Fic: The Adventures (Or Lack Thereof) Of Uncle Padfoot
The Adventures (Or Lack Thereof) Of Uncle Padfoot
by minnow_53
Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling.
Pairing: Remus and Sirius.
Summary: Remus wants to update his blog. Wicked Uncle Padfoot wants to ravish his little Moony. Who will win? A gripping tale of almost unbearable suspense...
Rating: Not sure. Somewhere between PG-13 and R.
Era: Just after Hogwarts: Remus and Sirius are nineteen or twenty. (There are anachronisms. Poetic licence.)
AN: Tasteless on the face of it, but this is actually fluffy crack.
Another fic to commemorate Strikethrough 07. Crossposted to remusxsirius and the_kennel.
The Adventures (Or Lack Thereof) Of Uncle Padfoot
‘Psst! Little boy!’
Remus was typing a blog entry on his computer. He turned round sharply at the sibilant whisper, to see a grinning Sirius with two enormous ice-cream cones in his hand. Hastily, he reached for his wand, and cast an Anti-Dripping charm.
‘I never eat near my keyboard,’ he reminded Sirius.
Sirius came over and gave him a big, lingering kiss, managing to keep the cones upright at the same time.
‘A nice ice-cream won’t hurt your keyboard, little boy. And if you eat it all up, Uncle Padfoot will be very happy, and you'll have a big reward.’ He leered. Only Sirius could leer and look beautiful at the same time.
‘So. What are you saying about me today, Moony?’ He leaned over Remus’s shoulder, and read aloud, ‘Ten minutes later, Wolf Boy had a wonderful and very hot experience with his bestest Uncle Padfoot.’
Horrified, Remus covered the screen with his hand. ‘You utter idiot, Sirius! I haven’t written anything of the sort. And don’t call me ‘little boy’ in front of my computer! You’ll get me banned from WizardingJournal. And then from WanderJournal, and then from HexJournal, and then from the whole wide world of blogging.’
‘So? That’ll give us more time to shag. You spend more time writing about what you did at the weekend than actually doing it.’
‘I don’t tell people everything.’ Remus felt his face going red.
‘No, you give them a feeble, censored version. Though I must say, your account of cooking Sunday dinner was a classic, considering we spent all Sunday in bed and Summoned a takeaway. ‘My roommate adores my duck a l’orange, and says my trifle is the best in Britain.’ Very funny, since I’m the cook round here.’
Remus was hurt. ‘You’re just jealous because you didn’t think of it.’ In fact, he was proud of his blogging skills. He had three friends on WizardingJournal, and they all admired his journal immensely. ‘I know you find it hard to believe, Sirius, but some people like my blog. Especially Sevvie S. He always writes a nice comment.’
‘Sevvie S is Snivellus under a pseudonym, Moony. I mean, little boy. He’s trying to weed out Order secrets from you.’
‘Oh.’
‘Ah, Moonikins, don’t look so upset!’ Sirius wafted the ice-creams under his nose and said, ‘C’mon, eat. They’re good. I Teleported them from Italy. Only the best for my baby.’
‘If you call me a little boy or a baby again, I’m leaving you.’ All the same, Remus reached out for his pistachio cone and started to lick it appreciatively.
Sirius eyed him in a rather lascivious fashion. ‘Hey, little boy, I really love watching you lick an ice-cream. You certainly do it with style. And talking of style...’ He took out a small tortoiseshell comb, and ran it gently through Remus’s rather messy hair.
Remus choked on a stray pistachio and said, ‘What on earth are you doing?’
‘What’s it look like? Grooming you.’
‘Grooming me?’
‘Yes. Grooming my little Moony-boy so he’ll be ready to come to the bedroom with Uncle Padfoot in a few minutes. Or should I say come in the bedroom? When he’s finished ravishing that ice cream, he can ravish me.’
Remus laughed. ‘Grooming doesn’t quite mean that. Not the way you're using it.'
‘Semantics,’ Sirius said airily. ‘I want my little boy to be a pretty little boy.’
‘Okay, that’s enough, Sirius! If you don’t stop talking like that right this second, WizardingJournal will close my account before I have a chance to post today's entry. And I won’t get any feedback, and my friends will hate me. Even Sevvie S. won’t leave a comment.’
Sirius said in a falsetto, ‘Oh, Wolf Boy, your naughty uncle has got us all deleted.’
Remus ignored him. He sat down and typed, ‘Today was a perfectly innocent day at my house. My roommate knitted warm scarves for the homeless wizards in Knockturn Alley, and I wrote the next three chapters of my children’s book, Magic Teddies and Their Wands. Then, I went to lunch at a wholesome milk bar, and later took my mother and grandmother to church.’
He was gratified by the almost instant response. Sevvie S said, a bit bitterly, ‘Oh. You had a better day than I did, Wolfie.’ Tonksmum, who didn’t often comment, gushed, ‘What a clean-living young man! You’ll make some girl a wonderful husband, my dear.’
Remus busied himself replying, thanking both his commenters warmly, mentioning the latest updates on their blogs, and congratulating Sevvie S on his two-year WJ anniversary. ‘It doesn't seem a day over six months! I know you're not Snivellus either. &hearts from Wolf Boy.’
He finally turned back to Sirius, who had long since finished his own ice-cream and, far from knitting scarves, was absorbed in a sex manual. ‘Wow! I didn’t know you could do that!’ he said every few minutes.
‘Okay, Sirius. Ready now.’
‘For what? And I don’t answer to Sirius.’
‘Come on, Sirius.’
Sirius said nothing.
‘You want me to call you - that word?’
‘Well, there's nothing wrong with uncles,' Sirius said. ‘They like to spoil little boys, don't they?’
‘Okay, okay, I'll say it. But this will finish me everywhere, you realise. I hope you’re happy when all my journals are permanently suspended,’ Remus sputtered, then added, so softly that he was barely audible, ‘Uncle Sirius. I mean, Padfoot.’
‘That’s better!’ Sirius leapt up and swept Remus into his arms. ‘Ah, who’s a good boy, then? Hey, you’re a very big boy for such a little boy, aren’t you?’ he added rather crudely. ‘Come on. Say ‘Yes, Uncle Padfoot.’’
‘Yes, Uncle Padfoot,’ Remus repeated faintly.
He put his arms around Sirius and kissed him passionately; because really, Sirius was rather hard to resist, even in Uncle Padfoot mode. Especially in Uncle Padfoot mode.
‘We’re going to play a game, Moonikins,’ Sirius said, his eyes bright with excitement. ‘Hunt the thimble. Only it won’t be a thimble you’re looking for! Come on, little boy! Race you to the bedroom.’
On the table, Remus’s computer suddenly imploded. Somewhere in cyberspace, Sevvie S typed ‘Wolf Boy, I’ve just written about my day! Plz to come and comment!’ but the only response was a grim message, ‘There is no Wolf Boy at WizardingJournal.’
‘Oh, no, I've been banned!’ Remus shrieked. ‘This is all your fault, Sirius.’
‘Good riddance too,’ Sirius said, Banishing the smouldering remains of the computer into thin air with a wave of his wand, as Remus wept softly in his arms. ‘Now, don’t get upset about a silly computer! Uncle Padfoot has far better plans for his little boy.’
He dragged Remus into the bedroom and closed the door. ‘Someone mentioned a thimble didn’t they? I wonder if it’s under my robes, little boy. Why don’t you have a good fumble round?’
A little while later, his plans implemented to everyone's complete satisfaction, Sirius said thoughtfully, ‘Still, it’s a shame you won’t be able to blog about this.’
‘Shut up, Uncle Padfoot,’ Remus said; and Uncle Padfoot did.
End
by minnow_53
Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling.
Pairing: Remus and Sirius.
Summary: Remus wants to update his blog. Wicked Uncle Padfoot wants to ravish his little Moony. Who will win? A gripping tale of almost unbearable suspense...
Rating: Not sure. Somewhere between PG-13 and R.
Era: Just after Hogwarts: Remus and Sirius are nineteen or twenty. (There are anachronisms. Poetic licence.)
AN: Tasteless on the face of it, but this is actually fluffy crack.
Another fic to commemorate Strikethrough 07. Crossposted to remusxsirius and the_kennel.
The Adventures (Or Lack Thereof) Of Uncle Padfoot
‘Psst! Little boy!’
Remus was typing a blog entry on his computer. He turned round sharply at the sibilant whisper, to see a grinning Sirius with two enormous ice-cream cones in his hand. Hastily, he reached for his wand, and cast an Anti-Dripping charm.
‘I never eat near my keyboard,’ he reminded Sirius.
Sirius came over and gave him a big, lingering kiss, managing to keep the cones upright at the same time.
‘A nice ice-cream won’t hurt your keyboard, little boy. And if you eat it all up, Uncle Padfoot will be very happy, and you'll have a big reward.’ He leered. Only Sirius could leer and look beautiful at the same time.
‘So. What are you saying about me today, Moony?’ He leaned over Remus’s shoulder, and read aloud, ‘Ten minutes later, Wolf Boy had a wonderful and very hot experience with his bestest Uncle Padfoot.’
Horrified, Remus covered the screen with his hand. ‘You utter idiot, Sirius! I haven’t written anything of the sort. And don’t call me ‘little boy’ in front of my computer! You’ll get me banned from WizardingJournal. And then from WanderJournal, and then from HexJournal, and then from the whole wide world of blogging.’
‘So? That’ll give us more time to shag. You spend more time writing about what you did at the weekend than actually doing it.’
‘I don’t tell people everything.’ Remus felt his face going red.
‘No, you give them a feeble, censored version. Though I must say, your account of cooking Sunday dinner was a classic, considering we spent all Sunday in bed and Summoned a takeaway. ‘My roommate adores my duck a l’orange, and says my trifle is the best in Britain.’ Very funny, since I’m the cook round here.’
Remus was hurt. ‘You’re just jealous because you didn’t think of it.’ In fact, he was proud of his blogging skills. He had three friends on WizardingJournal, and they all admired his journal immensely. ‘I know you find it hard to believe, Sirius, but some people like my blog. Especially Sevvie S. He always writes a nice comment.’
‘Sevvie S is Snivellus under a pseudonym, Moony. I mean, little boy. He’s trying to weed out Order secrets from you.’
‘Oh.’
‘Ah, Moonikins, don’t look so upset!’ Sirius wafted the ice-creams under his nose and said, ‘C’mon, eat. They’re good. I Teleported them from Italy. Only the best for my baby.’
‘If you call me a little boy or a baby again, I’m leaving you.’ All the same, Remus reached out for his pistachio cone and started to lick it appreciatively.
Sirius eyed him in a rather lascivious fashion. ‘Hey, little boy, I really love watching you lick an ice-cream. You certainly do it with style. And talking of style...’ He took out a small tortoiseshell comb, and ran it gently through Remus’s rather messy hair.
Remus choked on a stray pistachio and said, ‘What on earth are you doing?’
‘What’s it look like? Grooming you.’
‘Grooming me?’
‘Yes. Grooming my little Moony-boy so he’ll be ready to come to the bedroom with Uncle Padfoot in a few minutes. Or should I say come in the bedroom? When he’s finished ravishing that ice cream, he can ravish me.’
Remus laughed. ‘Grooming doesn’t quite mean that. Not the way you're using it.'
‘Semantics,’ Sirius said airily. ‘I want my little boy to be a pretty little boy.’
‘Okay, that’s enough, Sirius! If you don’t stop talking like that right this second, WizardingJournal will close my account before I have a chance to post today's entry. And I won’t get any feedback, and my friends will hate me. Even Sevvie S. won’t leave a comment.’
Sirius said in a falsetto, ‘Oh, Wolf Boy, your naughty uncle has got us all deleted.’
Remus ignored him. He sat down and typed, ‘Today was a perfectly innocent day at my house. My roommate knitted warm scarves for the homeless wizards in Knockturn Alley, and I wrote the next three chapters of my children’s book, Magic Teddies and Their Wands. Then, I went to lunch at a wholesome milk bar, and later took my mother and grandmother to church.’
He was gratified by the almost instant response. Sevvie S said, a bit bitterly, ‘Oh. You had a better day than I did, Wolfie.’ Tonksmum, who didn’t often comment, gushed, ‘What a clean-living young man! You’ll make some girl a wonderful husband, my dear.’
Remus busied himself replying, thanking both his commenters warmly, mentioning the latest updates on their blogs, and congratulating Sevvie S on his two-year WJ anniversary. ‘It doesn't seem a day over six months! I know you're not Snivellus either. &hearts from Wolf Boy.’
He finally turned back to Sirius, who had long since finished his own ice-cream and, far from knitting scarves, was absorbed in a sex manual. ‘Wow! I didn’t know you could do that!’ he said every few minutes.
‘Okay, Sirius. Ready now.’
‘For what? And I don’t answer to Sirius.’
‘Come on, Sirius.’
Sirius said nothing.
‘You want me to call you - that word?’
‘Well, there's nothing wrong with uncles,' Sirius said. ‘They like to spoil little boys, don't they?’
‘Okay, okay, I'll say it. But this will finish me everywhere, you realise. I hope you’re happy when all my journals are permanently suspended,’ Remus sputtered, then added, so softly that he was barely audible, ‘Uncle Sirius. I mean, Padfoot.’
‘That’s better!’ Sirius leapt up and swept Remus into his arms. ‘Ah, who’s a good boy, then? Hey, you’re a very big boy for such a little boy, aren’t you?’ he added rather crudely. ‘Come on. Say ‘Yes, Uncle Padfoot.’’
‘Yes, Uncle Padfoot,’ Remus repeated faintly.
He put his arms around Sirius and kissed him passionately; because really, Sirius was rather hard to resist, even in Uncle Padfoot mode. Especially in Uncle Padfoot mode.
‘We’re going to play a game, Moonikins,’ Sirius said, his eyes bright with excitement. ‘Hunt the thimble. Only it won’t be a thimble you’re looking for! Come on, little boy! Race you to the bedroom.’
On the table, Remus’s computer suddenly imploded. Somewhere in cyberspace, Sevvie S typed ‘Wolf Boy, I’ve just written about my day! Plz to come and comment!’ but the only response was a grim message, ‘There is no Wolf Boy at WizardingJournal.’
‘Oh, no, I've been banned!’ Remus shrieked. ‘This is all your fault, Sirius.’
‘Good riddance too,’ Sirius said, Banishing the smouldering remains of the computer into thin air with a wave of his wand, as Remus wept softly in his arms. ‘Now, don’t get upset about a silly computer! Uncle Padfoot has far better plans for his little boy.’
He dragged Remus into the bedroom and closed the door. ‘Someone mentioned a thimble didn’t they? I wonder if it’s under my robes, little boy. Why don’t you have a good fumble round?’
A little while later, his plans implemented to everyone's complete satisfaction, Sirius said thoughtfully, ‘Still, it’s a shame you won’t be able to blog about this.’
‘Shut up, Uncle Padfoot,’ Remus said; and Uncle Padfoot did.
End