Fic: In Which Plans Go Brilliantly, or Terribly Awry Depending on How You Look at It
Title: In Which Plans Go Brilliantly, or Terribly Awry Depending on How You Look at It
Author: cherrybomb213
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Exhausted pre-med student attempting to write a cute story... xD
Word Count: 2,924
Summary: "There would be no turning back if anyone found out about the thoughts Sirius had been having lately." The Confession.
Author's Notes: (optional) Inspired by "Even Though" by the lovely Starkid. Also, "The C Word" episode of House *Sniff*.
“Sirius?” He could barely hear Remus over the pounding of the blood in his ears. His hands shook, and he began to see himself from the outside. He knew he looked ridiculous, still soaking wet with his tee-shirt sticking to him uncomfortably. And he didn’t know what he was going to say.
“What’s happened?” Remus sounded frantic. Does he have any idea what’s going on?, Sirius mused. He knew he had to explain, but he’d been working simultaneously to and away from this moment for the past two years. This would change everything; in a way, this would change his entire life, and he had no idea what was going to-
“Sirius, you’re scaring me.” Remus began to walk closer to him, wading past James’ glasses, several floating socks, and a couple of scandalous magazines.
I’m scaring you? Oh, Remus, you have no idea…
* * *
It had all started a week ago. He had been idly perusing the latest Quidditch Supply Weekly when he’d realized there was only a month left in his sixth year. This had set an untold amount of plans into motion, as he had a mere thirty days to come up with a proper ending to the Farewell Feast, not to mention he owed Marlene McKinnon a killer birthday party after that accidentally-exploded cauldron last week (it was a right shame; he’d mixed her up with that lynx who’d stood Peter up. Stellar girl, that McKinnon, really, for only singing off his eyebrows)… And then, even as he tried to stifle it, he thought of Remus.
There was only a month left before they’d be apart again, likely for most of the summer holiday.
There was only a month to tell him.
But he couldn’t tell him, Sirius thought, pushing his hair out of his face in agony. He’d been trying to work up the nerve since last July and he hadn’t found a way to get past this awkward state where they just grinned at each other stupidly and found a lot of excuses to spend time together and talk about nothing except the weather and classes while giving off big stupid doe eyes. Or at least, that’s what it seemed to Sirius.
They could barely talk about anything important anymore, because he was afraid that the second Remus said something profound or witty or comforting, Sirius wouldn’t be able to restrain himself. He’d start off simply throwing an arm over Remus’ shoulders, and soon he’d be sobbing out the declarations of love onto Remus’ shoulder while sniffing his cologne and sprouting a large, flowery vagina out of his forehead as a bizarre modern form of a scarlet letter, and then a corps of uniformed Central of Intelligence on Unacceptable Unmanliness officers would take him away as Remus described the horrid scene: “Mates just don’t do this kind of stuff, you know?”…
Or at least, that may as well happen.
There would be no turning back if anyone found out about the thoughts Sirius had been having lately. He could not bring to the light of day the fact that he longed to put pieces of Remus’ hair behind his ears, or fasten his Gryffindor tie for him in the morning, or bandage the wounds crossing his back the morning after a full moon. And that scratched only the surface of Sirius’ thoughts during the last year and a half. He could bid farewell any chance of a social life at Hogwarts if anyone ever found out about some of his daydreams of catching Remus off-guard at the library, grabbing his shirt collar, and kissing him smugly on the mouth, as Remus stirred, at first in surprise, but then in response, a hand poised on Sirius’ chest as his lips parted.
It was just too dangerous. And that was a lot, coming from the bloke who spent one night out of each month parading around the grounds with a werewolf, Sirius thought, bitterly. When he came down to it, there was no way to even be sure that Remus wouldn’t hex him on the spot. They’d only discussed love and shagging on a handful of occasions, and the conversations had revolved around girls. He remembered a day in their fourth year, after he’d taken Dorcas Meadows to the Three Broomsticks one Hogsmeade weekend. It’d been his first proper date, though he’d done a fair amount of flirting and hand-holding between classes and in the common room during the crisp fall nights. He’d gotten back late, having snuck in after hours, and James and Peter had fallen asleep waiting for him. Remus, in a pair of mangy flannel pajama pants, stood at the water pitcher on the windowsill, his hair mussed spectacularly against his face from sleep.
‘ullo, Remus had muttered, sleepily.
Yeah, Sirius whispered.
So how was it, then?
Sirius smiled. Alright. She’s nice.
Remus grinned back. And…?
A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.
Luckily you’re far too gone for that.
Sirius chuckled. Right you are. It was…kind of…well, I don’t think I’m terribly good at it, to be honest. She seemed happy though, so hopefully she hasn’t had anyone to compare me with.
Yeah? Well, I’m sure it’ll get easier over time…though I don’t reckon I’ll be finding out any time soon. I don’t think relationships are supposed to have two monthly cycles, yeah?
You reckon? Sirius asked, sitting on Remus’ bed. He wanted to say something reassuring, but really, what did he know about werewolves and dating? He had only one brief kiss with Dorcas Meadows and several of years watching Remus health in the hospital wing to speak of. And that first one hadn’t gone so well.
Yeah. I think it’s just better if I don’t…Remus stuttered. I don’t like lying, and I’d have do that, at least at first.
Though his fourteen-year-old self couldn’t quite wrap his head around it, it was then that he first felt that warm feeling of his body wanting nothing more than to snog Remus, partially just to shut him up. Slightly confused, Sirius went with the much more natural instinct of lobbing a pillow at his head, starting a bedding war that almost kept his mind off the way he felt much more uncomfortably warm and nervous around Remus than he had on his date with Dorcas.
* * *
Then, in fifth year, he’d started having the dreams. They were a convoluted mixture of bizarre and erotic, a combination that allowed him to easily accept the possibility that they were more of the previous than the latter. After all, he’d once dreamed about Regulus donning a petticoat and herding sheep into Bellatrix’s room while she’d shrieked and spat out the spaghetti she’d been eating all down the picture of John Lennon Sirius had drawn for her. But the dreams persisted despite his persistent desire to laugh them off, and he’d eventually been able to predict the strangely sexual twists they’d take.
He’d be eating breakfast, and he’d have finally hexed James for chewing with his mouth open or feeding all the toast to Peter’s owl again. But he’d barely have time to celebrate before he looked around and he was alone, except for Remus, who was reading over an essay and peeling a banana.
“Oi,” Sirius would say, as he grabbed the jar of jam that was next to Remus’ plate. “Where’d everyone bugger off to?”
“’Dunno,” Remus replied, but his voice was almost a growl. And then he would stand up, essay still lying on the table and the banana only halfway covered in his favorite hazelnut spread. He seemed to be having some sort of fit. Only, Sirius would see that the front of his trousers bulged, and his face was flushed and sweaty.
“Erm, are you okay, mate? You can’t be…?”
But then Remus would touch himself, palming his erection over his clothes in the middle of the deserted Great Hall. He gripped tightly, moving his hang up and down, squeezing and sighing softly. And it was if Sirius could feel him too, somehow sensing the hot, tight pulsing between Remus’ legs. The Great Hall would go blurry, and suddenly, they’d be in the Gryffindor Common Room, Remus asleep in his favorite chair by the fire. Only he’d be completely naked, save for a throw blanket. And as he rolled over, he’d expose one pale leg, and Sirius could see where his thigh disappears to his hip, and just a small tuft of hair that disappeared where he was still covered. He’d feel nervous and excited and strangely out of place. The scene felt almost too intimate to watch.
A second later, they were in the dormitory, and Remus would be in his bed kneeled over a skinny feminine body, thrusting and whispering breathy nothings into the hot summer air, and Sirius would contemplate the sweaty birth mark on the back of Remus’ thigh…
And then he’d wake up, cold and sweaty, his muscles rigid and his head spinning.
It had taken him months to come to grips with the fact that it wasn’t something he’d ate, and that somewhere in the crevices of the castle, between patches of green grass on the Quidditch field, or in the quiet of the hospital wing on chilly, gray mornings, he had developed a desire for Remus that frightened him more than the wall of house elf heads at Grimmauld Place.
* * *
He’d tried to keep his mind quiet. It mostly worked, at least in the beginning. The dreams continued, and he’d had to sternly remind himself not to touch Remus too much (there were only so many times you could grab a chap’s arm before it started to look suspicious, after all), but overall, Sirius finished his fifth year as sane as he’d ever been.
But several weeks into his summer at the Potters’, he’d realized there was no turning back. He’d fallen head over heels for one of his best mates, and there was nothing to be done for it.
Remus, having worked in a stuffy diner most of the summer, had fancied a walk around the pond near James’ broom shed. Despite the miserable heat, Sirius had agreed, taking a glass of Mrs. Potter’s lemonade to maintain homeostasis.
But Remus hadn’t really wanted a walk. He wanted to ask Sirius about being burnt off the tapestry. And unlike James, he didn’t buy the story about blowing raspberries in the portrait of Mrs. Black’s face out of spite; he hadn’t stopped prying until Sirius had told him about the burn of his father’s spell on the hand that had grabbed Regulus in his final attempt to save him from centuries of malignant expectations being forced upon them.
In his quiet and infuriating way, Remus had forced the truth out of him, without so much as the courtesy to interrupt or let him become distracted by the fireflies perched on James’ Quaffle. And it was in that conversation Sirius that finally lost the desire to poison his mother’s brandy, as he was now entirely consumed by a desire to snog Remus against the broom shed until their legs shone wet with morning dew and sweat.
* * *
And so, eight months later, Sirius left the Great Hall to concoct a most brilliant plan. It would have all of the important elements: Severus Snape, the Giant Squid, the Entrance Hall, James’ best (worst?) dress robes, and most of all, Remus. Specifically, Sirius aimed to make his permanent mark in pranking history as well as to get Remus alone in such a way that would force him to confess all of the embarrassingly girly feelings he had. It was a sheer work of multitasking glory, like killing two Slytherins with one stone (or whatever the saying was). It would take place in a week, the night after the House Cup, when much of the student body would be riled up on butterbeers and nostalgia, which would create a large opportunity for a ruckus. If he could smuggle enough mead into the common room, the party would start itself, and the faculty would come in droves to investigate. This left the Entrance Hall wide open for untold amounts of tomfoolery.
Sirius grinned and tapped on the square of parchment he’d dug out of James’ trunk. I do solemnly swear that I am up to no good…
* * *
Unfortunately, the plan had been significantly less brilliant than initially anticipated. Either that, or he had severely underestimated James’ propensity for eating boysenberry tarts. Regardless, the dormitory was now currently flooded to his knees, and he and Remus were trying desperately to bale it out of the windows with only one wand between them. Finally, Remus found his wand floating near Peter’s comic books and was able to banish most of the mess, leaving the two of them soaked and bewildered but only submerged up to their ankles.
“I suppose this means the plan didn’t work,” he said, as if waiting for an explanation.
Not having one, Sirius moaned. “Neither phase worked. And I’m probably going to have to replace all of the linens!”
Remus cast his eyes around at the water-logged bedding in sympathy before asking, “Neither phase?”
“Shit.” He hadn’t intended to bring up the second phase of the plan to anyone, especially not Remus. “Well, I…there may have been…” He sputtered, not wanting to make this situation any worse.
“What is it?” Remus looked perplexed. Sirius shook his head.
“Sirius?” He could barely hear Remus over the pounding of the blood in his ears. His hands shook, and he began to see himself from the outside. He knew he looked ridiculous, still soaking wet with his tee-shirt sticking to him uncomfortably. And he didn’t know what he was going to say.
“What’s happened?” Remus sounded frantic. Does he have any idea what’s going on?, Sirius mused. He knew he had to explain, but he’d been working simultaneously to and away from this moment for the past two years. This would change everything; in a way, this would change his entire life, and he had no idea what was going to-
“Sirius, you’re scaring me.” Remus began to walk closer to him, wading past James’ glasses, several floating socks, and a couple of scandalous magazines.
I’m scaring you? Oh, Remus, you have no idea…
“Look, this…we were the second phase of the plan,” Sirius said quickly, trying to relieve himself of the sudden consciousness of his body and Remus’.
“What are you-”
Sirius put one hand on Remus’ shoulder before he could talk himself out of it. Remus’ eyes seemed to widen as he looked up, blank. “This is the second phase of the plan. I’m supposed to be standing here in the dormitory, with you, alone. James and Peter are theoretically mucking about putting McGonagall’s knickers on all the statues and we’re standing here. And I’m telling you that I’ve been completely obsessed with you since sometime fourth year.”
“But-I...”
“Please don’t say anything yet. I’m completely barmy and I just need to finish talking before I lose this chance forever.” He his hand down to grip the top of Remus’ arm, and then, when he met no resistance, to his waist. This was it. The world would either go up in flames, or he’d be standing here, enjoying the feel of Remus Lupin, slightly soggy but flushed and staring into his eyes for all eternity. And he hadn’t even spouted any female reproductive organs yet…
“In a couple of weeks, we have to go home, and then we only have one more year at Hogwarts. I just want you to know that I think you’re wonderful, and funny, and mind-blowingly attractive even when you’re wearing stupid old jumpers and James’ dad’s old trousers. And I know I’ve never properly…been with anyone before, but I can’t picture myself with anyone but you. I hope that, you know…erm. I hope this doesn’t make things too awkward.” He cringed. As far as propositions went, it was lacking. Not to mention, there was no way he and Remus would be on good terms with each other after this.
Remus blinked before slowly touching Sirius’ neck. He gave a small, flushed smile. “I don’t know,” he said, “I can’t picture this not being awkward for Wormtail and Prongs.” And then he was pressing their mouths together.
He really didn’t understand how he had lived the last sixteen years without kissing Remus Lupin, Sirius mused, as he closed his eyes. He felt his wet fringe being pushed away from his forehead, and a warm hand on his lower back, and the gentle push of another tongue at his lips. He fought back against the unwanted interference from his brain, settling instead between the faded legs of Mr. Potter’s old cords.
There was only one year left at Hogwarts, but perhaps a year was a long time. After all, it had only taken him those few disorientated weeks to discover his feelings for Remus, and mere months to master his animal transformations. Each had felt like an eternity. Yet neither had felt quite as satisfying as the tantric seventeen minutes he had alone with Remus in the dormitory before James and Peter had returned bearing battle scars and boysenberry tarts. Indeed, Sirius thought, their last year would be as happy, slow, and marauding as the last six had been, only now he would get to spend delicious seventeen minute stretches kissing Remus in a dry dormitory with new linens.
Author: cherrybomb213
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Exhausted pre-med student attempting to write a cute story... xD
Word Count: 2,924
Summary: "There would be no turning back if anyone found out about the thoughts Sirius had been having lately." The Confession.
Author's Notes: (optional) Inspired by "Even Though" by the lovely Starkid. Also, "The C Word" episode of House *Sniff*.
“Sirius?” He could barely hear Remus over the pounding of the blood in his ears. His hands shook, and he began to see himself from the outside. He knew he looked ridiculous, still soaking wet with his tee-shirt sticking to him uncomfortably. And he didn’t know what he was going to say.
“What’s happened?” Remus sounded frantic. Does he have any idea what’s going on?, Sirius mused. He knew he had to explain, but he’d been working simultaneously to and away from this moment for the past two years. This would change everything; in a way, this would change his entire life, and he had no idea what was going to-
“Sirius, you’re scaring me.” Remus began to walk closer to him, wading past James’ glasses, several floating socks, and a couple of scandalous magazines.
I’m scaring you? Oh, Remus, you have no idea…
* * *
It had all started a week ago. He had been idly perusing the latest Quidditch Supply Weekly when he’d realized there was only a month left in his sixth year. This had set an untold amount of plans into motion, as he had a mere thirty days to come up with a proper ending to the Farewell Feast, not to mention he owed Marlene McKinnon a killer birthday party after that accidentally-exploded cauldron last week (it was a right shame; he’d mixed her up with that lynx who’d stood Peter up. Stellar girl, that McKinnon, really, for only singing off his eyebrows)… And then, even as he tried to stifle it, he thought of Remus.
There was only a month left before they’d be apart again, likely for most of the summer holiday.
There was only a month to tell him.
But he couldn’t tell him, Sirius thought, pushing his hair out of his face in agony. He’d been trying to work up the nerve since last July and he hadn’t found a way to get past this awkward state where they just grinned at each other stupidly and found a lot of excuses to spend time together and talk about nothing except the weather and classes while giving off big stupid doe eyes. Or at least, that’s what it seemed to Sirius.
They could barely talk about anything important anymore, because he was afraid that the second Remus said something profound or witty or comforting, Sirius wouldn’t be able to restrain himself. He’d start off simply throwing an arm over Remus’ shoulders, and soon he’d be sobbing out the declarations of love onto Remus’ shoulder while sniffing his cologne and sprouting a large, flowery vagina out of his forehead as a bizarre modern form of a scarlet letter, and then a corps of uniformed Central of Intelligence on Unacceptable Unmanliness officers would take him away as Remus described the horrid scene: “Mates just don’t do this kind of stuff, you know?”…
Or at least, that may as well happen.
There would be no turning back if anyone found out about the thoughts Sirius had been having lately. He could not bring to the light of day the fact that he longed to put pieces of Remus’ hair behind his ears, or fasten his Gryffindor tie for him in the morning, or bandage the wounds crossing his back the morning after a full moon. And that scratched only the surface of Sirius’ thoughts during the last year and a half. He could bid farewell any chance of a social life at Hogwarts if anyone ever found out about some of his daydreams of catching Remus off-guard at the library, grabbing his shirt collar, and kissing him smugly on the mouth, as Remus stirred, at first in surprise, but then in response, a hand poised on Sirius’ chest as his lips parted.
It was just too dangerous. And that was a lot, coming from the bloke who spent one night out of each month parading around the grounds with a werewolf, Sirius thought, bitterly. When he came down to it, there was no way to even be sure that Remus wouldn’t hex him on the spot. They’d only discussed love and shagging on a handful of occasions, and the conversations had revolved around girls. He remembered a day in their fourth year, after he’d taken Dorcas Meadows to the Three Broomsticks one Hogsmeade weekend. It’d been his first proper date, though he’d done a fair amount of flirting and hand-holding between classes and in the common room during the crisp fall nights. He’d gotten back late, having snuck in after hours, and James and Peter had fallen asleep waiting for him. Remus, in a pair of mangy flannel pajama pants, stood at the water pitcher on the windowsill, his hair mussed spectacularly against his face from sleep.
‘ullo, Remus had muttered, sleepily.
Yeah, Sirius whispered.
So how was it, then?
Sirius smiled. Alright. She’s nice.
Remus grinned back. And…?
A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.
Luckily you’re far too gone for that.
Sirius chuckled. Right you are. It was…kind of…well, I don’t think I’m terribly good at it, to be honest. She seemed happy though, so hopefully she hasn’t had anyone to compare me with.
Yeah? Well, I’m sure it’ll get easier over time…though I don’t reckon I’ll be finding out any time soon. I don’t think relationships are supposed to have two monthly cycles, yeah?
You reckon? Sirius asked, sitting on Remus’ bed. He wanted to say something reassuring, but really, what did he know about werewolves and dating? He had only one brief kiss with Dorcas Meadows and several of years watching Remus health in the hospital wing to speak of. And that first one hadn’t gone so well.
Yeah. I think it’s just better if I don’t…Remus stuttered. I don’t like lying, and I’d have do that, at least at first.
Though his fourteen-year-old self couldn’t quite wrap his head around it, it was then that he first felt that warm feeling of his body wanting nothing more than to snog Remus, partially just to shut him up. Slightly confused, Sirius went with the much more natural instinct of lobbing a pillow at his head, starting a bedding war that almost kept his mind off the way he felt much more uncomfortably warm and nervous around Remus than he had on his date with Dorcas.
* * *
Then, in fifth year, he’d started having the dreams. They were a convoluted mixture of bizarre and erotic, a combination that allowed him to easily accept the possibility that they were more of the previous than the latter. After all, he’d once dreamed about Regulus donning a petticoat and herding sheep into Bellatrix’s room while she’d shrieked and spat out the spaghetti she’d been eating all down the picture of John Lennon Sirius had drawn for her. But the dreams persisted despite his persistent desire to laugh them off, and he’d eventually been able to predict the strangely sexual twists they’d take.
He’d be eating breakfast, and he’d have finally hexed James for chewing with his mouth open or feeding all the toast to Peter’s owl again. But he’d barely have time to celebrate before he looked around and he was alone, except for Remus, who was reading over an essay and peeling a banana.
“Oi,” Sirius would say, as he grabbed the jar of jam that was next to Remus’ plate. “Where’d everyone bugger off to?”
“’Dunno,” Remus replied, but his voice was almost a growl. And then he would stand up, essay still lying on the table and the banana only halfway covered in his favorite hazelnut spread. He seemed to be having some sort of fit. Only, Sirius would see that the front of his trousers bulged, and his face was flushed and sweaty.
“Erm, are you okay, mate? You can’t be…?”
But then Remus would touch himself, palming his erection over his clothes in the middle of the deserted Great Hall. He gripped tightly, moving his hang up and down, squeezing and sighing softly. And it was if Sirius could feel him too, somehow sensing the hot, tight pulsing between Remus’ legs. The Great Hall would go blurry, and suddenly, they’d be in the Gryffindor Common Room, Remus asleep in his favorite chair by the fire. Only he’d be completely naked, save for a throw blanket. And as he rolled over, he’d expose one pale leg, and Sirius could see where his thigh disappears to his hip, and just a small tuft of hair that disappeared where he was still covered. He’d feel nervous and excited and strangely out of place. The scene felt almost too intimate to watch.
A second later, they were in the dormitory, and Remus would be in his bed kneeled over a skinny feminine body, thrusting and whispering breathy nothings into the hot summer air, and Sirius would contemplate the sweaty birth mark on the back of Remus’ thigh…
And then he’d wake up, cold and sweaty, his muscles rigid and his head spinning.
It had taken him months to come to grips with the fact that it wasn’t something he’d ate, and that somewhere in the crevices of the castle, between patches of green grass on the Quidditch field, or in the quiet of the hospital wing on chilly, gray mornings, he had developed a desire for Remus that frightened him more than the wall of house elf heads at Grimmauld Place.
* * *
He’d tried to keep his mind quiet. It mostly worked, at least in the beginning. The dreams continued, and he’d had to sternly remind himself not to touch Remus too much (there were only so many times you could grab a chap’s arm before it started to look suspicious, after all), but overall, Sirius finished his fifth year as sane as he’d ever been.
But several weeks into his summer at the Potters’, he’d realized there was no turning back. He’d fallen head over heels for one of his best mates, and there was nothing to be done for it.
Remus, having worked in a stuffy diner most of the summer, had fancied a walk around the pond near James’ broom shed. Despite the miserable heat, Sirius had agreed, taking a glass of Mrs. Potter’s lemonade to maintain homeostasis.
But Remus hadn’t really wanted a walk. He wanted to ask Sirius about being burnt off the tapestry. And unlike James, he didn’t buy the story about blowing raspberries in the portrait of Mrs. Black’s face out of spite; he hadn’t stopped prying until Sirius had told him about the burn of his father’s spell on the hand that had grabbed Regulus in his final attempt to save him from centuries of malignant expectations being forced upon them.
In his quiet and infuriating way, Remus had forced the truth out of him, without so much as the courtesy to interrupt or let him become distracted by the fireflies perched on James’ Quaffle. And it was in that conversation Sirius that finally lost the desire to poison his mother’s brandy, as he was now entirely consumed by a desire to snog Remus against the broom shed until their legs shone wet with morning dew and sweat.
* * *
And so, eight months later, Sirius left the Great Hall to concoct a most brilliant plan. It would have all of the important elements: Severus Snape, the Giant Squid, the Entrance Hall, James’ best (worst?) dress robes, and most of all, Remus. Specifically, Sirius aimed to make his permanent mark in pranking history as well as to get Remus alone in such a way that would force him to confess all of the embarrassingly girly feelings he had. It was a sheer work of multitasking glory, like killing two Slytherins with one stone (or whatever the saying was). It would take place in a week, the night after the House Cup, when much of the student body would be riled up on butterbeers and nostalgia, which would create a large opportunity for a ruckus. If he could smuggle enough mead into the common room, the party would start itself, and the faculty would come in droves to investigate. This left the Entrance Hall wide open for untold amounts of tomfoolery.
Sirius grinned and tapped on the square of parchment he’d dug out of James’ trunk. I do solemnly swear that I am up to no good…
* * *
Unfortunately, the plan had been significantly less brilliant than initially anticipated. Either that, or he had severely underestimated James’ propensity for eating boysenberry tarts. Regardless, the dormitory was now currently flooded to his knees, and he and Remus were trying desperately to bale it out of the windows with only one wand between them. Finally, Remus found his wand floating near Peter’s comic books and was able to banish most of the mess, leaving the two of them soaked and bewildered but only submerged up to their ankles.
“I suppose this means the plan didn’t work,” he said, as if waiting for an explanation.
Not having one, Sirius moaned. “Neither phase worked. And I’m probably going to have to replace all of the linens!”
Remus cast his eyes around at the water-logged bedding in sympathy before asking, “Neither phase?”
“Shit.” He hadn’t intended to bring up the second phase of the plan to anyone, especially not Remus. “Well, I…there may have been…” He sputtered, not wanting to make this situation any worse.
“What is it?” Remus looked perplexed. Sirius shook his head.
“Sirius?” He could barely hear Remus over the pounding of the blood in his ears. His hands shook, and he began to see himself from the outside. He knew he looked ridiculous, still soaking wet with his tee-shirt sticking to him uncomfortably. And he didn’t know what he was going to say.
“What’s happened?” Remus sounded frantic. Does he have any idea what’s going on?, Sirius mused. He knew he had to explain, but he’d been working simultaneously to and away from this moment for the past two years. This would change everything; in a way, this would change his entire life, and he had no idea what was going to-
“Sirius, you’re scaring me.” Remus began to walk closer to him, wading past James’ glasses, several floating socks, and a couple of scandalous magazines.
I’m scaring you? Oh, Remus, you have no idea…
“Look, this…we were the second phase of the plan,” Sirius said quickly, trying to relieve himself of the sudden consciousness of his body and Remus’.
“What are you-”
Sirius put one hand on Remus’ shoulder before he could talk himself out of it. Remus’ eyes seemed to widen as he looked up, blank. “This is the second phase of the plan. I’m supposed to be standing here in the dormitory, with you, alone. James and Peter are theoretically mucking about putting McGonagall’s knickers on all the statues and we’re standing here. And I’m telling you that I’ve been completely obsessed with you since sometime fourth year.”
“But-I...”
“Please don’t say anything yet. I’m completely barmy and I just need to finish talking before I lose this chance forever.” He his hand down to grip the top of Remus’ arm, and then, when he met no resistance, to his waist. This was it. The world would either go up in flames, or he’d be standing here, enjoying the feel of Remus Lupin, slightly soggy but flushed and staring into his eyes for all eternity. And he hadn’t even spouted any female reproductive organs yet…
“In a couple of weeks, we have to go home, and then we only have one more year at Hogwarts. I just want you to know that I think you’re wonderful, and funny, and mind-blowingly attractive even when you’re wearing stupid old jumpers and James’ dad’s old trousers. And I know I’ve never properly…been with anyone before, but I can’t picture myself with anyone but you. I hope that, you know…erm. I hope this doesn’t make things too awkward.” He cringed. As far as propositions went, it was lacking. Not to mention, there was no way he and Remus would be on good terms with each other after this.
Remus blinked before slowly touching Sirius’ neck. He gave a small, flushed smile. “I don’t know,” he said, “I can’t picture this not being awkward for Wormtail and Prongs.” And then he was pressing their mouths together.
He really didn’t understand how he had lived the last sixteen years without kissing Remus Lupin, Sirius mused, as he closed his eyes. He felt his wet fringe being pushed away from his forehead, and a warm hand on his lower back, and the gentle push of another tongue at his lips. He fought back against the unwanted interference from his brain, settling instead between the faded legs of Mr. Potter’s old cords.
There was only one year left at Hogwarts, but perhaps a year was a long time. After all, it had only taken him those few disorientated weeks to discover his feelings for Remus, and mere months to master his animal transformations. Each had felt like an eternity. Yet neither had felt quite as satisfying as the tantric seventeen minutes he had alone with Remus in the dormitory before James and Peter had returned bearing battle scars and boysenberry tarts. Indeed, Sirius thought, their last year would be as happy, slow, and marauding as the last six had been, only now he would get to spend delicious seventeen minute stretches kissing Remus in a dry dormitory with new linens.