Fic: An Occasion for Firewhiskey for huldrejenta
Title: An Occasion For Firewhisky
Author: hastendown
Recipient: huldrejenta
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1700
Summary: “Say, gentlemen. Whatever where you doing in the middle of the fourth floor corridor at this hour?”
Everyone is asleep and the dormitory is quiet. Remus gets out of bed, rummages around in Prongs’ bedside table carefully and finds the Invisibility Cloak. It’s one of the very few perks of being a werewolf, he thinks, or perhaps it is one of the many perks of being Prongs’ friend: getting to borrow the cloak whenever he wants.
Remus loves the castle at night. It’s deserted. Its emptiness makes it feel even older, even more stately than usual. If he walks there in the darkness under cover of the cloak, not even a Lumos to light his way and relying on his supernatural eyes to make out the shapes of any obstacles, it’s almost as though he’s alone in the world. And being alone is the easiest thing.
He’s taken so many of these walks by now that his legs automatically take him to his favourite spot, the closet hidden behind the full-length mirror on the fourth floor. It’s not a passageway, it doesn’t lead anywhere, it’s just a large cupboard nobody knows about. Or at least, he thinks nobody does.
When he enters the cupboard, still surrounded by nothing but thick dusty darkness, and sinks down into a cross-legged position, something is poking into his left arse-cheek. Highly unusual. He feels around for a bit until his hands close around a piece of paper. Highly unusual. Checking that the mirror cum door is completely closed, he whispers, “lumos.”
There is an envelope in his hands, and it’s addressed to him. It’s addressed to Moony the Marauder, to be precise, which brings the number of possible senders down to three. He quickly recognises the elegant looped scrawl as Sirius’ handwriting. Highly unusual. Why would his roommate write him a letter, when they spend every waking moment together? Why would he leave it in Remus’ secret hideout on the fourth floor? How could he be sure nobody else would find it? Brimming with curiosity, he tears open the envelope.
Dear Moony,
If I am not mistaken, you will find me an utter tosser the moment you finish reading this letter. I apologise in advance. There is something I have to tell you. I simply must. I have tried more than once to just explain it using my words and other more direct means, but this turned out to be impossible. Whenever I open my mouth to tell you what I’m about to tell you, my tongue feels like a flobberworm in my mouth.
I am in love with you.
Now, please don’t panic. I understand that this violates the sacred brotherhood code of Maraudership or something along those lines. That’s why I chose to write to you and leave the letter here. I know you come here at night, Moony. I’ve seen it on the Map. And I simply couldn’t see your face after I revealed my big secret. Will you hate me? I’m pretty sure you have nothing against poofters, but my never-ending desire to snog you until you’re out of breath will surely put a damper on our relationship.
It’s almost Christmas, and you’ll be going home, so I figured it would be safe to tell you this now. You’ll have some time to think it over. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to talk until you come back. Just please don’t say anything to Peter. He’ll tease me until I die of it. James already knows, of course. When have I ever kept secrets from Prongs? But I’ve made him promise not to talk to you about it.
Just on the off chance that you don’t hate me yet, here’s a little more explanation. I love you. I love the way you murmur about chocolate in your sleep. I love the way you always correct my measurements in Potions. I love the way your hair falls into your eyes when you’re reading and you don’t even notice because you just love reading so much. I love the look on your face when there’s scones for breakfast. I love you, and I think I always have. There is nothing I want more than for you to be my boyfriend, and I just absolutely had to tell you.
Yours,
Padfoot
When he’s finished reading, Remus rereads. Then he rereads again. Then he reads the letter one more time, just to be sure. Then he dashes out of the cupboard, letter still clutched in one hand, his wand, still casting light in a sphere around him, in the other.
Someone is standing in the fourth floor corridor. In a flash, the happy warm feeling in Remus’ gut is gone. What if it’s Filch? What if he’s going to be in detention until the end of times and he won’t ever get to tell Sirius that he loves him too, and that he’s a daft idiot? He lifts the wand a bit higher to make out the person in front of him. It’s Sirius.
Remus drops his wand and the letter at the same time and lunges at Sirius. Padfoot makes a surprised little noise and then they’re kissing. Remus pushes at his shoulders hard, harder, until he’s got Sirius pressed up against the wall. It’s good. Remus’d kissed a girl last year, and it had been funny: wet and soft and squishy and altogether unappealing. Sirius, on the other hand, is firm and hard under his hands, kissing back almost aggressively, his tongue pushing into his mouth and tasting of toothpaste. Remus clenches his fist in Sirius’ woollen sweater, and it makes him desperate not just for kisses and unmentionable acts, but, more importantly, it makes him desperate for cuddles. He wants to put his arms around Sirius and sniff at this sweater. He wants to steal this sweater and wear it, so everyone will know they’re together. He wants to wrap himself tightly around Sirius and be this sweater.
After a while, Remus disentangles himself and mutters: “Of course I want to be your boyfriend, you utter tosser.”
Before he knows what’s happening, Remus finds himself pressed against the wall. Sirius is, Merlin on a pogo stick, Sirius is lifting him up off the floor, holding him up against the wall with both hands on the crease between his arse and the backs of his thighs, and they’re so close together, both clad in flannel pyjama bottoms. Oh. Oh sweet Gods, that’s Sirius’ cock.
Remus makes a soft moaning noise that makes Sirius grin and bite a little at his neck. Remus tilts his head away to make his neck longer, so that Sirius will keep doing that until the end of time. Sirius leans a bit closer and continues to suck on the sensitive skin of his neck, and then he pushes, so that their cocks brush together in a shock of heat, and Remus feels wetness gather at his tip.
Oh, oh, oh. They’re in the middle of a hallway in Hogwarts, they don’t have the Map and Remus left the Cloak behind the mirror and literally anyone could walk by. It feels so sweet, so absolutely unbelievably delicious, the friction between their cockheads, that Remus can’t even imagine calling it quits to go somewhere more private. Instead he keens, arches into Sirius and pulls him closer by flexing the muscles in his thighs. Now, Sirius moans, pushes even closer, and the wall is rough against Remus, and cold where Sirius is absolutely scorching hot, and they’re still kissing, although it’s more like biting, and suddenly Remus knows he’s going to come if Sirius keeps humping against him like that.
“Ah,” he tries to say, “Padfoot, I’m going to..”
Sirius grins and whispers, “Yes, you are. You’re going to come for me in the middle of the fucking hallway at school. You’re going to come in your pants, all for me, all because I fucking made you do it. You’re so hot, Moony, so hot. Oh. Oh, yes, that’s it, sweetheart. Come for me.”
And Remus does. It isn’t like any orgasm he’s had before, not even the ones when he allowed himself to think about Sirius and his cocky grin and his long, slender legs while wanking. It shoots through him stronger than anticipated, and he makes a high noise, clenches his fingers once more in the adorable sweater, and comes. When he notices Sirius tensing up too, stilling against him, mouth open and eyes half-lidded, kiss interrupted by the force of their orgasms, he comes a little more. It goes on longer than he’d previously deemed possible.
Sirius lowers him onto the floor and lets Remus hold on for a little bit until he’s regained his footing.
“Padfoot,” Remus says, awestruck. “I didn’t know. You should have told me. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you?”
Sirius grins broadly. “I was just going to stand there like a lurker and gauge your reaction from afar, but boy am I glad you had your Lumos on.”
“I was coming to find you,” Remus explains.
Sirius takes his hand, pulls him along into the cupboard a bit to grab the cloak. Remus leans down to pick up his wand and to carefully fold Sirius’s letter. He notices Sirius looking at his arse, not for the first time, and grins a little. Together, they make their way back to the dormitories.
To their surprise, all the lights are on when they get there. Prongs and Wormtail are sitting in front of the door together, the Map in James’ lap.
Sirius groans and gives James a stern look. “I’m never telling you anything again.”
“Now, Padfoot, don’t lie to me,” James teases. “If the whole thing had ended in your utter humiliation, Wormtail and I wouldn’t be sitting here and gloating.”
“Oh, wouldn’t you? And how do you know I have not been utterly humiliated?”
Peter starts laughing loudly. James looks meaningfully at where Sirius’ hand is holding Remus’ firmly.
“Say, gentlemen,” he booms. “Whatever were you doing in the middle of the fourth floor corridor at this hour?”
Remus blushes bright red. Sirius kisses him a little.
“Do you think it’s too late to tell McGonagall I want to stay here for the holidays?” Remus asks him. Sirius kisses him some more.
“I say this calls for firewhisky,” Peter yells, and he pulls out a dark bottle.
That night, the Marauders drink to newfound love and to a Merry Christmas.
Author: hastendown
Recipient: huldrejenta
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1700
Summary: “Say, gentlemen. Whatever where you doing in the middle of the fourth floor corridor at this hour?”
Everyone is asleep and the dormitory is quiet. Remus gets out of bed, rummages around in Prongs’ bedside table carefully and finds the Invisibility Cloak. It’s one of the very few perks of being a werewolf, he thinks, or perhaps it is one of the many perks of being Prongs’ friend: getting to borrow the cloak whenever he wants.
Remus loves the castle at night. It’s deserted. Its emptiness makes it feel even older, even more stately than usual. If he walks there in the darkness under cover of the cloak, not even a Lumos to light his way and relying on his supernatural eyes to make out the shapes of any obstacles, it’s almost as though he’s alone in the world. And being alone is the easiest thing.
He’s taken so many of these walks by now that his legs automatically take him to his favourite spot, the closet hidden behind the full-length mirror on the fourth floor. It’s not a passageway, it doesn’t lead anywhere, it’s just a large cupboard nobody knows about. Or at least, he thinks nobody does.
When he enters the cupboard, still surrounded by nothing but thick dusty darkness, and sinks down into a cross-legged position, something is poking into his left arse-cheek. Highly unusual. He feels around for a bit until his hands close around a piece of paper. Highly unusual. Checking that the mirror cum door is completely closed, he whispers, “lumos.”
There is an envelope in his hands, and it’s addressed to him. It’s addressed to Moony the Marauder, to be precise, which brings the number of possible senders down to three. He quickly recognises the elegant looped scrawl as Sirius’ handwriting. Highly unusual. Why would his roommate write him a letter, when they spend every waking moment together? Why would he leave it in Remus’ secret hideout on the fourth floor? How could he be sure nobody else would find it? Brimming with curiosity, he tears open the envelope.
Dear Moony,
If I am not mistaken, you will find me an utter tosser the moment you finish reading this letter. I apologise in advance. There is something I have to tell you. I simply must. I have tried more than once to just explain it using my words and other more direct means, but this turned out to be impossible. Whenever I open my mouth to tell you what I’m about to tell you, my tongue feels like a flobberworm in my mouth.
I am in love with you.
Now, please don’t panic. I understand that this violates the sacred brotherhood code of Maraudership or something along those lines. That’s why I chose to write to you and leave the letter here. I know you come here at night, Moony. I’ve seen it on the Map. And I simply couldn’t see your face after I revealed my big secret. Will you hate me? I’m pretty sure you have nothing against poofters, but my never-ending desire to snog you until you’re out of breath will surely put a damper on our relationship.
It’s almost Christmas, and you’ll be going home, so I figured it would be safe to tell you this now. You’ll have some time to think it over. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to talk until you come back. Just please don’t say anything to Peter. He’ll tease me until I die of it. James already knows, of course. When have I ever kept secrets from Prongs? But I’ve made him promise not to talk to you about it.
Just on the off chance that you don’t hate me yet, here’s a little more explanation. I love you. I love the way you murmur about chocolate in your sleep. I love the way you always correct my measurements in Potions. I love the way your hair falls into your eyes when you’re reading and you don’t even notice because you just love reading so much. I love the look on your face when there’s scones for breakfast. I love you, and I think I always have. There is nothing I want more than for you to be my boyfriend, and I just absolutely had to tell you.
Yours,
Padfoot
When he’s finished reading, Remus rereads. Then he rereads again. Then he reads the letter one more time, just to be sure. Then he dashes out of the cupboard, letter still clutched in one hand, his wand, still casting light in a sphere around him, in the other.
Someone is standing in the fourth floor corridor. In a flash, the happy warm feeling in Remus’ gut is gone. What if it’s Filch? What if he’s going to be in detention until the end of times and he won’t ever get to tell Sirius that he loves him too, and that he’s a daft idiot? He lifts the wand a bit higher to make out the person in front of him. It’s Sirius.
Remus drops his wand and the letter at the same time and lunges at Sirius. Padfoot makes a surprised little noise and then they’re kissing. Remus pushes at his shoulders hard, harder, until he’s got Sirius pressed up against the wall. It’s good. Remus’d kissed a girl last year, and it had been funny: wet and soft and squishy and altogether unappealing. Sirius, on the other hand, is firm and hard under his hands, kissing back almost aggressively, his tongue pushing into his mouth and tasting of toothpaste. Remus clenches his fist in Sirius’ woollen sweater, and it makes him desperate not just for kisses and unmentionable acts, but, more importantly, it makes him desperate for cuddles. He wants to put his arms around Sirius and sniff at this sweater. He wants to steal this sweater and wear it, so everyone will know they’re together. He wants to wrap himself tightly around Sirius and be this sweater.
After a while, Remus disentangles himself and mutters: “Of course I want to be your boyfriend, you utter tosser.”
Before he knows what’s happening, Remus finds himself pressed against the wall. Sirius is, Merlin on a pogo stick, Sirius is lifting him up off the floor, holding him up against the wall with both hands on the crease between his arse and the backs of his thighs, and they’re so close together, both clad in flannel pyjama bottoms. Oh. Oh sweet Gods, that’s Sirius’ cock.
Remus makes a soft moaning noise that makes Sirius grin and bite a little at his neck. Remus tilts his head away to make his neck longer, so that Sirius will keep doing that until the end of time. Sirius leans a bit closer and continues to suck on the sensitive skin of his neck, and then he pushes, so that their cocks brush together in a shock of heat, and Remus feels wetness gather at his tip.
Oh, oh, oh. They’re in the middle of a hallway in Hogwarts, they don’t have the Map and Remus left the Cloak behind the mirror and literally anyone could walk by. It feels so sweet, so absolutely unbelievably delicious, the friction between their cockheads, that Remus can’t even imagine calling it quits to go somewhere more private. Instead he keens, arches into Sirius and pulls him closer by flexing the muscles in his thighs. Now, Sirius moans, pushes even closer, and the wall is rough against Remus, and cold where Sirius is absolutely scorching hot, and they’re still kissing, although it’s more like biting, and suddenly Remus knows he’s going to come if Sirius keeps humping against him like that.
“Ah,” he tries to say, “Padfoot, I’m going to..”
Sirius grins and whispers, “Yes, you are. You’re going to come for me in the middle of the fucking hallway at school. You’re going to come in your pants, all for me, all because I fucking made you do it. You’re so hot, Moony, so hot. Oh. Oh, yes, that’s it, sweetheart. Come for me.”
And Remus does. It isn’t like any orgasm he’s had before, not even the ones when he allowed himself to think about Sirius and his cocky grin and his long, slender legs while wanking. It shoots through him stronger than anticipated, and he makes a high noise, clenches his fingers once more in the adorable sweater, and comes. When he notices Sirius tensing up too, stilling against him, mouth open and eyes half-lidded, kiss interrupted by the force of their orgasms, he comes a little more. It goes on longer than he’d previously deemed possible.
Sirius lowers him onto the floor and lets Remus hold on for a little bit until he’s regained his footing.
“Padfoot,” Remus says, awestruck. “I didn’t know. You should have told me. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you?”
Sirius grins broadly. “I was just going to stand there like a lurker and gauge your reaction from afar, but boy am I glad you had your Lumos on.”
“I was coming to find you,” Remus explains.
Sirius takes his hand, pulls him along into the cupboard a bit to grab the cloak. Remus leans down to pick up his wand and to carefully fold Sirius’s letter. He notices Sirius looking at his arse, not for the first time, and grins a little. Together, they make their way back to the dormitories.
To their surprise, all the lights are on when they get there. Prongs and Wormtail are sitting in front of the door together, the Map in James’ lap.
Sirius groans and gives James a stern look. “I’m never telling you anything again.”
“Now, Padfoot, don’t lie to me,” James teases. “If the whole thing had ended in your utter humiliation, Wormtail and I wouldn’t be sitting here and gloating.”
“Oh, wouldn’t you? And how do you know I have not been utterly humiliated?”
Peter starts laughing loudly. James looks meaningfully at where Sirius’ hand is holding Remus’ firmly.
“Say, gentlemen,” he booms. “Whatever were you doing in the middle of the fourth floor corridor at this hour?”
Remus blushes bright red. Sirius kisses him a little.
“Do you think it’s too late to tell McGonagall I want to stay here for the holidays?” Remus asks him. Sirius kisses him some more.
“I say this calls for firewhisky,” Peter yells, and he pulls out a dark bottle.
That night, the Marauders drink to newfound love and to a Merry Christmas.