FIC: Do Wizards Dream of Magical Sheep? 6/? (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. :)
~*~
It was something different to sleep in Remus's bed with him still in it, lying next to Sirius and stroking an idle hand down his bare back. Sirius buried his face in the pillow, muffling the contentment of his sigh. It was no surprise to him that his inner animal was one that loved being petted.
Though it was a wonder that every person Remus had ever slept with hadn't know from the moment his clothes came off that he was a werewolf. Scars and boggarts were nothing of a clue in comparison to the ungodly heat he put off; it was rather like cuddling with a boiling cauldron, only without the nasty burns and Remus smelled a good deal better than most potions.
Hm. Even if he wasn't a shade, there was still a good chance of insanity.
Long fingertips traced patterns over his skin, tenderly circling every bump of his spine. Sirius didn't bother to hide his sigh this time, only arched a little into the gentle touch before asking sleepily, "So how long have you wanted to sleep with me?"
"Oh, I don't know." Remus sounded far too awake for this conversation. "From the first moment I saw you, I suppose."
With great effort, Sirius managed to open the eye that wasn't currently buried in the mattress. The fire was nothing more than glowing coals and Remus was mostly obscured in the darkness, his head resting on the headboard and his hand…Sirius groaned and tipped his head up so that those fingertips could continue down the line of his throat. It took him a moment to remember to speak. "Remus, you were eleven."
"I didn't want to sleep with you then," he agreed. "But I wanted you, just some part of you. You were so…" He pulled his hands away and raised them in a helpless gesture, open as if to grasp some invisible, tangible thing. "I just wanted that."
Sirius made a sound that could indicate agreement or could be a protest at the lack of touch. Either way, Remus complied, shifting to use both hands now, sweeping them lightly over his back. "Why didn't you say something before?"
"Don't suppose I noticed it. I was quite happy being friends with you, you know." He yawned, his voice softer, "I don't think I ever really considered it. Not until you died. By then, it didn't matter. You were gone, wasn't much point in dwelling on it."
"I'm here now," Sirius told him, wondered vaguely if it was true. If belief and doubt could be cousins, then both were shacking up these days in an incestuous little romp in his brain.
"Yes, you are here." His fingertips drifted lower, dipping ticklishly into the hollow at the base of his spine.
"I was gone before, after…after James and Lily."
"Yes. But I hated you too much then to even consider loving you."
Hm, that was something new. "So now you love me."
"Yes," Another yawn. "Never got into the habit of casual sex." Just like that, like he admitted to loving people every other day and twice on Sundays. And people thought he was barmy.
"You love me," Sirius repeated, tasting the word, considering it. He rolled over, Remus's hands following the path of his body as it moved and ended up resting on his stomach. "But are you telling me this now because you don't want to miss another chance? Or because you don't think I'm real?"
Remus didn't answer, only leaned down to kiss him softly. Pushed Sirius onto his back even as Remus moved to kneel between his legs, and he was still slick inside from before, Remus easing in, so slowly that they both sighed, mouths barely touching and breath mingling.
Yeah. Sirius didn't care which it was, either.
~*~
Breakfast was waffles, hot and crisp with surprisingly fresh strawberries layered over them. Remus tucked into his with the enthusiasm expected from someone who'd been shagging for most of the night. On his part, Sirius was a little more subdued, stirring the strawberries into the cream until it was a pinkish smear across the blocky surface.
At least he could sit in his chair; he'd woken during the healing spells easing most of the ache away, just before Remus had started in again, taking advantage of early morning wood. He was still a tad sore and a little grumpy about it. Over a decade of abstinence didn't make a fellow very resilient and Remus certainly hadn't offered to play keeper to his beater.
And he had wanted an awful lot of sex, even considering it had probably been some time since he'd had any. Not that Sirius had been the gigolo of Azkaban or anything but they hadn't even been…what? Fuckbuddies, his mind supplied but that seemed a little crude, what with Remus confessing to loving him and all.
Lovers, he decided grudgingly. Not even lovers for twenty-four hours and Remus was trying to break the land record on his arse. Maybe it was another werewolf thing. He couldn't remember it from Defence against the Dark Arts but then, he couldn't remember a great deal these days. He did rather like the shagging better than the whole rip and tear human flesh aspect, even if it did make him grumpy in the morning.
Though it was difficult to sulk when a person had fresh waffles.
All the food had been surprisingly good, truth be told. He couldn't imagine most meals-on-brooms programmes would offer more than tinned fruit cocktail with their frozen waffles. And it wasn't like Remus was giving him a snog every morning before heading off to the office.
"Remus, are you on a dole?" Sirius asked, stealing a strawberry from his plate while Remus was distracted by the newspaper Sirius wasn't allowed to read. One of these days, he would have to find out who'd charmed the papers so to him they all read like those rubbishy sex novels that women liked and thank them. It was a fair change from Shakespeare.
He earned a hand slap when he tried for another berry, Remus appearing from behind the paper long enough to say, "No, I'm not."
Instead of vanishing again, he made a little noise of disgust and reached across the wipe a streak of cream from Sirius's hair where it had trailed into his plate, fingertips brushing Sirius's cheek as he tucked the hair behind his ears like a child, where it wouldn't fall again.
It made him grumpier than ever, slouching down over his waffles. "I don't expect you to chat me up at breakfast but you could pretend I'm slightly more interesting than…the Daily Prophet?" He didn't know, actually, to him the title was The Cowboy and the Vixen.
"I'm not on a dole," Remus repeated, giving him a look. "I suppose I might have been, but for you. It was insisted that I use your funds to support you, for which I am grateful because I doubt I could have afforded to feed you. And keep your hands on your own plate, you! The rest of us could use a decent meal, too."
His funds? But he thought Ha…his godson had inherited all his- "Does he know I'm here, then?" Sirius asked, more than a little surprised. He'd have thought that was the last person they'd give his whereabouts.
"Of course he…he doesn't know you're here but he knows you're with me. He saw you on the lake, we couldn't exactly tell him you'd vanished into the ether…I shouldn't be telling you this," Remus said abruptly, his good humour shuttering itself behind distant eyes.
"Probably not," Sirius agreed softly. He took another bite of his waffle. It still tasted as wonderful but some of his hunger had slipped away.
Remus didn't look at him, pushed his chair back and tossed the paper in the rubbish bin. He'd have to rescue it later if he wanted to find out why the cowboy was leaving his woman behind. Bracing one hand on the counter, Remus twitched the curtains away from the small window and stared outside at the world Sirius wasn't allowed to know a thing about.
"He asks about you," Remus murmured, so low Sirius had to strain to hear. "Often."
It was terribly difficult to think about his godson without…thinking about him, difficult to feel a pained rush of affection and fear. He didn't want to set off anything that would get him hexed at this hour of the day but it didn't stop him from closing his eyes in relief, that his godson didn't hate him after what had happened. In this small moment, Sirius didn't care about shades or Voldemort or any other damned thing in the world except that his godson still cared about him.
"And you tell him?" Sirius asked hoarsely. It was easier with his eyes closed, not seeing Remus's hunched shoulders and white knuckled hands.
"That you're about two steps shy of a tango." Remus said promptly. It startled Sirius into looking at him, leaning against the counter now with his arms crossed over his chest. "What do you think I tell him? You're doing all right, we've got plenty of wards and protective spells on us. I'd tell him anything he wants to know except where you are. "
"Going to mention we're shagging, are you?"
One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile. "Only if he asks"
"Tart."
"Me?" Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "Was I the one on his knees, arse in the air while he was begging for more, please, please, please?" He raised his voice in a fair imitation of the night before, Sirius admitted grudgingly.
"Slut," he muttered, pathetic as a comeback and Remus's smirk said he knew it. He turned his attention back to his waffles as though they were worthy of every speck of interest he had to offer and wondered again why the cowboy had to leave when he'd spent all of page six shagging the poor girl.
It was the most normal morning he'd had since he'd been dragged off to Azkaban, still screaming laughter because it had been Peter who tricked them all and wasn't that bloody fucking hilarious? The best prank in the universe by that pudgy little piece of filth and he'd laughed about it for days, years, bitter humour that was no meal for a dementor. Even now he could feel it, just under the surface, waiting to explode out with a hot burst of insanity but years on the outside had trained him how to will it away. Tucked underneath whatever tatters of sense he had left to stare out of him with yellowed eyes, waiting for its moment to escape, to rend and tear.
His closest friend, his only friend, sat back down to his own plate and they ate in companionable silence, and no one looking in that dingy kitchen would have thought that either of them carried a monster inside.
~*~
end part 6
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. :)
~*~
It was something different to sleep in Remus's bed with him still in it, lying next to Sirius and stroking an idle hand down his bare back. Sirius buried his face in the pillow, muffling the contentment of his sigh. It was no surprise to him that his inner animal was one that loved being petted.
Though it was a wonder that every person Remus had ever slept with hadn't know from the moment his clothes came off that he was a werewolf. Scars and boggarts were nothing of a clue in comparison to the ungodly heat he put off; it was rather like cuddling with a boiling cauldron, only without the nasty burns and Remus smelled a good deal better than most potions.
Hm. Even if he wasn't a shade, there was still a good chance of insanity.
Long fingertips traced patterns over his skin, tenderly circling every bump of his spine. Sirius didn't bother to hide his sigh this time, only arched a little into the gentle touch before asking sleepily, "So how long have you wanted to sleep with me?"
"Oh, I don't know." Remus sounded far too awake for this conversation. "From the first moment I saw you, I suppose."
With great effort, Sirius managed to open the eye that wasn't currently buried in the mattress. The fire was nothing more than glowing coals and Remus was mostly obscured in the darkness, his head resting on the headboard and his hand…Sirius groaned and tipped his head up so that those fingertips could continue down the line of his throat. It took him a moment to remember to speak. "Remus, you were eleven."
"I didn't want to sleep with you then," he agreed. "But I wanted you, just some part of you. You were so…" He pulled his hands away and raised them in a helpless gesture, open as if to grasp some invisible, tangible thing. "I just wanted that."
Sirius made a sound that could indicate agreement or could be a protest at the lack of touch. Either way, Remus complied, shifting to use both hands now, sweeping them lightly over his back. "Why didn't you say something before?"
"Don't suppose I noticed it. I was quite happy being friends with you, you know." He yawned, his voice softer, "I don't think I ever really considered it. Not until you died. By then, it didn't matter. You were gone, wasn't much point in dwelling on it."
"I'm here now," Sirius told him, wondered vaguely if it was true. If belief and doubt could be cousins, then both were shacking up these days in an incestuous little romp in his brain.
"Yes, you are here." His fingertips drifted lower, dipping ticklishly into the hollow at the base of his spine.
"I was gone before, after…after James and Lily."
"Yes. But I hated you too much then to even consider loving you."
Hm, that was something new. "So now you love me."
"Yes," Another yawn. "Never got into the habit of casual sex." Just like that, like he admitted to loving people every other day and twice on Sundays. And people thought he was barmy.
"You love me," Sirius repeated, tasting the word, considering it. He rolled over, Remus's hands following the path of his body as it moved and ended up resting on his stomach. "But are you telling me this now because you don't want to miss another chance? Or because you don't think I'm real?"
Remus didn't answer, only leaned down to kiss him softly. Pushed Sirius onto his back even as Remus moved to kneel between his legs, and he was still slick inside from before, Remus easing in, so slowly that they both sighed, mouths barely touching and breath mingling.
Yeah. Sirius didn't care which it was, either.
~*~
Breakfast was waffles, hot and crisp with surprisingly fresh strawberries layered over them. Remus tucked into his with the enthusiasm expected from someone who'd been shagging for most of the night. On his part, Sirius was a little more subdued, stirring the strawberries into the cream until it was a pinkish smear across the blocky surface.
At least he could sit in his chair; he'd woken during the healing spells easing most of the ache away, just before Remus had started in again, taking advantage of early morning wood. He was still a tad sore and a little grumpy about it. Over a decade of abstinence didn't make a fellow very resilient and Remus certainly hadn't offered to play keeper to his beater.
And he had wanted an awful lot of sex, even considering it had probably been some time since he'd had any. Not that Sirius had been the gigolo of Azkaban or anything but they hadn't even been…what? Fuckbuddies, his mind supplied but that seemed a little crude, what with Remus confessing to loving him and all.
Lovers, he decided grudgingly. Not even lovers for twenty-four hours and Remus was trying to break the land record on his arse. Maybe it was another werewolf thing. He couldn't remember it from Defence against the Dark Arts but then, he couldn't remember a great deal these days. He did rather like the shagging better than the whole rip and tear human flesh aspect, even if it did make him grumpy in the morning.
Though it was difficult to sulk when a person had fresh waffles.
All the food had been surprisingly good, truth be told. He couldn't imagine most meals-on-brooms programmes would offer more than tinned fruit cocktail with their frozen waffles. And it wasn't like Remus was giving him a snog every morning before heading off to the office.
"Remus, are you on a dole?" Sirius asked, stealing a strawberry from his plate while Remus was distracted by the newspaper Sirius wasn't allowed to read. One of these days, he would have to find out who'd charmed the papers so to him they all read like those rubbishy sex novels that women liked and thank them. It was a fair change from Shakespeare.
He earned a hand slap when he tried for another berry, Remus appearing from behind the paper long enough to say, "No, I'm not."
Instead of vanishing again, he made a little noise of disgust and reached across the wipe a streak of cream from Sirius's hair where it had trailed into his plate, fingertips brushing Sirius's cheek as he tucked the hair behind his ears like a child, where it wouldn't fall again.
It made him grumpier than ever, slouching down over his waffles. "I don't expect you to chat me up at breakfast but you could pretend I'm slightly more interesting than…the Daily Prophet?" He didn't know, actually, to him the title was The Cowboy and the Vixen.
"I'm not on a dole," Remus repeated, giving him a look. "I suppose I might have been, but for you. It was insisted that I use your funds to support you, for which I am grateful because I doubt I could have afforded to feed you. And keep your hands on your own plate, you! The rest of us could use a decent meal, too."
His funds? But he thought Ha…his godson had inherited all his- "Does he know I'm here, then?" Sirius asked, more than a little surprised. He'd have thought that was the last person they'd give his whereabouts.
"Of course he…he doesn't know you're here but he knows you're with me. He saw you on the lake, we couldn't exactly tell him you'd vanished into the ether…I shouldn't be telling you this," Remus said abruptly, his good humour shuttering itself behind distant eyes.
"Probably not," Sirius agreed softly. He took another bite of his waffle. It still tasted as wonderful but some of his hunger had slipped away.
Remus didn't look at him, pushed his chair back and tossed the paper in the rubbish bin. He'd have to rescue it later if he wanted to find out why the cowboy was leaving his woman behind. Bracing one hand on the counter, Remus twitched the curtains away from the small window and stared outside at the world Sirius wasn't allowed to know a thing about.
"He asks about you," Remus murmured, so low Sirius had to strain to hear. "Often."
It was terribly difficult to think about his godson without…thinking about him, difficult to feel a pained rush of affection and fear. He didn't want to set off anything that would get him hexed at this hour of the day but it didn't stop him from closing his eyes in relief, that his godson didn't hate him after what had happened. In this small moment, Sirius didn't care about shades or Voldemort or any other damned thing in the world except that his godson still cared about him.
"And you tell him?" Sirius asked hoarsely. It was easier with his eyes closed, not seeing Remus's hunched shoulders and white knuckled hands.
"That you're about two steps shy of a tango." Remus said promptly. It startled Sirius into looking at him, leaning against the counter now with his arms crossed over his chest. "What do you think I tell him? You're doing all right, we've got plenty of wards and protective spells on us. I'd tell him anything he wants to know except where you are. "
"Going to mention we're shagging, are you?"
One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile. "Only if he asks"
"Tart."
"Me?" Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "Was I the one on his knees, arse in the air while he was begging for more, please, please, please?" He raised his voice in a fair imitation of the night before, Sirius admitted grudgingly.
"Slut," he muttered, pathetic as a comeback and Remus's smirk said he knew it. He turned his attention back to his waffles as though they were worthy of every speck of interest he had to offer and wondered again why the cowboy had to leave when he'd spent all of page six shagging the poor girl.
It was the most normal morning he'd had since he'd been dragged off to Azkaban, still screaming laughter because it had been Peter who tricked them all and wasn't that bloody fucking hilarious? The best prank in the universe by that pudgy little piece of filth and he'd laughed about it for days, years, bitter humour that was no meal for a dementor. Even now he could feel it, just under the surface, waiting to explode out with a hot burst of insanity but years on the outside had trained him how to will it away. Tucked underneath whatever tatters of sense he had left to stare out of him with yellowed eyes, waiting for its moment to escape, to rend and tear.
His closest friend, his only friend, sat back down to his own plate and they ate in companionable silence, and no one looking in that dingy kitchen would have thought that either of them carried a monster inside.
~*~
end part 6