hp fic // i built this kingdom up from nothing [remus/sirius, pg-13]
title: I built this kingdom up from nothing
author: crooked
pairing: Remus/Sirius
rating: PG-13
word count: 2730
summary: Living on his own has one benefit Sirius didn't expect.
disclaimer: Not mine.
a/n: written for round two of the rs_games. big thanks and ♥ to my lovely beta, such_heights!
i built this kingdom up from nothing
Sirius wakes up to the din of the Petticoat Lane street market - hundreds of Muggles mulling about the stalls and bargaining for deals, traders shouting about their wares to the passers-by. He pulls his pillow over his head, never really having been a morning person, but his grin is wide all the same. Just another Sunday morning in his own flat.
Sunday mornings on holiday at Grimmauld Place used to mean Kreacher’s little fists pounding angrily away at his door until Sirius had no choice but to drag himself out of bed, get dressed in formal attire, and trudge his way downstairs to the Blacks’ dining room. Breakfast was a stiff, impersonal event; Walburga would inquire about Regulus’ holiday plans, by that time ignoring Sirius altogether, while Orion would stay hidden behind the Daily Prophet, complaining about the ‘Mudblood-friendly’ reporting. He’d suffer through it, clenching his jaw at the disparaging comments his mother occasionally threw his way, until he was finally allowed to retreat to his room.
But Sunday mornings on Wentworth Street? An entirely different kettle of fish. Sirius realises it’s a fruitless effort to attempt to get any sort of quiet, so he rolls out of bed and pads down the hall into the bathroom. He can’t be arsed to shower just yet, splashing cold water over his face to wake himself up that little bit more.
“Mmph, wh’ time ‘s it?” Sirius grumbles, cracking open one eye while rubbing at the other. He’s only been living on his own for just over a week, but already he’s taken to talking to himself. Regularly. It’s quite worrying. When he gets no answer (the day he does is the day he checks himself into the nearest mental asylum), he ducks his head out of the bathroom and peers at the wall clock Peter hung in the hall. Ten o’clock, it says at him, and Sirius groans in response. Maybe it’s not that early in the morning, but it’s early enough for a bloke who prefers to wake up on the other side of noon.
He shuffles into the small square of a kitchen, opening the refrigerator as if he’s expecting food to have magically appeared inside overnight. The contents are the same as they were last night: an empty milk bottle and two cartons of leftover takeaway. He shrugs, grabbing the chicken curry, and plops down into one of the two chairs around the table that’s pushed up against the space beneath the window. Sirius looks out over the sea of people crowded on the street below, stabbing at his cold curry with the one clean fork left in the flat. His gaze shifts to the sink, and the washing-up is still there, piled up from three days ago when he had his mates over for dinner.
It’s a right mess but it’s his mess, and Sirius actually takes pride in it. He still hears his mother’s words as he hastily packed up his trunk. You’ll be back in less than a day! You can’t make it on your own! You’re nothing without your father and I, Sirius! Nothing! Well, he’d shown her, hadn’t he? He never looked back once he arrived on the Potters’ doorstep that night. Nearly a year later, Sirius has been on his own for nine days, and Grimmauld Place seems to be a world away. He knows he’s probably blasted off the tapestry and right out of the family by now anyway. The only Blacks who were ever worth a damn are either ousted as well or dead (and funding his rebellion, thanks Uncle Alphard). What does he need them for? He has his family in the form of a werewolf, a stag, and a rat, and that’s more than good enough.
Then there are the perks to living alone. He could never have cold curry for breakfast while wearing his pyjamas before. He couldn’t wank in the living room (day two), he couldn’t walk around stark bollock naked for no good reason (days three and five), and he couldn’t leave his dirty laundry lying around until he felt like picking it up (every day so far, if he’s being honest). At Grimmauld Place, Sirius was just a pawn in his family’s game, but here he is the king. And, no, he doesn’t care how stupid James thinks that sounds.
Some hours - and a hot shower - later, after the market below has closed up shop for the day, Sirius stands in front of his bathroom mirror. He runs his fingers through his hair for the fifteenth time, pushing it over to the left rather than the right. It still looks ridiculous, so he gives up and starts all over again.
“It’s just Moony,” he mutters to himself, but his grin belies the casual tone he tries to impart to the words. He’s not ‘just Moony’, and he hasn’t been ever since they kissed. Remus isn’t exactly his girlfriend, and he would get boxed about the ears something fierce for even jokingly suggesting so, but he’s not just a friend anymore either.
#
It was two weeks before they left Hogwarts for the holidays. James and Peter were off trying to get Regina Reedley to fall in love with Peter through some half-arsed plan that seemed destined to fail. Remus was innocently sucking on the tip of a sugar quill as he and Sirius finished up their Potions essays. Sirius, shifting and squirming on the bed as he tried not to stare, ended up needing a moment. He took a passageway that led out to the roof, desperate to get out of the dorm. It didn’t help when Remus followed him out a few minutes later. They sat and talked, passed a cigarette between the two of them (which Sirius thought was cruel irony since he’d been trying to escape having to watch Remus close his lips over a phallic object), and all the while Sirius tried to deny the fact that he had been slowly falling for his friend.
Sirius had been imagining that looks had started to linger, that touches seemed to come more frequently than before, and he was certain that Remus reserved that smile just for him. For weeks (that seemed even longer after the unfortunate incident with Snape early in the term) he’d been denying it, but the stupid feeling kept nagging at Sirius, making butterflies flutter about his stomach whenever he saw Remus. And then, just as Sirius was rambling on about how insufferable whatever summer holiday his parents had planned would inevitably be, Remus leant forward and kissed him. His eyes widened and Sirius pulled back for a second to stare at Remus, who looked ready to jump off the roof, no doubt thinking the kiss was unwanted. Unwanted? No. Completely unexpected? Definitely. Sirius had never figured Remus for the ‘first move’ type, but he stopped analysing things and grabbed Remus’ wrist as he started to make a getaway. Sirius pulled him forward and their lips met again, and that time he didn’t pull away until he had to take a breath.
#
“Sirius! Dammit, Sirius, you’d better be home!”
Sirius jumps a bit at the sound of the muffled voice and the knocking at his door. He realises that he’s been so caught up in the memory of that night on the roof (and then the next night, and a few days after that, and that last kiss stuffed into a bathroom on the train) that Remus has been knocking for several seconds. He gives himself one more glance in the mirror before rushing over to let the other boy in.
Sirius pretends his heart doesn’t start to race at the sound of Remus’ voice (C‘mon, Padfoot, open up!), and he pretends his fingers don‘t fumble on the lock. He pretends his heart doesn’t leap into his throat when he sees Remus, and he pretends it doesn’t stop completely when the boy smiles at him - that certain smile, his smile.
“Hey, Moo-” Sirius begins, but he’s cut off by Remus launching himself at him. He drapes himself all over Sirius, lips seeking lips, hands curling into his hair, a soft whimper muffled between their mouths. Sirius stumbles back, kicking at the front door to close it, groaning and then laughing as he runs into the back of the sofa. Remus mumbles ‘sorry’, and then shows Sirius he means it by slipping his tongue past his lips. After a moment, Sirius realises how wrong it is to be getting off with Remus in plain sight of the crocheted doilies he’d promised Mrs Potter he’d put on his coffee table, so he gently pushes Remus back, grinning and breathless, eyes slightly wild.
“If I’d have known you were such an insatiable trollop, we would have started doing this ages ago,” Sirius breathes out, laughing as Remus punches his arm. Sirius links their fingers and pulls Remus around to the front of the couch. They sit down with barely enough room for air to pass between them, and Remus hasn‘t taken his eyes off Sirius once. Sirius sees the concerned look there, and he laughs it off.
“Don’t,” he says, gesturing dismissively in the air. “I’m fine, Moony, I already told you.”
Remus frowns, clucks his tongue softly as he gets up and moves to the end of the couch. He reaches for Sirius and pulls him down, his head landing in Remus’ lap. Sirius happily obliges, shifting until he’s flat on his back and staring up at Remus. Fingers pull through his fringe, brushing his hair back off his face.
“You’re a terrible liar, Padfoot,” Remus says, a melancholy smile on his lips. Sirius sighs, shrugging his shoulders and turning his head to the side. Remus’ fingers follow the sharp line of his jaw, tracing down the curve of his neck.
“I’m mostly fine, okay?” he admits, and it’s the truth. Sirius is mostly fine, but there have been a couple of nights where he’s really not fine at all. The first night he was there, Sirius lay awake on one side of the bed, used to having James and his sharp elbows crowd him over to the left. It was simply too quiet without his best friend softly snoring beside him. Two nights later, he wandered outside in the chilled air, unable to sleep again after James, Peter, and Remus left for their homes. Home, he had thought as he ambled along the deserted street, back to parents that loved them. After nearly getting lost in his new neighbourhood, Sirius had returned to his flat just before dawn and eventually fell asleep.
Remus doesn’t say anything so Sirius keeps on. “It’s just… it’s weird, you know? I’ve got my own bloody place. I know I could’ve stayed at James’ a bit longer, so you don’t have to say it. Mr and Mrs Potter are amazing, Remus, they really are. They treated me almost better than their own son. But… I don’t know. I couldn’t very well stay there forever, could I?”
“But why now, Sirius?” Remus asks, shaking his head even as he stroked along Sirius’ cheekbone. “It’s our last summer hols as students, and you’re sitting up in this place all by yourself. My mum is insisting on taking me along to Portugal to visit Aunt What’s-Her-Face, or else I’d have stayed behind to keep you company. And Peter’s working in his dad’s shop for the summer, so he‘ll probably be scarce.”
Sirius laughs again. “I’ll be fine, Moony, honest. I reckon James’ mum and dad would like one more summer with just their son, you know? Without me running about the place and tearing things up. They’re not exactly young, you know. I can’t imagine it was easy taking me on. I figure they deserve a break.” He shrugs another time, a sign that he’s probably making it all up as he goes along. “I’m seventeen now and I’m an adult - which makes you and me quite illegal, doesn’t it? Anyway, I need to get used to living on my own. We’re headed down the final stretch, mate. Might as well be prepared for it.”
Remus sighs, looking down at Sirius with that stubborn look that Sirius knows all too well. He’s not ready to let up. “You know Mr and Mrs Potter would love nothing more than to spoil you for one more summer. They’ve put up with you for this many school holidays. I’m sure one more isn’t a problem. Or maybe I can ask Mum and Dad if you can come away with us.”
“No, Remus, I just… I need to do this, okay?” Sirius insists. “I never really thought I’d be… well, free. I mean, living with the Potters wasn’t exactly existing on my own. And even if I hadn’t ran off and just moved out after Hogwarts, I‘d still be a part of them. Well, I’m long since taken off the tapestry.” Sirius takes a deep breath, turns his head back to gaze up at Remus. “I don’t have to play by their rules. I’m not… I’m not a Black.” It’s the first time he’s said the words out loud, and it sends an odd sensation coursing through him. He’s not sure if it’s uncertainty or relief.
“Of course you’re still a Black, Sirius,” Remus says, shaking his head. He can’t possibly understand, Sirius realises, because he’s just like James. He has two parents that didn’t even let his being a werewolf disrupt their love for him; Sirius was sorted into the “wrong” house, and it seemed as if his mother and father were ready to disown him over that alone.
He smiles up at Remus, shaking his head in return. “Not according to them. See, that’s how it works: if your name is erased from the sacred tapestry, then it’s like you never existed. Regulus doesn’t have a brother, and Moth- Walburga and Orion have the perfect little heir they’ve always wanted. Your boyfriend is a nameless entity, I’m afraid.” Sirius freezes a moment later, staring up at Remus to gauge his reaction. They haven’t labelled anything yet; they’ve not really had the time. The term just sort of slipped out before Sirius could stop himself.
“Oh, I’ve a boyfriend? I wasn’t aware,” Remus teases, smirking down at Sirius. “I guess I shouldn’t have gone on that date last night then. My mistake.”
Sirius slaps at the thigh beneath his head, narrowing his eyes at Remus even though he’s smiling. “I can perform magic outside of school now, you know. You go on a date with anybody that’s not me, and he’s gonna find himself missing a vital piece of his anatomy.”
Remus’ laugh muffled against Sirius’ lips as he bent forward to kiss him. “I thought proper dates would be a bit too poncy for you, but don’t you worry,” he says, and his hand is suddenly creeping beneath Sirius’ shirt, fingers splaying over the flat plane of his belly. “I’m apparently too stupid to see how terribly wrong you are for me.”
Sirius is too preoccupied with the hand on his skin to give much thought to Remus’ actual words. They’ve only really snogged up until now. Sirius briefly wonders if it’s the sheer freedom of being able to do whatever they want that’s making Remus move faster than he would’ve guessed. Then he realises that he just doesn’t care. He reaches up and curls his fingers around the back of Remus’ neck, pulling him down further as he licks along the curve of his bottom lip. Remus lets out a quiet whine, possibly in protest at the extremely awkward angle, but Sirius takes it to mean that he wants more.
Sliding out from beneath Remus, Sirius pushes him down onto the couch. He kneels over the boy, grinning as Remus moans the moment Sirius’ lips touch his neck. Just as his fingers find the fly of Remus’ trousers, Sirius glances over and catches sight of the cream-coloured linen mats draped across his table. He pauses for a moment, contemplating moving the entire operation into the bedroom. But when Remus whimpers his name, arching up into his touch and practically begging for Sirius to keep going, Sirius doesn’t let anything distract him again.
Mrs Potter’s doilies are just going to have to cope.
author: crooked
pairing: Remus/Sirius
rating: PG-13
word count: 2730
summary: Living on his own has one benefit Sirius didn't expect.
disclaimer: Not mine.
a/n: written for round two of the rs_games. big thanks and ♥ to my lovely beta, such_heights!
i built this kingdom up from nothing
Sirius wakes up to the din of the Petticoat Lane street market - hundreds of Muggles mulling about the stalls and bargaining for deals, traders shouting about their wares to the passers-by. He pulls his pillow over his head, never really having been a morning person, but his grin is wide all the same. Just another Sunday morning in his own flat.
Sunday mornings on holiday at Grimmauld Place used to mean Kreacher’s little fists pounding angrily away at his door until Sirius had no choice but to drag himself out of bed, get dressed in formal attire, and trudge his way downstairs to the Blacks’ dining room. Breakfast was a stiff, impersonal event; Walburga would inquire about Regulus’ holiday plans, by that time ignoring Sirius altogether, while Orion would stay hidden behind the Daily Prophet, complaining about the ‘Mudblood-friendly’ reporting. He’d suffer through it, clenching his jaw at the disparaging comments his mother occasionally threw his way, until he was finally allowed to retreat to his room.
But Sunday mornings on Wentworth Street? An entirely different kettle of fish. Sirius realises it’s a fruitless effort to attempt to get any sort of quiet, so he rolls out of bed and pads down the hall into the bathroom. He can’t be arsed to shower just yet, splashing cold water over his face to wake himself up that little bit more.
“Mmph, wh’ time ‘s it?” Sirius grumbles, cracking open one eye while rubbing at the other. He’s only been living on his own for just over a week, but already he’s taken to talking to himself. Regularly. It’s quite worrying. When he gets no answer (the day he does is the day he checks himself into the nearest mental asylum), he ducks his head out of the bathroom and peers at the wall clock Peter hung in the hall. Ten o’clock, it says at him, and Sirius groans in response. Maybe it’s not that early in the morning, but it’s early enough for a bloke who prefers to wake up on the other side of noon.
He shuffles into the small square of a kitchen, opening the refrigerator as if he’s expecting food to have magically appeared inside overnight. The contents are the same as they were last night: an empty milk bottle and two cartons of leftover takeaway. He shrugs, grabbing the chicken curry, and plops down into one of the two chairs around the table that’s pushed up against the space beneath the window. Sirius looks out over the sea of people crowded on the street below, stabbing at his cold curry with the one clean fork left in the flat. His gaze shifts to the sink, and the washing-up is still there, piled up from three days ago when he had his mates over for dinner.
It’s a right mess but it’s his mess, and Sirius actually takes pride in it. He still hears his mother’s words as he hastily packed up his trunk. You’ll be back in less than a day! You can’t make it on your own! You’re nothing without your father and I, Sirius! Nothing! Well, he’d shown her, hadn’t he? He never looked back once he arrived on the Potters’ doorstep that night. Nearly a year later, Sirius has been on his own for nine days, and Grimmauld Place seems to be a world away. He knows he’s probably blasted off the tapestry and right out of the family by now anyway. The only Blacks who were ever worth a damn are either ousted as well or dead (and funding his rebellion, thanks Uncle Alphard). What does he need them for? He has his family in the form of a werewolf, a stag, and a rat, and that’s more than good enough.
Then there are the perks to living alone. He could never have cold curry for breakfast while wearing his pyjamas before. He couldn’t wank in the living room (day two), he couldn’t walk around stark bollock naked for no good reason (days three and five), and he couldn’t leave his dirty laundry lying around until he felt like picking it up (every day so far, if he’s being honest). At Grimmauld Place, Sirius was just a pawn in his family’s game, but here he is the king. And, no, he doesn’t care how stupid James thinks that sounds.
Some hours - and a hot shower - later, after the market below has closed up shop for the day, Sirius stands in front of his bathroom mirror. He runs his fingers through his hair for the fifteenth time, pushing it over to the left rather than the right. It still looks ridiculous, so he gives up and starts all over again.
“It’s just Moony,” he mutters to himself, but his grin belies the casual tone he tries to impart to the words. He’s not ‘just Moony’, and he hasn’t been ever since they kissed. Remus isn’t exactly his girlfriend, and he would get boxed about the ears something fierce for even jokingly suggesting so, but he’s not just a friend anymore either.
#
It was two weeks before they left Hogwarts for the holidays. James and Peter were off trying to get Regina Reedley to fall in love with Peter through some half-arsed plan that seemed destined to fail. Remus was innocently sucking on the tip of a sugar quill as he and Sirius finished up their Potions essays. Sirius, shifting and squirming on the bed as he tried not to stare, ended up needing a moment. He took a passageway that led out to the roof, desperate to get out of the dorm. It didn’t help when Remus followed him out a few minutes later. They sat and talked, passed a cigarette between the two of them (which Sirius thought was cruel irony since he’d been trying to escape having to watch Remus close his lips over a phallic object), and all the while Sirius tried to deny the fact that he had been slowly falling for his friend.
Sirius had been imagining that looks had started to linger, that touches seemed to come more frequently than before, and he was certain that Remus reserved that smile just for him. For weeks (that seemed even longer after the unfortunate incident with Snape early in the term) he’d been denying it, but the stupid feeling kept nagging at Sirius, making butterflies flutter about his stomach whenever he saw Remus. And then, just as Sirius was rambling on about how insufferable whatever summer holiday his parents had planned would inevitably be, Remus leant forward and kissed him. His eyes widened and Sirius pulled back for a second to stare at Remus, who looked ready to jump off the roof, no doubt thinking the kiss was unwanted. Unwanted? No. Completely unexpected? Definitely. Sirius had never figured Remus for the ‘first move’ type, but he stopped analysing things and grabbed Remus’ wrist as he started to make a getaway. Sirius pulled him forward and their lips met again, and that time he didn’t pull away until he had to take a breath.
#
“Sirius! Dammit, Sirius, you’d better be home!”
Sirius jumps a bit at the sound of the muffled voice and the knocking at his door. He realises that he’s been so caught up in the memory of that night on the roof (and then the next night, and a few days after that, and that last kiss stuffed into a bathroom on the train) that Remus has been knocking for several seconds. He gives himself one more glance in the mirror before rushing over to let the other boy in.
Sirius pretends his heart doesn’t start to race at the sound of Remus’ voice (C‘mon, Padfoot, open up!), and he pretends his fingers don‘t fumble on the lock. He pretends his heart doesn’t leap into his throat when he sees Remus, and he pretends it doesn’t stop completely when the boy smiles at him - that certain smile, his smile.
“Hey, Moo-” Sirius begins, but he’s cut off by Remus launching himself at him. He drapes himself all over Sirius, lips seeking lips, hands curling into his hair, a soft whimper muffled between their mouths. Sirius stumbles back, kicking at the front door to close it, groaning and then laughing as he runs into the back of the sofa. Remus mumbles ‘sorry’, and then shows Sirius he means it by slipping his tongue past his lips. After a moment, Sirius realises how wrong it is to be getting off with Remus in plain sight of the crocheted doilies he’d promised Mrs Potter he’d put on his coffee table, so he gently pushes Remus back, grinning and breathless, eyes slightly wild.
“If I’d have known you were such an insatiable trollop, we would have started doing this ages ago,” Sirius breathes out, laughing as Remus punches his arm. Sirius links their fingers and pulls Remus around to the front of the couch. They sit down with barely enough room for air to pass between them, and Remus hasn‘t taken his eyes off Sirius once. Sirius sees the concerned look there, and he laughs it off.
“Don’t,” he says, gesturing dismissively in the air. “I’m fine, Moony, I already told you.”
Remus frowns, clucks his tongue softly as he gets up and moves to the end of the couch. He reaches for Sirius and pulls him down, his head landing in Remus’ lap. Sirius happily obliges, shifting until he’s flat on his back and staring up at Remus. Fingers pull through his fringe, brushing his hair back off his face.
“You’re a terrible liar, Padfoot,” Remus says, a melancholy smile on his lips. Sirius sighs, shrugging his shoulders and turning his head to the side. Remus’ fingers follow the sharp line of his jaw, tracing down the curve of his neck.
“I’m mostly fine, okay?” he admits, and it’s the truth. Sirius is mostly fine, but there have been a couple of nights where he’s really not fine at all. The first night he was there, Sirius lay awake on one side of the bed, used to having James and his sharp elbows crowd him over to the left. It was simply too quiet without his best friend softly snoring beside him. Two nights later, he wandered outside in the chilled air, unable to sleep again after James, Peter, and Remus left for their homes. Home, he had thought as he ambled along the deserted street, back to parents that loved them. After nearly getting lost in his new neighbourhood, Sirius had returned to his flat just before dawn and eventually fell asleep.
Remus doesn’t say anything so Sirius keeps on. “It’s just… it’s weird, you know? I’ve got my own bloody place. I know I could’ve stayed at James’ a bit longer, so you don’t have to say it. Mr and Mrs Potter are amazing, Remus, they really are. They treated me almost better than their own son. But… I don’t know. I couldn’t very well stay there forever, could I?”
“But why now, Sirius?” Remus asks, shaking his head even as he stroked along Sirius’ cheekbone. “It’s our last summer hols as students, and you’re sitting up in this place all by yourself. My mum is insisting on taking me along to Portugal to visit Aunt What’s-Her-Face, or else I’d have stayed behind to keep you company. And Peter’s working in his dad’s shop for the summer, so he‘ll probably be scarce.”
Sirius laughs again. “I’ll be fine, Moony, honest. I reckon James’ mum and dad would like one more summer with just their son, you know? Without me running about the place and tearing things up. They’re not exactly young, you know. I can’t imagine it was easy taking me on. I figure they deserve a break.” He shrugs another time, a sign that he’s probably making it all up as he goes along. “I’m seventeen now and I’m an adult - which makes you and me quite illegal, doesn’t it? Anyway, I need to get used to living on my own. We’re headed down the final stretch, mate. Might as well be prepared for it.”
Remus sighs, looking down at Sirius with that stubborn look that Sirius knows all too well. He’s not ready to let up. “You know Mr and Mrs Potter would love nothing more than to spoil you for one more summer. They’ve put up with you for this many school holidays. I’m sure one more isn’t a problem. Or maybe I can ask Mum and Dad if you can come away with us.”
“No, Remus, I just… I need to do this, okay?” Sirius insists. “I never really thought I’d be… well, free. I mean, living with the Potters wasn’t exactly existing on my own. And even if I hadn’t ran off and just moved out after Hogwarts, I‘d still be a part of them. Well, I’m long since taken off the tapestry.” Sirius takes a deep breath, turns his head back to gaze up at Remus. “I don’t have to play by their rules. I’m not… I’m not a Black.” It’s the first time he’s said the words out loud, and it sends an odd sensation coursing through him. He’s not sure if it’s uncertainty or relief.
“Of course you’re still a Black, Sirius,” Remus says, shaking his head. He can’t possibly understand, Sirius realises, because he’s just like James. He has two parents that didn’t even let his being a werewolf disrupt their love for him; Sirius was sorted into the “wrong” house, and it seemed as if his mother and father were ready to disown him over that alone.
He smiles up at Remus, shaking his head in return. “Not according to them. See, that’s how it works: if your name is erased from the sacred tapestry, then it’s like you never existed. Regulus doesn’t have a brother, and Moth- Walburga and Orion have the perfect little heir they’ve always wanted. Your boyfriend is a nameless entity, I’m afraid.” Sirius freezes a moment later, staring up at Remus to gauge his reaction. They haven’t labelled anything yet; they’ve not really had the time. The term just sort of slipped out before Sirius could stop himself.
“Oh, I’ve a boyfriend? I wasn’t aware,” Remus teases, smirking down at Sirius. “I guess I shouldn’t have gone on that date last night then. My mistake.”
Sirius slaps at the thigh beneath his head, narrowing his eyes at Remus even though he’s smiling. “I can perform magic outside of school now, you know. You go on a date with anybody that’s not me, and he’s gonna find himself missing a vital piece of his anatomy.”
Remus’ laugh muffled against Sirius’ lips as he bent forward to kiss him. “I thought proper dates would be a bit too poncy for you, but don’t you worry,” he says, and his hand is suddenly creeping beneath Sirius’ shirt, fingers splaying over the flat plane of his belly. “I’m apparently too stupid to see how terribly wrong you are for me.”
Sirius is too preoccupied with the hand on his skin to give much thought to Remus’ actual words. They’ve only really snogged up until now. Sirius briefly wonders if it’s the sheer freedom of being able to do whatever they want that’s making Remus move faster than he would’ve guessed. Then he realises that he just doesn’t care. He reaches up and curls his fingers around the back of Remus’ neck, pulling him down further as he licks along the curve of his bottom lip. Remus lets out a quiet whine, possibly in protest at the extremely awkward angle, but Sirius takes it to mean that he wants more.
Sliding out from beneath Remus, Sirius pushes him down onto the couch. He kneels over the boy, grinning as Remus moans the moment Sirius’ lips touch his neck. Just as his fingers find the fly of Remus’ trousers, Sirius glances over and catches sight of the cream-coloured linen mats draped across his table. He pauses for a moment, contemplating moving the entire operation into the bedroom. But when Remus whimpers his name, arching up into his touch and practically begging for Sirius to keep going, Sirius doesn’t let anything distract him again.
Mrs Potter’s doilies are just going to have to cope.