FIC: Do Wizards Dream of Magical Sheep? 11/? (WIP, Potterverse, Remus/Sirius)
Do Wizards Dream of Magical Sheep?
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Remus/Sirius
NC-17
Spoilers for all the books, up to HBP.
Summary: Set during HBP. Dead is dead, unless you're a wizard. Then things can get...complicated.
Notes: Slight modifications in time and space may have been made, altering this from the books. But if you can't tell, it's already an AU, so hey, make of that what you will.
Warnings: Hey, this is sort of dark. If you don't like dark stuff? Please dial a different number. :)
~*~
He hid the wand, burying it on the top shelves in Remus's closet behind old boxes and well-worn rain hats.
It was all he could think to do, fear of the burning compulsion shivering over him as he paced the room. Back tonight, Remus had said. He would be back tonight and the light behind the curtains was already rose-kissed and dimming to violet.
It was ironic, perhaps, that he'd told Dumbledore he wouldn't commit suicide. At the time, he hadn't been able to imagine it. Oh, he'd die fighting for the Order,
(and had, hadn't he, a memory, faded somehow behind pain and light)
and if they had chosen to kill him, Sirius liked to think he would have accepted his execution with grace so long as they kept his torment to death alone. Nothing could be worse than the dementors, he'd supposed. Separation from his godson…from Harry, he thought savagely, fighting down his urge to change, well, that he'd done before, twelve years of it. He'd withstood it all and hadn't felt the urge to die.
Today he would have killed himself a dozen times over, if he could have. If his will had been his own, as it obviously wasn't. Every time he thought of a way to manage it, and the Order had kept him from the knives but there were always more creative means, the urge drained from him.
It was all he could do to leave the wand where it was. The urge to get it, to use it itched over him like the sting of a thousand fire ants. He paced the small room, ten steps by ten steps, wearing one of Remus's shirts that smelled like him. And waited.
The sound of the floo made his heart seize in his chest, a familiar wash of red lapping into his vision. He turned to see Remus step out, shaking the ash from his robes. His tired eyes were faintly swollen, dropping slightly to meet Sirius's. Everything was tinted crimson, compulsion forcing his feet to carry him towards the hearth.
But there was no anger, no furious thirst for blood and when strong arms wrapped around him, he managed to stop, let them hold him. Remus's face was damp against his neck, faint ticklish breath. Sirius raised his eyes to the ceiling and watched as the crimson faded, the dull ivory of the wall plaster reasserting itself. Slowly, he managed to move, sliding his arms around Remus in a firm hold, barely keeping from digging his nails in to cling like a child.
"I'm sorry," Remus murmured, lips moving against Sirius's skin. "I'm so sorry." Sort words mingled with tender little kisses. He couldn't remember what Remus was apologizing for; the tears in his own eyes were ones of relief, cool wash of it carrying away any lingering compulsion.
He didn't resist when Remus walked him backwards until the sofa caught him at the back of the knees, forcing him to sit and he didn't want to resist as Remus moved to kneel in front of him, pressed his face into Sirius's clothed lap and inhaled deeply.
Remus raised his head enough to ask, "Is this all right?"
Sirius nodded dumbly, wordlessly helping Remus tug his pants down and out of the way. The urge to watch was strong and he resisted it because he could, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the sofa.
Sweet, wet suction around him and the flicker of a tongue against the head of his cock, it felt like it went directly to his knees, sprawling them open even wider. He didn't watch, kept his eyes closed and learned it instead by touch; the softness of Remus's hair, the way his cheeks hollowed and filled as he sucked.
"Oh, please," Sirius moaned, not watching that prim mouth redden while it was wrapped around his cock. He arched up into blissful heat and came, felt Remus startle even as he accepted it, swallowing around him in a way that was entirely wonderful.
He pulled off and wrapped his arms around Sirius's waist, burying his too-hot face against Sirius's belly as their breathing slowed, easing to normalcy. Probably the only normal part of them in the room, Sirius thought tiredly, resting one hand on Remus's head to sift through his hair.
Words were ricocheting frantically in his brain, trapped there unspoken.
Please you need to leave, I can't hurt you, I can't, you need to go, get the Aurors get anyone, please, Remus
Not even his breathing betrayed him. He could sit here and touch him, hold him but it couldn't say words that might save his life.
We're both going to die, he realized. Bella would kill Remus herself if Sirius didn't, of that he was sure, and then she would turn her wand on him. He knew it with the same certainty that he knew the sun would rise tomorrow. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
When Remus lifted his head, there was a gleam of pearl at the corner of his mouth that Sirius couldn't help but lick away, tasting bitterness and himself.
That night was the full moon and for the first time Remus offered to let him stay. He sat on the rug in front of the fire and watched as Remus methodically locked every lock his door, some by hand, some with a charm.
He waited until Remus joined him before changing, the easy fluid transformation to Padfoot nothing at all like the change Remus would go through later. He wondered if Remus was jealous of it, wondered if werewolves would hate their lot so much if the transformation was as easy and painless as an Animagus one.
Without waiting for an invitation, he rested his head in Remus's lap, letting out a satisfied huff of contentment when his head was obediently scratched. It was the safest he'd felt in this form since arriving in this flat, inhaling their lingering sex smell with canine senses, the electric green of cut grass.
The change came to Remus too quickly, cries of pain that faded and left the wolf. Together, they curled up next to hearth and basked in each other's scent and warmth, and Sirius let himself only think of this moment, pushing the darkness far back into his mind where he couldn't hear it howling.
~~*~~
"Are you all right?" Remus asked him the next afternoon, frowning over the tea and sandwiches.
It was almost humorous that he asked, sitting across from him as pale and drawn as anyone would be after the agonizing transformations of the past night.
"I'm fine," Sirius told him quietly. That morning he'd woken still in his dog form, Remus lying bare next to him and the urge to tear at him, to bite through the frail, unprotected flesh at his throat had overwhelmed him. His nose had already brushed coolly against the smooth skin by the time he'd gagged it back, convulsing into human form and laying there on the floor covered in cold sweat.
Remus had slept on, oblivious, and Sirius had staggered from the room and into the loo, shutting himself in as he turned both the taps on. He curled up on the floor of the shower and sat beneath the spray for nearly an hour, until his skin was fish-white and wrinkled.
"All right," Remus accepted it mildly. "I'll be gone for a few hours this afternoon, but I'll be back by tonight," he smiled, a little, "Please don't eat my dinner."
"I'll do my best." He said it solemnly, teasing that little smile a little wider. He'd considered it this morning with cold water sheeting down him. Tried to find another option and there didn't seem to be one. It had been tempting to search again for a way to kill himself, to try to push past the compulsion stopping him the same way he'd done to keep from killing Remus. He would have, if he'd had to bite off his own tongue. Anything to keep Remus safe. What use was there in fearing death, he'd obviously been there before.
But it wouldn't help them. That would only leave Remus at Bella's tender mercies and her words the day before haunted him. Make it hurt. Make him suffer. He couldn't allow that either.
I'll do it if I must, he promised silently, watching his friend sip his tea. Three cubes of sugar, always, no mustard on the sandwiches, the same as he had been some twenty years before. Sirius watched him eat, watched every shift of muscle from the faint crinkle at the corner of his eyes to the flex of his fingertips. He'd do it; he would kill Remus with his own hands to save him from Bellatrix.
I love him.
"I love you," he blurted it out before the thought had even finished taking form, amazed that he'd only just realized it now. They'd been shagging for weeks, Remus breathing those same words into his ears, against his skin for all that time and yet, he'd never realized.
He wondered if the real Sirius,
god I'm not, I'm not real
would have loved him, if this was something unique to him.
Remus was frozen, staring at him from over the rim of his cup. A glass shard of jealousy jabbed at his heart at the man he'd believed he was. Remus had said he loved him, over and over, but he'd been whispering it to a ghost. He'd known that, he'd always known that but it had never mattered before, not until this very second…
A warm hand slid over his own, the thumb tracing faint circles over his wrist. Remus had set his cup aside and was smiling at him, faint colour lighting his pale cheeks. "Thank God. I'd hate to think I was in this alone."
It startled a laugh out of him. He squeezed Remus's hand back and thought an apology to wherever the real Sirius was. He was as close to being Sirius as was possible; perhaps he would have loved Remus if he'd had a chance. It didn't matter, he was the one sitting in this tatty little kitchen and the real Sirius, really Sirius, was gone. He was the one who'd protect Remus in any way he could, perhaps in the only way he could.
When Remus left that afternoon, Sirius kissed him with every bit of his newly discovered love, pressing against him as long as he could, until finally they'd parted, Remus's lips still faintly swollen as he'd stepped into the fire.
Sirius settled himself on the sofa with a fresh cup of tea to wait for her, knowing she would come. It was only a matter of time.
~*~
end part 11
Note: I think the next section is going to be the last one. I say I 'think' because I've been writing this whole story by the seat of my pants and it has occasionally wandered off in unintended directions. *G* Be that as it may, I'd like to take a moment and thank everyone whose been reading this. I know that putting your trust in a WIP isn't always easy, since we never know if a writer is going to wander off and take five years to finish it. (cough, cough) Anyway, thank you and the last segment (maybe) should be out in the next day or two. :)
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Remus/Sirius
NC-17
Spoilers for all the books, up to HBP.
Summary: Set during HBP. Dead is dead, unless you're a wizard. Then things can get...complicated.
Notes: Slight modifications in time and space may have been made, altering this from the books. But if you can't tell, it's already an AU, so hey, make of that what you will.
Warnings: Hey, this is sort of dark. If you don't like dark stuff? Please dial a different number. :)
~*~
He hid the wand, burying it on the top shelves in Remus's closet behind old boxes and well-worn rain hats.
It was all he could think to do, fear of the burning compulsion shivering over him as he paced the room. Back tonight, Remus had said. He would be back tonight and the light behind the curtains was already rose-kissed and dimming to violet.
It was ironic, perhaps, that he'd told Dumbledore he wouldn't commit suicide. At the time, he hadn't been able to imagine it. Oh, he'd die fighting for the Order,
(and had, hadn't he, a memory, faded somehow behind pain and light)
and if they had chosen to kill him, Sirius liked to think he would have accepted his execution with grace so long as they kept his torment to death alone. Nothing could be worse than the dementors, he'd supposed. Separation from his godson…from Harry, he thought savagely, fighting down his urge to change, well, that he'd done before, twelve years of it. He'd withstood it all and hadn't felt the urge to die.
Today he would have killed himself a dozen times over, if he could have. If his will had been his own, as it obviously wasn't. Every time he thought of a way to manage it, and the Order had kept him from the knives but there were always more creative means, the urge drained from him.
It was all he could do to leave the wand where it was. The urge to get it, to use it itched over him like the sting of a thousand fire ants. He paced the small room, ten steps by ten steps, wearing one of Remus's shirts that smelled like him. And waited.
The sound of the floo made his heart seize in his chest, a familiar wash of red lapping into his vision. He turned to see Remus step out, shaking the ash from his robes. His tired eyes were faintly swollen, dropping slightly to meet Sirius's. Everything was tinted crimson, compulsion forcing his feet to carry him towards the hearth.
But there was no anger, no furious thirst for blood and when strong arms wrapped around him, he managed to stop, let them hold him. Remus's face was damp against his neck, faint ticklish breath. Sirius raised his eyes to the ceiling and watched as the crimson faded, the dull ivory of the wall plaster reasserting itself. Slowly, he managed to move, sliding his arms around Remus in a firm hold, barely keeping from digging his nails in to cling like a child.
"I'm sorry," Remus murmured, lips moving against Sirius's skin. "I'm so sorry." Sort words mingled with tender little kisses. He couldn't remember what Remus was apologizing for; the tears in his own eyes were ones of relief, cool wash of it carrying away any lingering compulsion.
He didn't resist when Remus walked him backwards until the sofa caught him at the back of the knees, forcing him to sit and he didn't want to resist as Remus moved to kneel in front of him, pressed his face into Sirius's clothed lap and inhaled deeply.
Remus raised his head enough to ask, "Is this all right?"
Sirius nodded dumbly, wordlessly helping Remus tug his pants down and out of the way. The urge to watch was strong and he resisted it because he could, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the sofa.
Sweet, wet suction around him and the flicker of a tongue against the head of his cock, it felt like it went directly to his knees, sprawling them open even wider. He didn't watch, kept his eyes closed and learned it instead by touch; the softness of Remus's hair, the way his cheeks hollowed and filled as he sucked.
"Oh, please," Sirius moaned, not watching that prim mouth redden while it was wrapped around his cock. He arched up into blissful heat and came, felt Remus startle even as he accepted it, swallowing around him in a way that was entirely wonderful.
He pulled off and wrapped his arms around Sirius's waist, burying his too-hot face against Sirius's belly as their breathing slowed, easing to normalcy. Probably the only normal part of them in the room, Sirius thought tiredly, resting one hand on Remus's head to sift through his hair.
Words were ricocheting frantically in his brain, trapped there unspoken.
Please you need to leave, I can't hurt you, I can't, you need to go, get the Aurors get anyone, please, Remus
Not even his breathing betrayed him. He could sit here and touch him, hold him but it couldn't say words that might save his life.
We're both going to die, he realized. Bella would kill Remus herself if Sirius didn't, of that he was sure, and then she would turn her wand on him. He knew it with the same certainty that he knew the sun would rise tomorrow. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
When Remus lifted his head, there was a gleam of pearl at the corner of his mouth that Sirius couldn't help but lick away, tasting bitterness and himself.
That night was the full moon and for the first time Remus offered to let him stay. He sat on the rug in front of the fire and watched as Remus methodically locked every lock his door, some by hand, some with a charm.
He waited until Remus joined him before changing, the easy fluid transformation to Padfoot nothing at all like the change Remus would go through later. He wondered if Remus was jealous of it, wondered if werewolves would hate their lot so much if the transformation was as easy and painless as an Animagus one.
Without waiting for an invitation, he rested his head in Remus's lap, letting out a satisfied huff of contentment when his head was obediently scratched. It was the safest he'd felt in this form since arriving in this flat, inhaling their lingering sex smell with canine senses, the electric green of cut grass.
The change came to Remus too quickly, cries of pain that faded and left the wolf. Together, they curled up next to hearth and basked in each other's scent and warmth, and Sirius let himself only think of this moment, pushing the darkness far back into his mind where he couldn't hear it howling.
~~*~~
"Are you all right?" Remus asked him the next afternoon, frowning over the tea and sandwiches.
It was almost humorous that he asked, sitting across from him as pale and drawn as anyone would be after the agonizing transformations of the past night.
"I'm fine," Sirius told him quietly. That morning he'd woken still in his dog form, Remus lying bare next to him and the urge to tear at him, to bite through the frail, unprotected flesh at his throat had overwhelmed him. His nose had already brushed coolly against the smooth skin by the time he'd gagged it back, convulsing into human form and laying there on the floor covered in cold sweat.
Remus had slept on, oblivious, and Sirius had staggered from the room and into the loo, shutting himself in as he turned both the taps on. He curled up on the floor of the shower and sat beneath the spray for nearly an hour, until his skin was fish-white and wrinkled.
"All right," Remus accepted it mildly. "I'll be gone for a few hours this afternoon, but I'll be back by tonight," he smiled, a little, "Please don't eat my dinner."
"I'll do my best." He said it solemnly, teasing that little smile a little wider. He'd considered it this morning with cold water sheeting down him. Tried to find another option and there didn't seem to be one. It had been tempting to search again for a way to kill himself, to try to push past the compulsion stopping him the same way he'd done to keep from killing Remus. He would have, if he'd had to bite off his own tongue. Anything to keep Remus safe. What use was there in fearing death, he'd obviously been there before.
But it wouldn't help them. That would only leave Remus at Bella's tender mercies and her words the day before haunted him. Make it hurt. Make him suffer. He couldn't allow that either.
I'll do it if I must, he promised silently, watching his friend sip his tea. Three cubes of sugar, always, no mustard on the sandwiches, the same as he had been some twenty years before. Sirius watched him eat, watched every shift of muscle from the faint crinkle at the corner of his eyes to the flex of his fingertips. He'd do it; he would kill Remus with his own hands to save him from Bellatrix.
I love him.
"I love you," he blurted it out before the thought had even finished taking form, amazed that he'd only just realized it now. They'd been shagging for weeks, Remus breathing those same words into his ears, against his skin for all that time and yet, he'd never realized.
He wondered if the real Sirius,
god I'm not, I'm not real
would have loved him, if this was something unique to him.
Remus was frozen, staring at him from over the rim of his cup. A glass shard of jealousy jabbed at his heart at the man he'd believed he was. Remus had said he loved him, over and over, but he'd been whispering it to a ghost. He'd known that, he'd always known that but it had never mattered before, not until this very second…
A warm hand slid over his own, the thumb tracing faint circles over his wrist. Remus had set his cup aside and was smiling at him, faint colour lighting his pale cheeks. "Thank God. I'd hate to think I was in this alone."
It startled a laugh out of him. He squeezed Remus's hand back and thought an apology to wherever the real Sirius was. He was as close to being Sirius as was possible; perhaps he would have loved Remus if he'd had a chance. It didn't matter, he was the one sitting in this tatty little kitchen and the real Sirius, really Sirius, was gone. He was the one who'd protect Remus in any way he could, perhaps in the only way he could.
When Remus left that afternoon, Sirius kissed him with every bit of his newly discovered love, pressing against him as long as he could, until finally they'd parted, Remus's lips still faintly swollen as he'd stepped into the fire.
Sirius settled himself on the sofa with a fresh cup of tea to wait for her, knowing she would come. It was only a matter of time.
~*~
end part 11
Note: I think the next section is going to be the last one. I say I 'think' because I've been writing this whole story by the seat of my pants and it has occasionally wandered off in unintended directions. *G* Be that as it may, I'd like to take a moment and thank everyone whose been reading this. I know that putting your trust in a WIP isn't always easy, since we never know if a writer is going to wander off and take five years to finish it. (cough, cough) Anyway, thank you and the last segment (maybe) should be out in the next day or two. :)