, he woke and slunk into the shadows as he thought about changing back. It took him a few moments of thinking, a couple of moments of sheer panic (what if I can't go back?) and then a few to calm him down before he just eased into human form. Sirius scratched behind his ear.
The book shop wasn't open, so Sirius just broke through the window to open the door. His wand was probably back at the house. He made his way through the store and hopped the counter. His fingers thumbed through the books on the shelf. He looked and found the ones with Remus' handwriting. He took as many as he could carry and left the store.
The walk back was more excruciating. The house was barely alive when he walked in. James was sitting sleepily in the kitchen and Mr. Potter was reading the paper. Both looked blissfully unaware and Sirius felt a small bit of resentment for each of them. He ignored James' sleepy 'hello' and Mr. Potter's raised brow.
It hurt and twisted uncomfortably inside him as he walked by the spare bedroom that held Remus, but he didn't die. No. If he was going to be honest with anyone, he didn't feel like he was dying at all. Sirius Black had never felt more alive in his life.
Mrs. Potter was asleep in the chair beside Remus, and Sirius slipped into the room. Remus was asleep, pain and fatigue were not far from his features. But despite Sirius knowing exactly what Remus was, he still wanted to know who he was. He surprised even himself. He looked down at the books in his arms and set them down at the foot of the bed. Sirius prodded Mrs. Potter awake and walked her back to her room, she was too sleepy to argue and Sirius kissed her forehead with promises before he returned to the spare room.
The chair looked uncomfortable and Sirius felt warmth rush through him at the thought of a bed. Remus looked peaceful, despite the bandages Sirius knew lurked under the cool press of Mrs. Potter's sheets. He could have walked down for his wand, but Sirius didn't. His hands ran over the blankets covering Remus' legs. It was strange, how someone so beautiful could be such a beast. Sirius smiled at the thought of his own life.
It was a tight fit but Sirius managed to climb into bed with the boy, molding his body as closely as he could, careful not to poke or put pressure on any of the wounds. Sirius thought of the open wounds, blood pooling and spreading, and looked at Remus' face. Sirius traced his thumb over Remus' lips, a small smile appearing beneath his finger. Remus slept on.
Sirius felt his heart tug him towards something more canine, but he pressed himself into the pillow and let sleep overtake him.
<3<3<3
William Blake, Thomas Hardy and Oscar Wilde got Sirius through the next day. Remus slept most of the day and in the lull of awkward conversation, Sirius read aloud the printed verse, but kept the margin comments to himself. He learned a little bit about the book shop clerk, and only spoke a few words to him when Sirius spooned him some soup. He rarely moved from his perch curled around Remus.
Swinburne, Emerson and Coleridge bored him to sleep on the second day. There weren't enough 'Remus comments' to keep him awake and he learned that Remus didn't really like the three poets all that much anyway. But when Remus read Swinburne's 'Love and Sleep' aloud, Sirius pressed a kiss to the boy's clothed shoulder and fell back asleep. They talked about their families over dinner in bed, and Sirius wrote Lily a letter to amend the strange wooing ways of James. James had announced, just as Remus was falling asleep, that he had sent Lily her favourite jam in proclamation of her bearing his children. Remus chuckled into Sirius' arm and brought a bit of jiggery back to Sirius' organs.
Sirius learned on day three that Wordsworth was true to his name, but that Remus still liked him. Sirius fell asleep while Remus was explaining Wordsworth's devotion to his sister (hinting towards incest and it made Sirius think of his family), but listened carefully to his explanations of Yeats and Kipling. Thackeray made Remus laugh and Sirius read it to him while he was eating just to see the smile on his face when Remus tried not to show his teeth in his smile.
Sirius also learned about werewolves on the third day, and Sirius shared his new trick with his new friend. James walked in on Sirius as he was shifting back into human form and Mrs. Potter had to make him tea laced with booze because she was worried he had started seeing puppies. Sirius laughed into the soft skin of Remus' neck and inhaled honey and hazelnut.
Day four dawned and Remus walked around the room a couple of times, limping on his right leg. Sirius bit his lip and marveled at all the scars that marred the boy's back. It took all of James' piteously heterosexual comments to wilt his erection, but only one poem from e.e. cummings to have it come raging back. Sirius tried not to press against Remus' thigh, but it was there and warm and Remus was looking at him and he caved. It might have been the way he said, "but mr can you maybe listen" but it was definitely "(can you give a) listen to who may you be any how? down to smoking found butts" that made him come all over his pants and Remus' pyjama clad thigh.
"We've only kissed once," Remus said and Sirius laughed himself to sleep.
<3<3<3
They moved out of the sanctuary of the spare room and invaded the porch swing. Sirius wanted to climb into Remus' lap, but stopped himself (and his crazy, dancing organs) from getting too excited and settled into the crook of the wood. Remus sipped his tea and Sirius couldn't stop telling him everything about himself. Remus looked at him like he already knew him, and Sirius kissed him again, just as the sun was beginning to heat the air around them and just as James was coming out of the house. He fell down four steps and stubbed his toe. Sirius laughed against Remus' soft lips and James retaliated by telling Remus the story of how exactly Sirius got his nickname.
"Oh yes. I can imagine that being very true." Remus laughed, it sounded like rain and the turning of pages, and then caught Sirius' eyes. All Sirius could see was bottomless pools of gold and trust and bloody twinkling. He barely resisted shagging him.
They talked about the Canons before they moved back to the spare room for dinner. The sun was sliding down the sky when Remus tried to read to him again from a worn copy of e.e. cummings. Sirius paid more attention with each verse.
"why did you go
little fourpaws?
you forgot to shut
your big eyes." Sirius licked Remus' hands, suckled on fingertips and nibbled on wrists.
"where did you go?
like little kittens
are all the leaves
which open in the rain." He laved at Remus' belly button, just unwrapped from stiff old bandages, and dipped to lick at the golden-eyed boy's cock. Remus moaned when he said rain and Sirius moaned too.
"little kittens who
are called spring,
is what we stroke
maybe asleep?" Sirius swallowed Remus' cock and Remus tangled fingers in his hair, moaning "Sirius" instead of 'asleep'.
"do you know?or maybe did
something go away
ever so quietly
when we weren't looking." Remus came hard. Sirius barely heard him finish the poem before he was coming, untouched, in his pants. They exchanged lazy kisses and Sirius swore there was nothing better in the world.
The morning didn't get to break through the window panes before Sirius had already flipped open to a page that said; "I've been waiting for you" in Remus' scrawl, licked Remus' bite wound and whispered filthy bits of poetry into Remus' neck.
"i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing." Remus did an incredible thing with his tongue and suddenly Sirius had to finish the poem.
"Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does," Sirius moaned the last sentence and twisted because fuck, but Remus knew exactly what he was doing.
"i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling" Sirius stopped and flailed. Remus was smiling and moving his mouth along Sirius' thighs along with the poem.
"-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you," Remus disappeared between Sirius legs and Sirius' world exploded. Remus was kissing that part of him and Sirius thought he might come from the look of those scars against his skin; of just Remus against his skin.
"i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs," Sirius was pretty sure he said "fuck" at 'flesh' because Remus had a tongue and three fingers up his arse and his mind, organs and cock were doing a bloody Irish jig because of a werewolf.
"and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new" Sirius gasped and clutched at Remus' face as he entered him. Sirius wrapped his legs around thin, piston heavy hips and sucked hard on Remus' neck (hazelnut, parchment, sweat). It was smooth and raw and igniting. And Sirius thought that maybe this was what he was made for. Made to watch Remus' sore body sweat and move into him, to need Remus to look at him and kiss him at the same time is exactly what he had been waiting for. Remus shifted and Sirius' world was 'cummings' and scars and gold.
Sirius watched Remus come, warmth spindling inside of him as Remus tilted his head back, exposing a column of smooth neck blotched with marks of Sirius' lips, and he watched with suddenly seeing eyes as Remus' hips flew, curling into him like they were waiting for him. Sirius gave a throaty moan before he blacked out, no pun intended.
<3<3<3
Sirius woke up tangled in Remus.
"Been waintn' por mef?" He snuggled into the soft, world-hiding armpit of Remus and twisted his fingers into Remus' sides
"Yes. Waiting for you."
James ruined their moment of possible morning sex (and obvious declarations of love) when he burst into the room as a fucking stag.
Mrs. Potter brought breakfast, said she should buy a shotgun because the deer in the area were just out of control and left a collar by the jam.
It had 'Southpaw' engraved on one side the other said; 'if found return to owner: Moony'.
