isiscolo & jeddy83
Author: isiscolo
Title: Hot Pursuit
Pairing: Kingsley/Remus
Theme: Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each
bush an officer - Shakespeare, King Henry IV Part III, Act V Scene VI.
They'd always met at his flat, or in Diagon Alley. Once he'd archly
suggested that Remus never invited him to his cottage because he had a lover
hidden away.
"Or perhaps you're married," Kingsley had said, running a lazy hand down
Remus's naked torso.
"Married with seven children. You've found me out," Remus murmured, bending
again to Kingsley's cock; soon all conversation had dissolved into moans.
Not that Kingsley actually believed Remus was married, which was why he
surreptitiously looked up his direction and Apparated there one evening with
a bottle of wine and a basket of good French bread and cheese and sausage.
Which was why he was currently pinned to the wall by an enormous black dog.
Who growled deep in his throat, disdainfully ignoring the bribe of a
sausage link, and did not move until Remus returned.
"Down, Padfoot."
"Good thing he listens to you."
Remus gave him a pointed glance. "At least somebody does."
"Well. We're lovers, Remus. You should trust me."
"Should I?" Remus looked not at him, but at the dog. "Are you still
chasing Black?"
"You, of all people, ought to want --"
"Sit down," interrupted Remus. "There's something you should know."
Author: jeddy83
Title: A Tangled Web
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 3145
A/N: Huge thanks to Delphi and Ntamara for looking this over.
"Get you another?"
Kingsley dragged his gaze away from the spinning spheres on the timepiece over the bar to see Remus slide onto the stool beside him, his hair wild and his robe hanging askew. He looked flushed and to Kingsley's eyes uncharacteristically rumpled as though he'd roused himself only moments before he'd appeared.
"Not enough time," Kingsley said. He shook his head somewhat impatiently, but his eyes never quite left the stark line of Remus's collarbone peeking out where it shouldn't be through the open vee of his neckline.
"Sorry about that," Remus said, flashing an apologetic smile. His hand came up without him seeming aware of it, and smoothed the front of his robe, pulling his unruly collar into line. "Had trouble getting away."
Kingsley frowned and glanced up at Remus, looking him full in the face. "That little job for Dumbledore again, right?"
"Right." Remus fidgeted with a frayed spot on the cuff of his robe, then seemed to realise it and stopped.
He said nothing further.
The little pot of irritation that had been warming while Kingsley waited bubbled into life. Damn the man anyway for being so closed-mouthed. They never had enough time together, and Remus never made things easy. He tore a off a hunk of bread and jabbed it at his plate, soaking up the gravy before shoving it into his mouth.
The Leaky Cauldron was full to bursting with the lunchtime rush, a seething, boiling mass of clinking glassware and inane chatter that played havoc with his senses, ratcheting his irritation up higher. He couldn't seem to catch his breath or think.
Not wanting to lose his cool completely, he took a calming breath, and then another, followed by a long swallow of ale. It wasn't like Remus's reticence was unexpected. Hell, it was practically legendary, and rather refreshing in its own way. Most of the time. When it wasn't bloody annoying.
He took another swallow, and Remus leant forward and squeezed his knee.
"Look, if you're not in the mood, it's fine. We could just stay in the bar, have that drink. There's no law against it."
Kingsley considered that for a moment, half-tempted by the image of them relaxing over a drink or two, and chased the remains of his stew around the plate. He was tired of maintaining a composed facade, tired of being sensible, reasonable, of holding everything in. He wanted nothing more than to be outside of his skin, just for a moment or two. Then the chaos around him intruded once again, and he realised this wasn't the time, or the place.
"Kingsley?"
That was why he dropped his fork with a clatter, shoved the plate away, and slipped off the stool. "No, lets just... Come on."
He wound his way between the crowded tables, and collected a room key from the publican, leaving Remus to follow him to an upstairs room.
The emotion driving him had cooled by the time they closed the door behind them, leaving him slightly numb. Their first encounter had been a quick grope in the gents downstairs, and they had returned often. Mid-day shags that felt all the more decadent for knowing there were crowds of people going about their ordinary business just on the other side of the door. In fact they had shagged in rooms up and down Diagon Alley, some squalid, some sumptuous. Lately, however, the rooms and times had seemed to blur together. Their liaisons had become not perfunctory just unremarkable, empty, giving the whole affair an increasingly sordid air.
Remus, however, didn't seem to feel any of that. He was standing just inside the door, stripping himself efficiently, as he always did. His shoes were already kicked off beneath a chair, his robe unbuttoned and hung on a hook behind the door.
Kingsley himself merely sat on the edge of the bed, plucking at the coverlet.
"Something the matter?" Remus asked, pausing in the act of draping his trousers over the chair.
"It would be nice," Kingsley said slowly, "to do this..." - somewhere comfortable - somewhere familiar - somewhere that didn't charge by the hour - "somewhere we could take our time."
Remus gave him a funny half smile. "So your place next time then," he said, and turned, fishing his wand and a small pot of lubricant from a pocket in his robes.
"Or yours," he muttered, the thought of his cold room in the Auror housing not much better, as Remus placed his wand beneath a pillow and the uncapped pot on the nightstand.
It was a forlorn hope. A home revealed much about a person's character, and he wanted to see for himself all the things Remus wouldn't say. But much as he would love to see it, these seedy fumbles, or the odd night in his rooms were all that Remus would allow.
"Enough talk, Shacklebolt," Remus said, with a rasp that sent shivers down his spine. "We could have done that downstairs."
And Remus was suddenly on his lap, on him, burrowing fingers beneath his robes. Every naked inch pressed against him.
Kingsley would have sworn, not a moment ago, that this was the last thing he wanted, but he felt the thrill of arousal low in his belly. Apparently, wanting Remus - whenever, wherever - wasn't the problem. No, he merely wanted more than Remus was prepared to give.
Kingsley wrapped his arms around Remus, engulfing him, catching the low cry of surprise with his lips and tongue. It wasn't enough. He pulled him tighter, closer, grinding their hips together. Then they went down in a heap, Remus struggling to free him of his robes while his hips jerked, cock straining for friction, and they snaked across the bed to the soft sound of Remus's laughter.
Laughter that made him shudder, unnamed longing coiling up his spine, then made him lie still.
With the robes finally off, Remus sat back on his haunches between his upraised thighs.
"Tell me," he said, sliding his hands down from Kingsley's knees, "do you want this?" Deft hands continued their journey up and over his groin, thumbs stroking his erection one after the other.
"Remus."
"Or this?" he asked, suckling at the head of Kingsley's cock, pants and all.
A groan that Kingsley couldn't suppress spilled from his mouth. However, he wasn't in the mood for such teasing, and lifted his hips, grumbling, "What I want is for you to get these things off."
Remus obliged, a wicked glint in his eyes as he slowly peeled them away, inch by tortuous inch.
Kingsley drew his knees together as the pants came down past his hips, and then lifted his legs to help. "Fuck - my boots," he said, noticing the awkward weight of his feet for the first time.
Remus drew them carefully over each one, buckles flashing in the sunlight as he picked up first one foot and then the other, and set them down again, boots still in place.
"I rather like them," he said, leaning forward on hands and knees to whisper the words directly into Kingsley's ear.
"Kinky bastard," Kingsley returned, groaning as Remus swirled his tongue around his ear.
But Remus just laughed, a throaty chuckle that went straight to Kingsley's cock. Or perhaps that was Remus's hand, which was wanking him slowly, even as he hauled Kingsley's thigh over his shoulder. Remus slid downward, mouth marking the slow journey from Kingsley's knee to the crease of his thigh, nipping and sucking, sinking teeth into soft flesh.
Kingsley lost the last measure of coherence when hot breath lapped at his balls and he was drowned in that molten mouth. He craned his head, watching Remus's cheeks hollow with each soul-stealing suck, heavy lidded in pleasure, until he spent himself in a dizzying rush.
By the time Kingsley had caught his breath, his boots had been spelled off, and he felt a hand stroking the thick layer of muscle over his ribs. Remus lay beside him, forehead puckered in thought.
"Knut for them," Kingsley asked.
Remus snatched the hand away, an odd look flickering across his face. Something Kingsley couldn't quite place. If he hadn't known better he might have thought it was guilt.
"Just wondering where you'll be next week."
"We will catch him, Remus," Kingsley said, answering the question Remus hadn't asked.
Remus made as if to turn onto his back, but Kingsley hooked an arm and a leg around him and dragged him close.
"Trust me. We'll get him eventually; Black can't hold out forever."
"I know," Remus said, and shivered. "But will you be around next week?"
"Too early to be thinking about next week," Kingsley said lightly, reaching between them. "We haven't finished this go yet."
He found Remus's cock and ran his fingers over the shaft. Remus rolled toward him easily, but Kingsley felt the stiff muscles of his back as he slipped his hand down from Remus's shoulder, and the taut buttock as he squeezed Remus's left cheek.
"But still," Remus said, urgent.
"Friday night, then," Kingsley said, and entangled their legs together, pulling Remus's top leg forward. He reached past Remus, dipping his fingers into the pot on the nightstand, and set up a slow rhythm with the other hand.
"Day after the full," Remus gasped, as Kingsley swept slick fingers into the sweaty crevice between his buttocks.
"Right. And I'm following up on a sighting in Calais next week," he said, and pushed two fingers inside Remus, feeling the exact moment the tension drained from him with a rolling shudder.
Remus began to move, spearing himself again and again on those fingers and whining "Oh... please..." deep in his throat.
His hips jerked restlessly, out of sync with the hand on his cock, and he stretched his neck and kissed Kingsley fiercely, all heat and teeth, until his the hottest part of him pulsed in Kingsley's hand and warmth sluiced between his fingers.
"Your place?" Kingsley asked later, while Remus buttoned his robe.
Remus turned, emotion stripped from his face. "Don't ask me for that," he said, then Apparated away with a muffled crack.
*
The next time they met, Kingsley hauled Remus up against him, even before the door latched behind him. He didn't want to waste a second. "Missed you."
"I know," Remus said, which might have meant that he understood how Kingsley felt, or even that he felt the same way. Kingsley couldn't tell.
He leant them both against the closing door, pushing it all the way shut, and kissed Remus, holding his face with between his hands and smoothing the lines of puzzlement on his brow with a thumb. "Missed this," he said again.
He held him there for long moments, mouth insistent, the bottle of wine Remus carried pressed uncomfortably between them, until Remus tipped his head back against the door with a smile.
"Drink?" Remus asked.
"Later," Kingsley muttered, thumbing open the top button of Remus's robe and burying his face against the warm skin beneath. Then he pulled Remus by the robe front and led him toward the bed, pausing to drop the wine off on the counter of the tiny kitchenette and scattering clothing as they went.
They moved in an odd staggering waltz, knocked the coffee table on the way past, sending a pile of books on detection charms stacked on top sliding to the floor, and stumbled over his collection of hexed broomsticks that poked out from under the bed.
"Will you stay?" he asked, following Remus down onto the bed.
"I can't," Remus said, his mouth tense and unhappy.
"It's been three weeks, Remus. Surely you can spare me one night."
Remus twisted beneath him and rolled on top. "I must... I've other commitments."
"I see," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "Taking care of your elderly mother, are you? Sets the place alight making the tea, does she?"
Remus nuzzled at his groin, then slid back up, straddling his thighs with a wry smile. "You know, Kingsley, now's not really the time to be considering one's mother."
"Or perhaps you're married," Kingsley said, running a lazy hand down Remus's naked torso.
"Married with seven children. You've found me out," Remus murmured, bending again to Kingsley's cock.
Kingsley sensed his curiosity was being deflected, but in the rush of toe-curling sensations that followed, he let it pass.
He was only half awake when Remus slipped out of bed some hours later, a rush of cool air announcing his departure. He listened drowsily as the other man crept about the darkened room.
After a few moments of silence, he felt the bed dip, the soft warmth of a cheek laid against his shoulder, the dry press of lips to the nape of his neck. "Stay," he said.
And thought he heard, "There's nothing I'd like better," murmured in reply.
Come daylight, however, he could no longer be certain, but decided right then and there he would wait no longer for Remus to reveal his secrets.
*
That was why he was currently pinned to the wall by an enormous black dog. The dog growled deep in his throat, and the basket on Kingsley's arm slipped as he reached for his wand, spilling bread, wine and sausage onto the floral patterned carpet.
Fortuitous, perhaps, he thought, but the dog failed to be distracted by the smell of the sausage. It was something of a stand-off; he didn't want to hurt Remus's pet, and held it off at wand-point, until Remus rushed in the door.
"What the hell," he said, and his eyes widened. "Down, Padfoot."
The dog didn't listen and continued to growl when Remus dragged him away by the collar. "Enough," Remus said, giving the dog a little shake, hand still on the collar.
"Good thing he listens to you," Kingsley said, with a quirk of his mouth. He let his wand hand drop. "Is this your project for Dumbledore?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"Training attack dogs, are we?"
Remus's lips twitched. "Not exactly. He's just the jealous type."
At that the dog jerked free of Remus's grip. He snarled and lunged for Kingsley and transformed, body shuddering its way into an angular human form.
"Black!" Kingsley yelled, in astonishment.
He had his wand up in an instant, dropping the basket as he flung his other hand out for balance, but Remus was quicker. In a flash, he had thrown his arm across Black's chest and pushed the other man behind himself.
"Out of the way, Remus," he said sharply. "Don't make me hurt you."
"No."
"I don't know what kind of hold he has over you, but you of all people ought to want..."
"No, he's not what you think."
Kingsley narrowed his eyes. "He's exactly what I think. Dangerous."
"Then you know nothing," Black said.
It was a different kind of stand-off this time. Oh, he still had his wand out, and Black still snarled at him, but Remus stood between them, pushing him truly onto the back foot.
"How did you find us?" Remus asked, shifting his weight from one hip to the other and folding his arms in front of his chest.
"Moody."
"Moody. Then you know something. How much?"
Kingsley's gaze shifted to Black face, and then back again. "I really don't think we should be discussing this in front of him."
He saw Black bristle visibly.
Then Remus said, "He knows everything I know."
"Moody has spoken to me about Dumbledore's Order," Kingsley replied, against his better judgement as apparently the damage was already done.
"Well then, I think there are some other things you need to know. Look, perhaps we could sit down."
Kingsley didn't relax his posture one iota, wary of being taken off guard. "No, I don't think so."
Remus sighed. "Then you won't mind if we do," he said, shoved Black down when he wouldn't budge, and settled beside him, protectively close. "Sirius didn't betray the Potters; Peter did."
"Peter Pettigrew," he repeated, processing this odd information. "But Black was the Potter's Secret-Keeper. He killed Pettigrew."
"Or so all the fools at the Ministry believe," Black said, with an edge of derision.
"Sirius," Remus said, in an admonishing tone. "You... you're not helping." To Kingsley he said, "Pettigrew is alive; I've seen him. He's been hiding out in his Animagus form all these years."
"Another Animagus, really?" Kingsley said, sarcasm colouring his voice.
"All my friends were Animagi," Remus said, looking distantly amused as though reminded of an old joke.
Kingsley listened to the story he was being told, incredulous, and examined Remus carefully as he spoke.
Remus touched Black constantly, his hand, his knee, even cupping the side of his face at one point, and smiled at him fondly as he described their teenage romps, betraying no sign of nerves.
"Am I supposed to believe this?" Kingsley asked when Remus had finished.
"That depends on how much you trust me, I suppose."
"I shouldn't," Kingsley said. He didn't. How could he when Remus had just proved himself the worst kind of liar? Yet every instinct he possessed told him that, strange as it was, this was the truth. "Who else knows?"
"Dumbledore. A few members of the Order. Harry and his friends."
"Dumbledore," he breathed, and lowered his wand. "So what happens now?"
"You leave," Black said, eyes flashing. "There's no place for you here."
"Sirius," Remus said, glancing between them both. "I don't want to give you up." He met Kingsley's eyes. "Either of you."
Black sucked in a sharp breath, even as Kingsley felt hope swelling inside him. "You said he meant nothing. Were you lying to me all this time?"
"Sirius, no. I... not at first," Remus said, shying away from the heat in Black's gaze.
"Not at first," Black bellowed. "Not. At. First."
He pushed Remus aside, face darkening with rage and then darkening further as he donned the dog's black coat and bolted out the door.
"Shouldn't you go after him?" Kingsley asked, retrieving the wine bottle from the floor. He spelled out the cork and took a slug straight from the bottle.
"He'll be back," Remus said, still staring in the direction Black had gone. He rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers, looking worn and grey.
Kingsley couldn't quite bring himself to offer Remus comfort, but sank down on the other end of the couch and offered him the wine bottle.
Remus shook his head at it tiredly.
"No, go on. You look like you could use a drink," Kingsley said, pressing the bottle on Remus, who took it and set it on the floor by his feet. Then he asked, more thoughtfully, "How do you know?"
Remus buried his face in shaking hands. "He has no place else to go."
Title: Hot Pursuit
Pairing: Kingsley/Remus
Theme: Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each
bush an officer - Shakespeare, King Henry IV Part III, Act V Scene VI.
They'd always met at his flat, or in Diagon Alley. Once he'd archly
suggested that Remus never invited him to his cottage because he had a lover
hidden away.
"Or perhaps you're married," Kingsley had said, running a lazy hand down
Remus's naked torso.
"Married with seven children. You've found me out," Remus murmured, bending
again to Kingsley's cock; soon all conversation had dissolved into moans.
Not that Kingsley actually believed Remus was married, which was why he
surreptitiously looked up his direction and Apparated there one evening with
a bottle of wine and a basket of good French bread and cheese and sausage.
Which was why he was currently pinned to the wall by an enormous black dog.
Who growled deep in his throat, disdainfully ignoring the bribe of a
sausage link, and did not move until Remus returned.
"Down, Padfoot."
"Good thing he listens to you."
Remus gave him a pointed glance. "At least somebody does."
"Well. We're lovers, Remus. You should trust me."
"Should I?" Remus looked not at him, but at the dog. "Are you still
chasing Black?"
"You, of all people, ought to want --"
"Sit down," interrupted Remus. "There's something you should know."
Author: jeddy83
Title: A Tangled Web
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 3145
A/N: Huge thanks to Delphi and Ntamara for looking this over.
"Get you another?"
Kingsley dragged his gaze away from the spinning spheres on the timepiece over the bar to see Remus slide onto the stool beside him, his hair wild and his robe hanging askew. He looked flushed and to Kingsley's eyes uncharacteristically rumpled as though he'd roused himself only moments before he'd appeared.
"Not enough time," Kingsley said. He shook his head somewhat impatiently, but his eyes never quite left the stark line of Remus's collarbone peeking out where it shouldn't be through the open vee of his neckline.
"Sorry about that," Remus said, flashing an apologetic smile. His hand came up without him seeming aware of it, and smoothed the front of his robe, pulling his unruly collar into line. "Had trouble getting away."
Kingsley frowned and glanced up at Remus, looking him full in the face. "That little job for Dumbledore again, right?"
"Right." Remus fidgeted with a frayed spot on the cuff of his robe, then seemed to realise it and stopped.
He said nothing further.
The little pot of irritation that had been warming while Kingsley waited bubbled into life. Damn the man anyway for being so closed-mouthed. They never had enough time together, and Remus never made things easy. He tore a off a hunk of bread and jabbed it at his plate, soaking up the gravy before shoving it into his mouth.
The Leaky Cauldron was full to bursting with the lunchtime rush, a seething, boiling mass of clinking glassware and inane chatter that played havoc with his senses, ratcheting his irritation up higher. He couldn't seem to catch his breath or think.
Not wanting to lose his cool completely, he took a calming breath, and then another, followed by a long swallow of ale. It wasn't like Remus's reticence was unexpected. Hell, it was practically legendary, and rather refreshing in its own way. Most of the time. When it wasn't bloody annoying.
He took another swallow, and Remus leant forward and squeezed his knee.
"Look, if you're not in the mood, it's fine. We could just stay in the bar, have that drink. There's no law against it."
Kingsley considered that for a moment, half-tempted by the image of them relaxing over a drink or two, and chased the remains of his stew around the plate. He was tired of maintaining a composed facade, tired of being sensible, reasonable, of holding everything in. He wanted nothing more than to be outside of his skin, just for a moment or two. Then the chaos around him intruded once again, and he realised this wasn't the time, or the place.
"Kingsley?"
That was why he dropped his fork with a clatter, shoved the plate away, and slipped off the stool. "No, lets just... Come on."
He wound his way between the crowded tables, and collected a room key from the publican, leaving Remus to follow him to an upstairs room.
The emotion driving him had cooled by the time they closed the door behind them, leaving him slightly numb. Their first encounter had been a quick grope in the gents downstairs, and they had returned often. Mid-day shags that felt all the more decadent for knowing there were crowds of people going about their ordinary business just on the other side of the door. In fact they had shagged in rooms up and down Diagon Alley, some squalid, some sumptuous. Lately, however, the rooms and times had seemed to blur together. Their liaisons had become not perfunctory just unremarkable, empty, giving the whole affair an increasingly sordid air.
Remus, however, didn't seem to feel any of that. He was standing just inside the door, stripping himself efficiently, as he always did. His shoes were already kicked off beneath a chair, his robe unbuttoned and hung on a hook behind the door.
Kingsley himself merely sat on the edge of the bed, plucking at the coverlet.
"Something the matter?" Remus asked, pausing in the act of draping his trousers over the chair.
"It would be nice," Kingsley said slowly, "to do this..." - somewhere comfortable - somewhere familiar - somewhere that didn't charge by the hour - "somewhere we could take our time."
Remus gave him a funny half smile. "So your place next time then," he said, and turned, fishing his wand and a small pot of lubricant from a pocket in his robes.
"Or yours," he muttered, the thought of his cold room in the Auror housing not much better, as Remus placed his wand beneath a pillow and the uncapped pot on the nightstand.
It was a forlorn hope. A home revealed much about a person's character, and he wanted to see for himself all the things Remus wouldn't say. But much as he would love to see it, these seedy fumbles, or the odd night in his rooms were all that Remus would allow.
"Enough talk, Shacklebolt," Remus said, with a rasp that sent shivers down his spine. "We could have done that downstairs."
And Remus was suddenly on his lap, on him, burrowing fingers beneath his robes. Every naked inch pressed against him.
Kingsley would have sworn, not a moment ago, that this was the last thing he wanted, but he felt the thrill of arousal low in his belly. Apparently, wanting Remus - whenever, wherever - wasn't the problem. No, he merely wanted more than Remus was prepared to give.
Kingsley wrapped his arms around Remus, engulfing him, catching the low cry of surprise with his lips and tongue. It wasn't enough. He pulled him tighter, closer, grinding their hips together. Then they went down in a heap, Remus struggling to free him of his robes while his hips jerked, cock straining for friction, and they snaked across the bed to the soft sound of Remus's laughter.
Laughter that made him shudder, unnamed longing coiling up his spine, then made him lie still.
With the robes finally off, Remus sat back on his haunches between his upraised thighs.
"Tell me," he said, sliding his hands down from Kingsley's knees, "do you want this?" Deft hands continued their journey up and over his groin, thumbs stroking his erection one after the other.
"Remus."
"Or this?" he asked, suckling at the head of Kingsley's cock, pants and all.
A groan that Kingsley couldn't suppress spilled from his mouth. However, he wasn't in the mood for such teasing, and lifted his hips, grumbling, "What I want is for you to get these things off."
Remus obliged, a wicked glint in his eyes as he slowly peeled them away, inch by tortuous inch.
Kingsley drew his knees together as the pants came down past his hips, and then lifted his legs to help. "Fuck - my boots," he said, noticing the awkward weight of his feet for the first time.
Remus drew them carefully over each one, buckles flashing in the sunlight as he picked up first one foot and then the other, and set them down again, boots still in place.
"I rather like them," he said, leaning forward on hands and knees to whisper the words directly into Kingsley's ear.
"Kinky bastard," Kingsley returned, groaning as Remus swirled his tongue around his ear.
But Remus just laughed, a throaty chuckle that went straight to Kingsley's cock. Or perhaps that was Remus's hand, which was wanking him slowly, even as he hauled Kingsley's thigh over his shoulder. Remus slid downward, mouth marking the slow journey from Kingsley's knee to the crease of his thigh, nipping and sucking, sinking teeth into soft flesh.
Kingsley lost the last measure of coherence when hot breath lapped at his balls and he was drowned in that molten mouth. He craned his head, watching Remus's cheeks hollow with each soul-stealing suck, heavy lidded in pleasure, until he spent himself in a dizzying rush.
By the time Kingsley had caught his breath, his boots had been spelled off, and he felt a hand stroking the thick layer of muscle over his ribs. Remus lay beside him, forehead puckered in thought.
"Knut for them," Kingsley asked.
Remus snatched the hand away, an odd look flickering across his face. Something Kingsley couldn't quite place. If he hadn't known better he might have thought it was guilt.
"Just wondering where you'll be next week."
"We will catch him, Remus," Kingsley said, answering the question Remus hadn't asked.
Remus made as if to turn onto his back, but Kingsley hooked an arm and a leg around him and dragged him close.
"Trust me. We'll get him eventually; Black can't hold out forever."
"I know," Remus said, and shivered. "But will you be around next week?"
"Too early to be thinking about next week," Kingsley said lightly, reaching between them. "We haven't finished this go yet."
He found Remus's cock and ran his fingers over the shaft. Remus rolled toward him easily, but Kingsley felt the stiff muscles of his back as he slipped his hand down from Remus's shoulder, and the taut buttock as he squeezed Remus's left cheek.
"But still," Remus said, urgent.
"Friday night, then," Kingsley said, and entangled their legs together, pulling Remus's top leg forward. He reached past Remus, dipping his fingers into the pot on the nightstand, and set up a slow rhythm with the other hand.
"Day after the full," Remus gasped, as Kingsley swept slick fingers into the sweaty crevice between his buttocks.
"Right. And I'm following up on a sighting in Calais next week," he said, and pushed two fingers inside Remus, feeling the exact moment the tension drained from him with a rolling shudder.
Remus began to move, spearing himself again and again on those fingers and whining "Oh... please..." deep in his throat.
His hips jerked restlessly, out of sync with the hand on his cock, and he stretched his neck and kissed Kingsley fiercely, all heat and teeth, until his the hottest part of him pulsed in Kingsley's hand and warmth sluiced between his fingers.
"Your place?" Kingsley asked later, while Remus buttoned his robe.
Remus turned, emotion stripped from his face. "Don't ask me for that," he said, then Apparated away with a muffled crack.
*
The next time they met, Kingsley hauled Remus up against him, even before the door latched behind him. He didn't want to waste a second. "Missed you."
"I know," Remus said, which might have meant that he understood how Kingsley felt, or even that he felt the same way. Kingsley couldn't tell.
He leant them both against the closing door, pushing it all the way shut, and kissed Remus, holding his face with between his hands and smoothing the lines of puzzlement on his brow with a thumb. "Missed this," he said again.
He held him there for long moments, mouth insistent, the bottle of wine Remus carried pressed uncomfortably between them, until Remus tipped his head back against the door with a smile.
"Drink?" Remus asked.
"Later," Kingsley muttered, thumbing open the top button of Remus's robe and burying his face against the warm skin beneath. Then he pulled Remus by the robe front and led him toward the bed, pausing to drop the wine off on the counter of the tiny kitchenette and scattering clothing as they went.
They moved in an odd staggering waltz, knocked the coffee table on the way past, sending a pile of books on detection charms stacked on top sliding to the floor, and stumbled over his collection of hexed broomsticks that poked out from under the bed.
"Will you stay?" he asked, following Remus down onto the bed.
"I can't," Remus said, his mouth tense and unhappy.
"It's been three weeks, Remus. Surely you can spare me one night."
Remus twisted beneath him and rolled on top. "I must... I've other commitments."
"I see," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "Taking care of your elderly mother, are you? Sets the place alight making the tea, does she?"
Remus nuzzled at his groin, then slid back up, straddling his thighs with a wry smile. "You know, Kingsley, now's not really the time to be considering one's mother."
"Or perhaps you're married," Kingsley said, running a lazy hand down Remus's naked torso.
"Married with seven children. You've found me out," Remus murmured, bending again to Kingsley's cock.
Kingsley sensed his curiosity was being deflected, but in the rush of toe-curling sensations that followed, he let it pass.
He was only half awake when Remus slipped out of bed some hours later, a rush of cool air announcing his departure. He listened drowsily as the other man crept about the darkened room.
After a few moments of silence, he felt the bed dip, the soft warmth of a cheek laid against his shoulder, the dry press of lips to the nape of his neck. "Stay," he said.
And thought he heard, "There's nothing I'd like better," murmured in reply.
Come daylight, however, he could no longer be certain, but decided right then and there he would wait no longer for Remus to reveal his secrets.
*
That was why he was currently pinned to the wall by an enormous black dog. The dog growled deep in his throat, and the basket on Kingsley's arm slipped as he reached for his wand, spilling bread, wine and sausage onto the floral patterned carpet.
Fortuitous, perhaps, he thought, but the dog failed to be distracted by the smell of the sausage. It was something of a stand-off; he didn't want to hurt Remus's pet, and held it off at wand-point, until Remus rushed in the door.
"What the hell," he said, and his eyes widened. "Down, Padfoot."
The dog didn't listen and continued to growl when Remus dragged him away by the collar. "Enough," Remus said, giving the dog a little shake, hand still on the collar.
"Good thing he listens to you," Kingsley said, with a quirk of his mouth. He let his wand hand drop. "Is this your project for Dumbledore?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"Training attack dogs, are we?"
Remus's lips twitched. "Not exactly. He's just the jealous type."
At that the dog jerked free of Remus's grip. He snarled and lunged for Kingsley and transformed, body shuddering its way into an angular human form.
"Black!" Kingsley yelled, in astonishment.
He had his wand up in an instant, dropping the basket as he flung his other hand out for balance, but Remus was quicker. In a flash, he had thrown his arm across Black's chest and pushed the other man behind himself.
"Out of the way, Remus," he said sharply. "Don't make me hurt you."
"No."
"I don't know what kind of hold he has over you, but you of all people ought to want..."
"No, he's not what you think."
Kingsley narrowed his eyes. "He's exactly what I think. Dangerous."
"Then you know nothing," Black said.
It was a different kind of stand-off this time. Oh, he still had his wand out, and Black still snarled at him, but Remus stood between them, pushing him truly onto the back foot.
"How did you find us?" Remus asked, shifting his weight from one hip to the other and folding his arms in front of his chest.
"Moody."
"Moody. Then you know something. How much?"
Kingsley's gaze shifted to Black face, and then back again. "I really don't think we should be discussing this in front of him."
He saw Black bristle visibly.
Then Remus said, "He knows everything I know."
"Moody has spoken to me about Dumbledore's Order," Kingsley replied, against his better judgement as apparently the damage was already done.
"Well then, I think there are some other things you need to know. Look, perhaps we could sit down."
Kingsley didn't relax his posture one iota, wary of being taken off guard. "No, I don't think so."
Remus sighed. "Then you won't mind if we do," he said, shoved Black down when he wouldn't budge, and settled beside him, protectively close. "Sirius didn't betray the Potters; Peter did."
"Peter Pettigrew," he repeated, processing this odd information. "But Black was the Potter's Secret-Keeper. He killed Pettigrew."
"Or so all the fools at the Ministry believe," Black said, with an edge of derision.
"Sirius," Remus said, in an admonishing tone. "You... you're not helping." To Kingsley he said, "Pettigrew is alive; I've seen him. He's been hiding out in his Animagus form all these years."
"Another Animagus, really?" Kingsley said, sarcasm colouring his voice.
"All my friends were Animagi," Remus said, looking distantly amused as though reminded of an old joke.
Kingsley listened to the story he was being told, incredulous, and examined Remus carefully as he spoke.
Remus touched Black constantly, his hand, his knee, even cupping the side of his face at one point, and smiled at him fondly as he described their teenage romps, betraying no sign of nerves.
"Am I supposed to believe this?" Kingsley asked when Remus had finished.
"That depends on how much you trust me, I suppose."
"I shouldn't," Kingsley said. He didn't. How could he when Remus had just proved himself the worst kind of liar? Yet every instinct he possessed told him that, strange as it was, this was the truth. "Who else knows?"
"Dumbledore. A few members of the Order. Harry and his friends."
"Dumbledore," he breathed, and lowered his wand. "So what happens now?"
"You leave," Black said, eyes flashing. "There's no place for you here."
"Sirius," Remus said, glancing between them both. "I don't want to give you up." He met Kingsley's eyes. "Either of you."
Black sucked in a sharp breath, even as Kingsley felt hope swelling inside him. "You said he meant nothing. Were you lying to me all this time?"
"Sirius, no. I... not at first," Remus said, shying away from the heat in Black's gaze.
"Not at first," Black bellowed. "Not. At. First."
He pushed Remus aside, face darkening with rage and then darkening further as he donned the dog's black coat and bolted out the door.
"Shouldn't you go after him?" Kingsley asked, retrieving the wine bottle from the floor. He spelled out the cork and took a slug straight from the bottle.
"He'll be back," Remus said, still staring in the direction Black had gone. He rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers, looking worn and grey.
Kingsley couldn't quite bring himself to offer Remus comfort, but sank down on the other end of the couch and offered him the wine bottle.
Remus shook his head at it tiredly.
"No, go on. You look like you could use a drink," Kingsley said, pressing the bottle on Remus, who took it and set it on the floor by his feet. Then he asked, more thoughtfully, "How do you know?"
Remus buried his face in shaking hands. "He has no place else to go."