296 Ways to Seduce a Teacher: Ch. 10
Title: 296 Ways to Seduce a Teacher
Author: _demonsblade_
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Rating: R
Genre: AU, romance, drama, angst, fluff, humor
Warning: Slash, mild chanslash (6-year diff.), boy/man snogging, boy/man sexual situations, mild violence, strong language
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: All characters © J.K. Rowling
Summary: AU. Remus has been hired to tutor the Black heir, Sirius. But it seems Sirius has a few things to teach him, as well. Can this possibly the start of a friendship...or something more? And what will happen if the Blacks find out?
Teaser:
Breath tickled his lips, smelling of an intoxicating mixture of spice and saliva and an essence that was just purely Sirius.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Sirius asked against his lips.
If you haven't read the previous chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9
“Did you ever correct that paper I wrote on Greece, sir?”
The question was sprung on him at the end of Arithmancy, their last lesson for the day. Sirius was rolling up the parchment he had taken notes on and Remus was arranging his books back on his shelf.
Since the night when Sirius seemed to have worked out the truth of his relationship with Lily, things had almost returned to normal between them. The incident hadn’t been mentioned or even alluded to. Sirius hadn’t tried to pull anything, and so it was with an anxious heart that Remus turned around to face him, expecting the very worst.
“I did correct it,” Remus answered as lightly as he could. “I thought I gave it back to you. Didn’t I?”
“No, sir. If you don’t mind, could you tell me what you thought of it?” Sirius was giving him a shrewd look, a half-smile at his lips. The tone of his voice was unctuous, a saccharine smooth that made Remus narrow his eyes in suspicion.
Remus swallowed. “It was very well written-well researched. In all honesty, it was one of the best essays I’ve read in a long time.”
He dearly hoped that Sirius would just leave it at that and not push the issue. But it seemed luck was not on his side today.
“I meant what you thought of the content-the ideas discussed in it.”
“What-what ideas do you mean?” he asked, turning his back to Sirius and making quite a show of looking for the right spot to put Numerology and Gramatica.
“Paederasty,” said Sirius simply. Remus winced. “I think the whole idea of institutionalized homosexuality in those times was fascinating.”
“Yes. Fascinating. Quite.” Remus wedged the book he was holding in between New Theory of Numerology and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, resorting to pounding it in with his fist when it wouldn’t slide easily.
“I mean,” Sirius went on, raising his voice just slightly over Remus’s shuffling, “the way that homosexuality was accepted as an intrinsic and necessary part of life-it’s quite a different way of thinking compared to the fear and disgust with which wizarding England regards it today. Don’t you say so?”
Remus nodded absently, fastidiously arranging his notes into a neat pile. It was quite odd to hear Sirius sounding like a textbook, but at least it was much better than him sounding like the sweetest sin in the world.
“I’m curious as to what your opinion is about the issue, Professor.”
Sighing, Remus put his notes aside and turned to face Sirius, leaning back against the desk. He hoped Sirius couldn’t hear the loud hammering of his heart or notice the reddening of his cheeks. “What issue would that be, Sirius?”
“Homosexuality in general,” Sirius said with a smirk. “And paederasty in particular.”
“I think,” Remus said guardedly, choosing his words with care, “that sexuality is an important part of the human psyche-no matter what that sexuality might be. I don’t think there is anything wrong with being attracted to one’s own sex. It has been happening in animals for as long as animals have existed, and in humans for as long as humans have existed.” Sirius opened his mouth, but Remus talked right over him. “However, I am not sure what to think about paederasty. I have always believed that in any romantic relationship, the share of power should be equal. That is hard to do when one partner is double the age of the other.”
“But what about if the partners were, say, five or six years apart? Wouldn’t an egalitarian relationship be easier to achieve then?”
“That depends, Sirius.” Remus could tell Sirius was trying to catch his eye; he stubbornly kept his gaze on the wall behind his pupil. “In terms of paederasty between, say, a teacher and his pupil or a master and his apprentice or even a mentor and his protégé, one person holds the reigns of power, no matter what the age difference. And in any case,” he added firmly, “a five or six year difference is large when one of the potential partners is still a teenager.”
“But the difference will shrink with time,” Sirius returned.
“Only assuming that the relationship survives that long. And even then, when two people get into the pattern of sharing power unequally, it is hard to shift to an egalitarian relationship. Old habits die hard, to quote an old saying.”
Sirius was silent for a moment, and Remus was just starting to relax when he spoke. “But what-what if the relationship was egalitarian in the first place?”
“That’s quite hard to accomplish,” Remus said harshly.
“It can be done.”
“Sirius-”
“You’re like me, aren’t you?”
Remus stared at him for a few seconds, as confused at the abrupt change in topic as he was at the question itself.
“You’re like me,” Sirius repeated, gesturing to himself. “You’re attracted to blokes…aren’t you?”
He could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. “I-you-Lily-” he sputtered uselessly.
“Lily is not your fiancée.” Sirius stood up from his chair and took a step towards him. “She’s your friend-maybe your best friend. Nothing more.”
“But-but she’s-”
Sirius placed his hands on the desk-on either side of Remus’s hip-and leaned close. “Liar.”
“I-what?” Remus choked out.
“You lied to me,” Sirius said with a self-satisfied smirk. “You tried to tell me Lily was your fiancée.” Sirius looked solemnly into his eyes. “She’s not.”
Remus opened his mouth to object, but Sirius cut him off.
“Don’t bother to try and defend yourself. I know. I have useful connections at Hogwarts.”
“But I-”
“You aren’t dating. You aren’t engaged. You are attracted”-Sirius leaned even closer, and Remus tilted his head slightly so that Sirius’s breath tickled his neck and prepared himself to hear “to me”-“to blokes.”
Remus felt the hot, wet puff of a breath against the pulse point of his neck and the soft brush of lips. The next three words were murmured against his skin.
“Am I right?”
He didn’t know at what point he had closed his eyes, but without his vision, his sense of touch seemed to have intensified tenfold. A gentle trail of almost-kisses on his neck. The sliding of strong hands around his waist. Two legs pressing flush against his own.
The lips traveled up his jaw, coming to rest on his chin. Without meaning to Remus arched his body upward into Sirius. The hands gripping the desk were shaking and so cold he could barely feel them, but he didn’t spare a thought on them.
“Remus,” Sirius whispered, his mouth now hovering above Remus’s.
Breath tickled his lips, smelling of an intoxicating mixture of spice and saliva and an essence that was just purely Sirius.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Sirius asked against his lips.
“N-no…no,” he said breathlessly.
The hands on his back slipped up his shirt, exploring the skin beneath. Remus gasped and clutched the desk even harder, straining to support his weakening knees.
“You’re lying to me again,” Sirius said, tracing Remus’s bottom lip with his tongue. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
“No,” he said, his voice stronger this time-more confident. “No. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t kiss me.”
“If you’re sure.”
And suddenly the lips were gone, the arms around his waist had disappeared, and the pressure against his thighs was no longer there. His eyes fluttered open.
Sirius stood back from him at a respectable distance, face blank except for a small, smug grin.
“If you’re sure,” Sirius repeated, grin widening somewhat.
The problem was, he wasn’t sure at all. And although Remus would have rather fed himself to a hippogriff than admit it to Sirius, he privately knew that he had been about a hair’s width away from giving in.
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On Saturday night, Remus suggested they eat out.
“There’s an amazing Parisian restaurant on the next block,” he said. “You’ve been cooped up in the house all week.”
“But aren’t I supposed to be in hiding?” Sirius asked doubtfully.
“You aren’t on the run from the law, Sirius,” he said, laughing slightly. “I’ve already asked Professor Dumbledore.
And so as the sun sunk into the horizon on Saturday, Sirius found himself in front of Remus’s bedroom mirror, his trunk open on the floor beside him. Remus had excused himself earlier for what he had called “a small visit” with Dumbledore and hadn’t yet returned. Sirius had noticed that Remus seemed to take a lot of these “small visits,” sometimes with Dumbledore and sometimes with Lily.
By an implicit consensus, neither of them mentioned what had happened the afternoon before. But Sirius felt hopeful. Remus was dead set against any type of relationship, for sure. But, reflected Sirius, he would turn seventeen in six months and would then be legally of age.
He checked his reflection critically in the mirror. Sirius had decided to dress up in his Muggle best for tonight. No matter what Remus wanted to call it, he, Sirius, was calling it a date-at least in his mind. He grabbed his wand and performed a charm to make hot steam spurt out of the end, which he used to smooth out a crease in his shirt. His hair was freshly washed, dried, and clasped into a tail at the nape of his neck. After some consideration, he decided to also don the bit of Muggle jewelry James had gotten him the Christmas after he had told him about his sexuality.
“But it’s a-a-a necklace!” Sirius had sputtered indignantly, holding the offending thing at arms length.
“The Muggle bloke in the shop called it a choker,” James had said with a smirk. “I hear all the poofs are wearing it.”
That remark had earned him a cuff on the side of the head, but there was no denying that Sirius had grown quite attached to the thing over the past year. This was the first time he had actually worn it, however, and he looked himself over self-consciously. The black suede and metal star hanging from it felt foreign and strange (not to mention cold) against his skin, but the overall visual effect was stunning, if he said so himself.
“He’s going have a hard time keeping his hands off you,” said the mirror appraisingly. And then it added in a somewhat conspiratorial whisper, “He hasn’t had a decent date since he bought me.”
“Er…thanks,” he told the mirror uncertainly.
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Remus knew it had been a mistake to take Sirius out as soon as he set foot in the apartment after his Order meeting. Sirius was waiting for him on the sofa, dressed in a silver shirt and black trousers-the same black trousers, Remus suspected, he had worn the day in the study when they had kissed for the first time; they hugged his angles and curves with a sensuality that was almost obscene. The shirt made his eyes look lighter, brighter, more alive, more alluring. His hair had been pulled back, but a few unruly strands still hung over his eyes in a way that made Remus’s fingers itch to push them away. A silver star hung from a leather thong tied around his neck. Remus suspected that Sirius was one of the very privileged few that could carry the look with aplomb and grace.
“How was your visit?” Sirius asked.
“It was all right, I suppose,” he said, brushing soot off his robes. “I’m going to take a quick shower and then we’ll be off.”
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The streetlamps were beginning to glow when they finally stepped out into the frosty autumn air. All around them couples walked hand in hand-young, giggly, starry-eyed teenagers lost in their own worlds and old married couples with graying hair and squealing children. The dusty periwinkle of dusk stretched over them, a few lone stars spattered along the otherwise unbroken vastness. Restaurants and stores on the sides of the cobblestone streets spilled light and laughter and warm, delicious aromas out onto the passerby.
Sirius thought the setting seemed the perfection of romance, the rose-tinted kaleidoscope of dining by the fireside that invited soft touches and warm kisses. He wanted to say something to that effect, but decided against it for Remus’s sake. The man seemed nervous enough as it was, shooting sidelong glances at Sirius whenever he thought Sirius wasn’t looking.
“It’s a beautiful night, don’t you think?” Sirius asked, trying to break the silence that had fallen since their departure from the flat.
Remus seemed to be in deep thought and didn’t answer immediately. He looked up at the sky. His chest puffed out as he took in a deep breath, eyes closed. It looked to Sirius as if he was breathing in the night itself. When he looked down, he caught Sirius’s eye and smiled warmly.
“Yes,” he said, looking Sirius straight in the eye. “It’s beautiful.”
If he had been any less shocked, Sirius would have asked him exactly what he was referring to. But as it was, he was startled enough at the directness of the comment and the easiness with which Remus smiled. Maybe the romantic atmosphere was finally getting to Remus. Or just maybe he was always happier outside in the fresh air. Either way, Sirius wasn’t going to waste his opportunity for a little fun.
The dinner was mostly uneventful, except for the waiter spilling bouillabaisse all down his front when he tripped over a child’s outstretched foot. After everything that had happened between them, Sirius was surprised at how normal the conversation was. He had expected the last two months to lie between them like a vast, rotting crater filled to the brim with That-Which-We-Do-Not-Speak-Of. But in reality, he thought it would seem to any observer as if they were the closest of friends having a true heart-to-heart.
They talked about some of the topics they had covered in their lessons over the last week. Remus told Sirius a story about his childhood, when he had tried to ride his father’s broomstick and had ended up with a dislocated shoulder and a few broken teeth. Sirius told Remus about some of the more docile pranks he and James had pulled over their past five years at Hogwarts.
“You actually charmed the Slytherin first years to have multicolored hair for three weeks?” Remus asked incredulously. He seemed to be halfway between amusement at their creativity and exasperation at their rule breaking.
“The hair smelled like rotten eggs, too,” added Sirius. “That part was Peter’s idea.”
Remus burst out laughing. Shaking his head good-naturedly, he chuckled and cut a small portion out of his quiche. After a while the laughter died down. Remus looked up. He was frowning. There was intensity in his gaze that Sirius had rarely ever seen.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you miss Hogwarts and I’m sorry for the way your parents treated you.”
Somehow that earnest apology only made Sirius want to spill the tears he had tried so hard to keep in. He blinked the stinging out of his eyes and gave Remus a watery smile.
“It’s all right,” he said with as much sincerity as he could. “If things hadn’t happened the way they did, I would’ve never met you.”
Sirius was pleased to see Remus cough and blush and avert his eyes. It was, he thought, quite adorable.
When they made their way back from the restaurant, night had fallen in all its dark glory. The couples were still around, hidden in little lovers’ nooks and oblivious to the world around them. But there were also grungy-looking men clad in leather and long overcoats lounging by the side of dingy pubs. On one dimly lit street-which they incidentally had to pass through-the men stood in loose groups of four or five, smoking and conversing in undertones.
Sirius shivered and pulled up the collar of his coat. He sensed Remus tense beside him, and from the way his right hand was in his pocket, he knew Remus was gripping his wand. Sirius did the same.
As they passed, the men followed their movement with narrowed eyes. A group outside what was clearly a nightclub eyed him appreciatively. Sirius could almost sense their hunger from the way their eyes glinted at him. One of the men in particular looked him over as if the man was starving and Sirius was an especially juicy bit of meat. He lustfully licked his lips.
Remus scowled and walked just that much closer to Sirius, so that their elbows bumped each time they took a step. He didn’t move away even when they passed the area and entered the romantic, warmly lit streets that seemed to be a prowling ground for couples.
Snatches of music floated on the breeze, and as they neared a square, Sirius saw that the music was originating from a gazebo that had been set up in the middle of the clearing. An orchestra was playing a slow, dreamy serenade while couples moved to the music around them. It was impossible to tell where one person started and another ended-each couple seemed to melt into one, glued together at the lips.
Remus made to move on, but Sirius grabbed his arm.
“Come on, Remus. Let’s dance,” said Sirius, pulling Remus toward the square.
“Dance?” Remus asked incredulously, looking at him as if he’d grown a kneazle for a head. “But-but they’re all-all…” He gestured hopelessly at the dancers.
“Couples?” Sirius prompted.
Remus nodded, looking traumatized at Sirius for even suggesting the idea.
“So what?” Sirius asked. “They don’t know us. We don’t know them.”
“We-you-I don’t dance,” Remus said stubbornly.
“I’ll teach you.”
Remus was loosing his resolve. “But we shouldn’t,” he said as if trying to convince himself.
“Can’t we pretend to be happy just this once?” Sirius snapped. He pulled Remus fervently onto the square in between two couples that were too engaged in games of tongue wrestling to notice. “Please?” he added, giving Remus his most charming smile.
Remus looked at him doubtfully. Sirius held his breath. But then Remus let out a long-suffering sigh and relented with a rather defeated nod.
Sirius didn’t waste any time. He placed his hands on Remus’s waist and started swaying to the tune. Remus just stood there, blushing profusely and apparently lost for words. But eventually-and Sirius thought his heart would stop when it happened-Remus’s hands inched around his neck and his feet started following Sirius.
No one paid them any heed, and gradually Remus seemed to relax and ease into the music. Every time they moved, their bodies would bump against each other and Sirius’s heart would skip a beat. He slowly, using each movement as an excuse, wound his hands tighter around his partner’s waist. Remus stepped closer to that their bodies were pressed flush against each other.
“Thanks for taking me out, today,” he murmured into Remus’s ear.
He was rewarded when Remus shivered and seemed to step even closer against him. The music slowed further, and Remus started absently playing with Sirius’s hair, clearly not aware of the effects it was having on Sirius. For his part, Sirius shuddered every time Remus’s fingers brushed against his skin. Without being aware he was doing so, he started drawing small circles on Remus’s back. And when Remus laid his head on Sirius’s shoulder and buried his face into his hair, Sirius knew that if he dropped dead at that very instant, it would be without regrets.
“You’re determined to scar the Muggles for life, aren’t you?” Remus asked lightly, his lips and breath hot and wet against the side of Sirius’s neck.
Sirius looked around, and indeed many of the couples had stopped to ogle them. He chuckled and ran his hands up Remus’s back.
“Maybe,” he said conversationally. “But I think there’s an even better way to do that.”
Remus lifted his head and gave him a suspicious look-a look that melted into one of tenderness as soon as their eyes met. Even in the dim light cast by the streetlamp, Sirius could tell that Remus’s cheeks were just as flushed as his own. And as they looked at each other, the world seemed to dissolve around them. Thoughts vanished, only to be replaced by pure, raw emotion.
This, Sirius thought, was surely heaven.
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Later, Remus would never be able to tell who leaned in first, though he always liked to think it was Sirius. But at the moment, with Sirius’s lips pressing against his own, he hardly thought it mattered.
This kiss was different from the others. It wasn’t uncertain and brief like the first. It wasn’t rough and passionate like the second. It wasn’t evanescent and barely there like the third. It was confident and hesitant, gentle and firm, loving and lustful, too short and too long, all in the same beautiful instant.
When Sirius had asked him to dance, he had been too shocked at the absurdity of such an offer that he hadn’t thought of its consequences. It felt as if he had left his brain back in the restaurant. And then Sirius had started dancing with him, trying to coax some type of response from him, and he had just stood there, his face burning, not knowing what to do. Eventually he had put his hands around Sirius’s neck-it just seemed like the thing he ought to do in that situation. Gradually he had become aware that he was falling-not literally but emotionally. His thoughts were skewed, overpowered by the sensation of being in Sirius’s arms. He was slipping into blissful blackness, a nether region where he neither controlled his body nor listened to his own logic.
Remus was only vaguely aware that he was stepping closer and closer, pressing their bodies flush against each other and basking in the heat of having Sirius so close. Only a few cursed clothes remained between their skin. Then he laid his head on the boy’s shoulder and murmured something meaningless into his ear-Remus forgot what it was that he said as soon as the words had left his mouth.
As he met Sirius’s gaze, the floor crumbled underneath him. The world fell away around him. A volcano exploded somewhere below his navel, spewing forth the ash of desire and the lava of want. At the same instant, a lighting bolt passed through his body, through his very heart.
And then there was the kiss.
Remus had never been kissed like that in his life. This wasn’t-couldn’t be-kissing. It was making love, without the sex.
Sirius sucked on his lower lip, pulling it into his mouth, where it was subjected to nipping and licking and ministrations for which Remus couldn’t find words. Remus felt a tongue, hot and rough and wet, rub lightly against his own when he opened his mouth. But in an instant it was gone, and he unwittingly sought it out with his own tongue. In doing so, he entered Sirius’s mouth, which opened and welcomed him in. Tongue slid against tongue. The taste, smell, and feel of Sirius were all around him.
It was crushing and suffocating.
And it was the best feeling in the world.
Chapter 11
Author: _demonsblade_
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Rating: R
Genre: AU, romance, drama, angst, fluff, humor
Warning: Slash, mild chanslash (6-year diff.), boy/man snogging, boy/man sexual situations, mild violence, strong language
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: All characters © J.K. Rowling
Summary: AU. Remus has been hired to tutor the Black heir, Sirius. But it seems Sirius has a few things to teach him, as well. Can this possibly the start of a friendship...or something more? And what will happen if the Blacks find out?
Teaser:
Breath tickled his lips, smelling of an intoxicating mixture of spice and saliva and an essence that was just purely Sirius.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Sirius asked against his lips.
If you haven't read the previous chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9
“Did you ever correct that paper I wrote on Greece, sir?”
The question was sprung on him at the end of Arithmancy, their last lesson for the day. Sirius was rolling up the parchment he had taken notes on and Remus was arranging his books back on his shelf.
Since the night when Sirius seemed to have worked out the truth of his relationship with Lily, things had almost returned to normal between them. The incident hadn’t been mentioned or even alluded to. Sirius hadn’t tried to pull anything, and so it was with an anxious heart that Remus turned around to face him, expecting the very worst.
“I did correct it,” Remus answered as lightly as he could. “I thought I gave it back to you. Didn’t I?”
“No, sir. If you don’t mind, could you tell me what you thought of it?” Sirius was giving him a shrewd look, a half-smile at his lips. The tone of his voice was unctuous, a saccharine smooth that made Remus narrow his eyes in suspicion.
Remus swallowed. “It was very well written-well researched. In all honesty, it was one of the best essays I’ve read in a long time.”
He dearly hoped that Sirius would just leave it at that and not push the issue. But it seemed luck was not on his side today.
“I meant what you thought of the content-the ideas discussed in it.”
“What-what ideas do you mean?” he asked, turning his back to Sirius and making quite a show of looking for the right spot to put Numerology and Gramatica.
“Paederasty,” said Sirius simply. Remus winced. “I think the whole idea of institutionalized homosexuality in those times was fascinating.”
“Yes. Fascinating. Quite.” Remus wedged the book he was holding in between New Theory of Numerology and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, resorting to pounding it in with his fist when it wouldn’t slide easily.
“I mean,” Sirius went on, raising his voice just slightly over Remus’s shuffling, “the way that homosexuality was accepted as an intrinsic and necessary part of life-it’s quite a different way of thinking compared to the fear and disgust with which wizarding England regards it today. Don’t you say so?”
Remus nodded absently, fastidiously arranging his notes into a neat pile. It was quite odd to hear Sirius sounding like a textbook, but at least it was much better than him sounding like the sweetest sin in the world.
“I’m curious as to what your opinion is about the issue, Professor.”
Sighing, Remus put his notes aside and turned to face Sirius, leaning back against the desk. He hoped Sirius couldn’t hear the loud hammering of his heart or notice the reddening of his cheeks. “What issue would that be, Sirius?”
“Homosexuality in general,” Sirius said with a smirk. “And paederasty in particular.”
“I think,” Remus said guardedly, choosing his words with care, “that sexuality is an important part of the human psyche-no matter what that sexuality might be. I don’t think there is anything wrong with being attracted to one’s own sex. It has been happening in animals for as long as animals have existed, and in humans for as long as humans have existed.” Sirius opened his mouth, but Remus talked right over him. “However, I am not sure what to think about paederasty. I have always believed that in any romantic relationship, the share of power should be equal. That is hard to do when one partner is double the age of the other.”
“But what about if the partners were, say, five or six years apart? Wouldn’t an egalitarian relationship be easier to achieve then?”
“That depends, Sirius.” Remus could tell Sirius was trying to catch his eye; he stubbornly kept his gaze on the wall behind his pupil. “In terms of paederasty between, say, a teacher and his pupil or a master and his apprentice or even a mentor and his protégé, one person holds the reigns of power, no matter what the age difference. And in any case,” he added firmly, “a five or six year difference is large when one of the potential partners is still a teenager.”
“But the difference will shrink with time,” Sirius returned.
“Only assuming that the relationship survives that long. And even then, when two people get into the pattern of sharing power unequally, it is hard to shift to an egalitarian relationship. Old habits die hard, to quote an old saying.”
Sirius was silent for a moment, and Remus was just starting to relax when he spoke. “But what-what if the relationship was egalitarian in the first place?”
“That’s quite hard to accomplish,” Remus said harshly.
“It can be done.”
“Sirius-”
“You’re like me, aren’t you?”
Remus stared at him for a few seconds, as confused at the abrupt change in topic as he was at the question itself.
“You’re like me,” Sirius repeated, gesturing to himself. “You’re attracted to blokes…aren’t you?”
He could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. “I-you-Lily-” he sputtered uselessly.
“Lily is not your fiancée.” Sirius stood up from his chair and took a step towards him. “She’s your friend-maybe your best friend. Nothing more.”
“But-but she’s-”
Sirius placed his hands on the desk-on either side of Remus’s hip-and leaned close. “Liar.”
“I-what?” Remus choked out.
“You lied to me,” Sirius said with a self-satisfied smirk. “You tried to tell me Lily was your fiancée.” Sirius looked solemnly into his eyes. “She’s not.”
Remus opened his mouth to object, but Sirius cut him off.
“Don’t bother to try and defend yourself. I know. I have useful connections at Hogwarts.”
“But I-”
“You aren’t dating. You aren’t engaged. You are attracted”-Sirius leaned even closer, and Remus tilted his head slightly so that Sirius’s breath tickled his neck and prepared himself to hear “to me”-“to blokes.”
Remus felt the hot, wet puff of a breath against the pulse point of his neck and the soft brush of lips. The next three words were murmured against his skin.
“Am I right?”
He didn’t know at what point he had closed his eyes, but without his vision, his sense of touch seemed to have intensified tenfold. A gentle trail of almost-kisses on his neck. The sliding of strong hands around his waist. Two legs pressing flush against his own.
The lips traveled up his jaw, coming to rest on his chin. Without meaning to Remus arched his body upward into Sirius. The hands gripping the desk were shaking and so cold he could barely feel them, but he didn’t spare a thought on them.
“Remus,” Sirius whispered, his mouth now hovering above Remus’s.
Breath tickled his lips, smelling of an intoxicating mixture of spice and saliva and an essence that was just purely Sirius.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Sirius asked against his lips.
“N-no…no,” he said breathlessly.
The hands on his back slipped up his shirt, exploring the skin beneath. Remus gasped and clutched the desk even harder, straining to support his weakening knees.
“You’re lying to me again,” Sirius said, tracing Remus’s bottom lip with his tongue. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
“No,” he said, his voice stronger this time-more confident. “No. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t kiss me.”
“If you’re sure.”
And suddenly the lips were gone, the arms around his waist had disappeared, and the pressure against his thighs was no longer there. His eyes fluttered open.
Sirius stood back from him at a respectable distance, face blank except for a small, smug grin.
“If you’re sure,” Sirius repeated, grin widening somewhat.
The problem was, he wasn’t sure at all. And although Remus would have rather fed himself to a hippogriff than admit it to Sirius, he privately knew that he had been about a hair’s width away from giving in.
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On Saturday night, Remus suggested they eat out.
“There’s an amazing Parisian restaurant on the next block,” he said. “You’ve been cooped up in the house all week.”
“But aren’t I supposed to be in hiding?” Sirius asked doubtfully.
“You aren’t on the run from the law, Sirius,” he said, laughing slightly. “I’ve already asked Professor Dumbledore.
And so as the sun sunk into the horizon on Saturday, Sirius found himself in front of Remus’s bedroom mirror, his trunk open on the floor beside him. Remus had excused himself earlier for what he had called “a small visit” with Dumbledore and hadn’t yet returned. Sirius had noticed that Remus seemed to take a lot of these “small visits,” sometimes with Dumbledore and sometimes with Lily.
By an implicit consensus, neither of them mentioned what had happened the afternoon before. But Sirius felt hopeful. Remus was dead set against any type of relationship, for sure. But, reflected Sirius, he would turn seventeen in six months and would then be legally of age.
He checked his reflection critically in the mirror. Sirius had decided to dress up in his Muggle best for tonight. No matter what Remus wanted to call it, he, Sirius, was calling it a date-at least in his mind. He grabbed his wand and performed a charm to make hot steam spurt out of the end, which he used to smooth out a crease in his shirt. His hair was freshly washed, dried, and clasped into a tail at the nape of his neck. After some consideration, he decided to also don the bit of Muggle jewelry James had gotten him the Christmas after he had told him about his sexuality.
“But it’s a-a-a necklace!” Sirius had sputtered indignantly, holding the offending thing at arms length.
“The Muggle bloke in the shop called it a choker,” James had said with a smirk. “I hear all the poofs are wearing it.”
That remark had earned him a cuff on the side of the head, but there was no denying that Sirius had grown quite attached to the thing over the past year. This was the first time he had actually worn it, however, and he looked himself over self-consciously. The black suede and metal star hanging from it felt foreign and strange (not to mention cold) against his skin, but the overall visual effect was stunning, if he said so himself.
“He’s going have a hard time keeping his hands off you,” said the mirror appraisingly. And then it added in a somewhat conspiratorial whisper, “He hasn’t had a decent date since he bought me.”
“Er…thanks,” he told the mirror uncertainly.
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Remus knew it had been a mistake to take Sirius out as soon as he set foot in the apartment after his Order meeting. Sirius was waiting for him on the sofa, dressed in a silver shirt and black trousers-the same black trousers, Remus suspected, he had worn the day in the study when they had kissed for the first time; they hugged his angles and curves with a sensuality that was almost obscene. The shirt made his eyes look lighter, brighter, more alive, more alluring. His hair had been pulled back, but a few unruly strands still hung over his eyes in a way that made Remus’s fingers itch to push them away. A silver star hung from a leather thong tied around his neck. Remus suspected that Sirius was one of the very privileged few that could carry the look with aplomb and grace.
“How was your visit?” Sirius asked.
“It was all right, I suppose,” he said, brushing soot off his robes. “I’m going to take a quick shower and then we’ll be off.”
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The streetlamps were beginning to glow when they finally stepped out into the frosty autumn air. All around them couples walked hand in hand-young, giggly, starry-eyed teenagers lost in their own worlds and old married couples with graying hair and squealing children. The dusty periwinkle of dusk stretched over them, a few lone stars spattered along the otherwise unbroken vastness. Restaurants and stores on the sides of the cobblestone streets spilled light and laughter and warm, delicious aromas out onto the passerby.
Sirius thought the setting seemed the perfection of romance, the rose-tinted kaleidoscope of dining by the fireside that invited soft touches and warm kisses. He wanted to say something to that effect, but decided against it for Remus’s sake. The man seemed nervous enough as it was, shooting sidelong glances at Sirius whenever he thought Sirius wasn’t looking.
“It’s a beautiful night, don’t you think?” Sirius asked, trying to break the silence that had fallen since their departure from the flat.
Remus seemed to be in deep thought and didn’t answer immediately. He looked up at the sky. His chest puffed out as he took in a deep breath, eyes closed. It looked to Sirius as if he was breathing in the night itself. When he looked down, he caught Sirius’s eye and smiled warmly.
“Yes,” he said, looking Sirius straight in the eye. “It’s beautiful.”
If he had been any less shocked, Sirius would have asked him exactly what he was referring to. But as it was, he was startled enough at the directness of the comment and the easiness with which Remus smiled. Maybe the romantic atmosphere was finally getting to Remus. Or just maybe he was always happier outside in the fresh air. Either way, Sirius wasn’t going to waste his opportunity for a little fun.
The dinner was mostly uneventful, except for the waiter spilling bouillabaisse all down his front when he tripped over a child’s outstretched foot. After everything that had happened between them, Sirius was surprised at how normal the conversation was. He had expected the last two months to lie between them like a vast, rotting crater filled to the brim with That-Which-We-Do-Not-Speak-Of. But in reality, he thought it would seem to any observer as if they were the closest of friends having a true heart-to-heart.
They talked about some of the topics they had covered in their lessons over the last week. Remus told Sirius a story about his childhood, when he had tried to ride his father’s broomstick and had ended up with a dislocated shoulder and a few broken teeth. Sirius told Remus about some of the more docile pranks he and James had pulled over their past five years at Hogwarts.
“You actually charmed the Slytherin first years to have multicolored hair for three weeks?” Remus asked incredulously. He seemed to be halfway between amusement at their creativity and exasperation at their rule breaking.
“The hair smelled like rotten eggs, too,” added Sirius. “That part was Peter’s idea.”
Remus burst out laughing. Shaking his head good-naturedly, he chuckled and cut a small portion out of his quiche. After a while the laughter died down. Remus looked up. He was frowning. There was intensity in his gaze that Sirius had rarely ever seen.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you miss Hogwarts and I’m sorry for the way your parents treated you.”
Somehow that earnest apology only made Sirius want to spill the tears he had tried so hard to keep in. He blinked the stinging out of his eyes and gave Remus a watery smile.
“It’s all right,” he said with as much sincerity as he could. “If things hadn’t happened the way they did, I would’ve never met you.”
Sirius was pleased to see Remus cough and blush and avert his eyes. It was, he thought, quite adorable.
When they made their way back from the restaurant, night had fallen in all its dark glory. The couples were still around, hidden in little lovers’ nooks and oblivious to the world around them. But there were also grungy-looking men clad in leather and long overcoats lounging by the side of dingy pubs. On one dimly lit street-which they incidentally had to pass through-the men stood in loose groups of four or five, smoking and conversing in undertones.
Sirius shivered and pulled up the collar of his coat. He sensed Remus tense beside him, and from the way his right hand was in his pocket, he knew Remus was gripping his wand. Sirius did the same.
As they passed, the men followed their movement with narrowed eyes. A group outside what was clearly a nightclub eyed him appreciatively. Sirius could almost sense their hunger from the way their eyes glinted at him. One of the men in particular looked him over as if the man was starving and Sirius was an especially juicy bit of meat. He lustfully licked his lips.
Remus scowled and walked just that much closer to Sirius, so that their elbows bumped each time they took a step. He didn’t move away even when they passed the area and entered the romantic, warmly lit streets that seemed to be a prowling ground for couples.
Snatches of music floated on the breeze, and as they neared a square, Sirius saw that the music was originating from a gazebo that had been set up in the middle of the clearing. An orchestra was playing a slow, dreamy serenade while couples moved to the music around them. It was impossible to tell where one person started and another ended-each couple seemed to melt into one, glued together at the lips.
Remus made to move on, but Sirius grabbed his arm.
“Come on, Remus. Let’s dance,” said Sirius, pulling Remus toward the square.
“Dance?” Remus asked incredulously, looking at him as if he’d grown a kneazle for a head. “But-but they’re all-all…” He gestured hopelessly at the dancers.
“Couples?” Sirius prompted.
Remus nodded, looking traumatized at Sirius for even suggesting the idea.
“So what?” Sirius asked. “They don’t know us. We don’t know them.”
“We-you-I don’t dance,” Remus said stubbornly.
“I’ll teach you.”
Remus was loosing his resolve. “But we shouldn’t,” he said as if trying to convince himself.
“Can’t we pretend to be happy just this once?” Sirius snapped. He pulled Remus fervently onto the square in between two couples that were too engaged in games of tongue wrestling to notice. “Please?” he added, giving Remus his most charming smile.
Remus looked at him doubtfully. Sirius held his breath. But then Remus let out a long-suffering sigh and relented with a rather defeated nod.
Sirius didn’t waste any time. He placed his hands on Remus’s waist and started swaying to the tune. Remus just stood there, blushing profusely and apparently lost for words. But eventually-and Sirius thought his heart would stop when it happened-Remus’s hands inched around his neck and his feet started following Sirius.
No one paid them any heed, and gradually Remus seemed to relax and ease into the music. Every time they moved, their bodies would bump against each other and Sirius’s heart would skip a beat. He slowly, using each movement as an excuse, wound his hands tighter around his partner’s waist. Remus stepped closer to that their bodies were pressed flush against each other.
“Thanks for taking me out, today,” he murmured into Remus’s ear.
He was rewarded when Remus shivered and seemed to step even closer against him. The music slowed further, and Remus started absently playing with Sirius’s hair, clearly not aware of the effects it was having on Sirius. For his part, Sirius shuddered every time Remus’s fingers brushed against his skin. Without being aware he was doing so, he started drawing small circles on Remus’s back. And when Remus laid his head on Sirius’s shoulder and buried his face into his hair, Sirius knew that if he dropped dead at that very instant, it would be without regrets.
“You’re determined to scar the Muggles for life, aren’t you?” Remus asked lightly, his lips and breath hot and wet against the side of Sirius’s neck.
Sirius looked around, and indeed many of the couples had stopped to ogle them. He chuckled and ran his hands up Remus’s back.
“Maybe,” he said conversationally. “But I think there’s an even better way to do that.”
Remus lifted his head and gave him a suspicious look-a look that melted into one of tenderness as soon as their eyes met. Even in the dim light cast by the streetlamp, Sirius could tell that Remus’s cheeks were just as flushed as his own. And as they looked at each other, the world seemed to dissolve around them. Thoughts vanished, only to be replaced by pure, raw emotion.
This, Sirius thought, was surely heaven.
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Later, Remus would never be able to tell who leaned in first, though he always liked to think it was Sirius. But at the moment, with Sirius’s lips pressing against his own, he hardly thought it mattered.
This kiss was different from the others. It wasn’t uncertain and brief like the first. It wasn’t rough and passionate like the second. It wasn’t evanescent and barely there like the third. It was confident and hesitant, gentle and firm, loving and lustful, too short and too long, all in the same beautiful instant.
When Sirius had asked him to dance, he had been too shocked at the absurdity of such an offer that he hadn’t thought of its consequences. It felt as if he had left his brain back in the restaurant. And then Sirius had started dancing with him, trying to coax some type of response from him, and he had just stood there, his face burning, not knowing what to do. Eventually he had put his hands around Sirius’s neck-it just seemed like the thing he ought to do in that situation. Gradually he had become aware that he was falling-not literally but emotionally. His thoughts were skewed, overpowered by the sensation of being in Sirius’s arms. He was slipping into blissful blackness, a nether region where he neither controlled his body nor listened to his own logic.
Remus was only vaguely aware that he was stepping closer and closer, pressing their bodies flush against each other and basking in the heat of having Sirius so close. Only a few cursed clothes remained between their skin. Then he laid his head on the boy’s shoulder and murmured something meaningless into his ear-Remus forgot what it was that he said as soon as the words had left his mouth.
As he met Sirius’s gaze, the floor crumbled underneath him. The world fell away around him. A volcano exploded somewhere below his navel, spewing forth the ash of desire and the lava of want. At the same instant, a lighting bolt passed through his body, through his very heart.
And then there was the kiss.
Remus had never been kissed like that in his life. This wasn’t-couldn’t be-kissing. It was making love, without the sex.
Sirius sucked on his lower lip, pulling it into his mouth, where it was subjected to nipping and licking and ministrations for which Remus couldn’t find words. Remus felt a tongue, hot and rough and wet, rub lightly against his own when he opened his mouth. But in an instant it was gone, and he unwittingly sought it out with his own tongue. In doing so, he entered Sirius’s mouth, which opened and welcomed him in. Tongue slid against tongue. The taste, smell, and feel of Sirius were all around him.
It was crushing and suffocating.
And it was the best feeling in the world.
Chapter 11