Harry Potter - "Four cigarettes in an ashtray" - Part 2 - Sirius/James/Lily/Remus - NC-17
Title: Four cigarettes in an ashtray
Pairing: Sirius/James/Lily/Remus
Word Count: 18,337 words
Summary: Isolated from the war, tensions clash and mount, building and building; a storm in a teacup. Can four people exist in a single relationship?
Warnings: Swearing, violence, bloodplay, comeplay, betrayal, deceit, het, slash, foursome, alcohol use.
Author's notes: Written for anjenue for hp_springsmut.
Part 1
Sirius cocks an eyebrow and tries to read his friend. "It's cold," Sirius says cautiously. James doesn't budge, so Sirius does as he's told. "God, it's freezing." His back arches and he writhes a bit from the chill of the tile, kicking a bit and shifting, trying childishly to find warmth.
James crawls over him, hard cock sliding down over Sirius', brushing up against him and rolling hot about his waist. "Put on a record."
Sirius finds and flicks his wand to the record player on the coffee table in the next room. The needle clicks and snaps into place, and Frank Zappa's Hot Rats begins to play. The strange, swirling music is just enough to tip them off the edge of friendliness into the floating miasma of boys' sexual confusion.
James takes Sirius' mouth with his own, biting hard on the boy's lips and pulling, forcing Sirius to follow him in a movement, mewling in pain behind the kiss. James lies flat over the boy, lowering himself on hands and knees over Sirius' chest and waist. There they grind, and buck; they do boyish things, and coltish things, they don't speak and only manage whimpers and groans as they push and pull together. In a movement, a hard hand placed solidly in the plane of Sirius' chest, James goes down, slides down, sheaths Sirius' fever-hot cock in his mouth, slick and wet around his head as he tastes his best friend for the first time. Salty, a bit, and a little sour from sweat, and James smiles around Sirius and rolls his tongue and teeth.
Sirius lifts high, and forces himself into James' mouth as he whimpers, twisting back and forth as if he's pinioned, which he is, by his cock, a solid stake driven through his waist and anchored by James' teeth. It feels like he's being drained through it, every part of him pulled in a mix of pleasure and the gasping pricks of pain as James works him incalculably; his every thought is focused on his cock, like his body is in suspended animation and the only source of any feeling is the roll of tongue over the head of his dick, a mindless need and desire, an entire equation of boy reduced to a single variable.
"Come'ere." Sirius says at last, rolling up and around to push James back against the kitchen floor, hard. James hits his head and moans but doesn't complain because Sirius turns his voice in a gasp as he takes James' cock in his mouth. They shift ceaselessly, thighs touching and pressing, hands grasping at wrists, almost like they're wrestling, forcing each other apart and together, apart and together.
At last, James gets the upper hand and rolls Sirius off, pressing him roughly against the bottom of the island counter, forcing him to sit back against the wall. James grabs him by the shoulders and forces him against the wood (Sirius hits his head, slaps forward and punches James in the shoulder, hard) before he leans down and licks him, sucks him, buys with his tongue a one-way ticket to hell. Sirius tries to move, but James' hands keep him hard against the wood, able only to nudge with his legs, pushing James' head as he - as he -
And then, escape, and Sirius punches James right between the muscles of his shoulder and neck, hard and fast. He doesn't know why, what overcame him, but he punches him and it feels good. James pulls away, leans back on his knees and feet, silently massaging his shoulder and half-glaring, half-grinning at Sirius. With barely a wink, barely a slight, James takes a swing and catches Sirius in the jaw. Sirius reels, grabbing his chin and rubbing it, biting his lips hard.
"You fucker," Sirius says thickly, through a smile. "You stupid fucker."
It's a free for all, naked and stupid and boys, honestly, what the fuck is wrong with them? Sirius tackles James, forces him down to the ground, hands pressed into his chest, pinching and scratching at the smooth skin, scrabbling like a cat. James is quick to roll him, spinning him to the floor and smashing him up against the legs of the kitchen table, Sirius' strong shoulder buckling where it slams against the tile. He gasps it in pain, but counteracts quickly, punching James first in the stomach then again in the chest with his free hand. James catches his wrists quickly and twists them mercilessly around Sirius' back, pressing the boy's face into the ground and lying parallel over him, breathing into his friend's neck.
"I win," James whispers, husky and raw.
And then Sirius throws his head back and catches James right in the chest, right into the mesh of his ribs, winding him and throwing him back, releasing his grip. Taking the opportunity, Sirius reaches and grabs James' cock in his hand, jerking him furious and hard, inflicting more pain than pleasure as he crawls over the boy to bite his neck, chew his lips, suck the coppery blood that beads at his mouth. James writhes, gasps, tries to catch his breath as he feels his stomach tighten, his insides grip, adrenalined from his pain and warped by the fire of Sirius' hand.
Like male wolves fighting for alpha status, leadership and pain dealt with teeth, the blood of their wounds, and heat of their cocks: fuck.
"Jamie," Sirius says through the haze. "Oh - oh God."
"I - I know," James replies. "Are you -"
"Fuck - yes."
They come, pressed together, James first and grabbing the back of Sirius' head, forcing him into his shoulder, and then Sirius, holding James by the waist, hard grasp around his hips and pressing rough into his skin and bone. They ride it out together, coasting and rolling on the fire, twisting like oysters in lime, crashing into each other and kissing in turn, lips and tongue, all violence draining from them like a blister.
Finally, they roll apart and breathe heavy the cold kitchen air.
"I need another fucking shower," Sirius says, wiping his hand over his mouth, tasting blood and sweat (whose?) "God, that hurt." He massages his shoulder tenderly. "Where did the punching come from?"
James says nothing, merely catches his breath on the tile floor.
"I mean, I liked it. Just. Fuck. My jaw, ow."
James coughs but maintains his silence.
"Jamie?" Sirius asks, rolling to his side and looking down to his friend. He touches a hand to James' softening cock and feels the slick of their come there, he touches a finger to it, rolls the digit almost like he's bored. "You okay?"
James sighs. "I'm okay."
"Was that - okay?"
James is sore and he's sweet and what else is there to say? "Yeah, was really - yeah."
"You punch like a girl." Sirius says, tempting him into after-play.
James rolls his shoulder back, touching it gingerly. "And you bruise like one." Sirius smiles and laughs. "Let's go have a shower."
"What, together?" Sirius asks, pushing himself up on his hands.
"Sorry, too gay for you?"
"I don't even know what the word means."
They go upstairs.
***
"You foolish -" is all Dumbledore says before grabbing Sirius' arm and leaning down to grasp James. Green and red start up again in fervour, sparks and fire following Dumbledore as he walks, chasing him like a wronged dragon. And then, with a turn and curse, the three vanish into air, the space they leave popping as the air rushes in to fill the void.
***
Lily makes tea in the kitchen as Remus watches Woody Allen's Sleeper on television and Sirius, shirtless and jean-clad, naps, head cradled gently in Remus' lap, a couple of fingers of whiskey already in him. Remus, absent to the point of ignorance, strokes Sirius' hair, curling it girlishly around his fingers and rolling it between thumb and index. James stands by the front door, searching out the window and scanning the landscape, waiting, once again, for his own personal Godot.
Lily creeps up on James and rolls her hands around his hips, cupping him lightly and giving him a cold kiss to the shoulder. "You see anything?"
James nudges a bit away from her hands and says: "No, not yet."
"Want to pass this off to Remus for a bit so we can get a bit of. Well. You know."
"I'm not really in the mood." James sighs and leans forward, pressing his forehead against the cold windowpane. "Sorry," he adds quietly. "Go watch some TV if you're bored."
"Fine, I'll do that." She turns on her heel without another word and marches into the darkened living room, falling to the couch across from Remus and crossing her arms stiffly over her chest and watches the movie without really paying attention, the television just a flickering thing in liquid blues and white, a cold glare of feathered light that reflects stupidly about the room.
"Hey, Lily," Remus says with a smile.
"Hi."
Remus opens his mouth to speak, but says nothing, lulled by her coldness. Remus hates himself for even trying. He knows Lily is angry - at James, at Sirius, at him, maybe, he doesn't really know - but he also knows can't do anything to stop it. Besides, nothing he says is the right thing, especially with girls (following that minor disaster of telling Lily that Sirius likes her), so he learns to say nothing. And after that one morning - after he realized he's connected to, well, more than just Sirius - he doesn't know exactly what to say to anyone.
They always said sex would change you.
On a breath, Lily gets off the couch and steps between Remus and the television. She leans down and catches the sandy-haired boy in a kiss, one hand slipping in behind his neck, the other steadying her on the back of the couch. Remus says something behind her mouth but the sound doesn't escape her lips. She leans into it for just a second more before releasing with a dull smack.
Remus looks at her, blinking rapidly.
"Thanks," Lily says, scarcely sounding any happier.
"Uh." Remus looks down at Sirius, still sleeping. "No problem, I guess."
What was that? - Remus reflects. Revenge?
Lily sits back down on her couch, curling her legs under her. "So, what's going on between you and Sirius anyway?" It's a little quicker, a little rougher than just an honest, curious question. This one has hidden things in it: hic sunt dracones.
"Um." Remus blushes in pinpricks. "What do you mean?"
"Well." She gestures to Sirius, sleeping peacefully in Remus' lap, leaning into the brown-haired boy's stomach and curled sweetly tight. "Are you two -"
"No."
"Oh." Lily brushes her hair behind her ear. "Sorry."
"No. I mean. I don't know. What we are, I mean."
"Well, are you - gay?"
Remus swallows thickly. "Well. No. But I'm not, er, normal. I mean. Normal as in - average. You know - I mean - we were fifteen when we - it's just, girls hadn't been invented yet."
She smiles. "I do know." An artful pause. "So, you do like girls, then?"
"I like - yes. I do." Remus turns back to the television and wills the fire from his cheeks. "Like girls, I mean. You saw me. It's not like I - stopped - you. I just." A pause. "Why do you ask?"
"Just curious." And there a smile, with white and very pretty teeth. Remus smiles in return.
It's near the end of the movie when Sirius finally wakes, mumbling and rubbing his eyes and smiling before blinking widely and child-like. He looks around curiously, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth and catching his bearings. Coughing softly, he rises up in an elegant motion and kisses Remus chastely on the mouth, just a nice good morning, not realizing Lily's growing grimace. "Mm," Sirius mumbles: Remus tastes of spearmint gum, and Sirius of whiskey.
"Hey there," Remus says to his boy. "Sleep well?"
Sirius nods and sits up so he might lie against Remus' shoulder, sliding into it warmly. "Hey Evans," Sirius says, noticing Lily, inflecting his words with a bit of a London drawl, memories of aristocracy and irritation.
Lily smiles shallowly.
The dark-haired boy turns to Remus: "I still feel drunk."
"You are drunk." Remus feigns disinterest, running a hand over Sirius' forehead and pushing his hair back from his face. "We should go to seep soon."
Sirius shakes his head vehemently: "Not yet."
Lily watches them move and her anger builds in fractions, propelled with every tick of the clock. The way Remus cups Sirius' chin like it's the easiest goddamn thing in the world and how Remus won't do that to her and how James doesn't even want to do that to her, the stupid faggot. She thinks for a moment she's surrounded by homosexuals and she's not far off, to be honest, because look at Sirius' hand, arm bent in a crook behind his head, stroking Remus gently through his jeans. She feels left out (she thinks, tucking hair behind her ears) and angry, that James and Sirius are so - and Sirius has Remus too, just bending and writhing at his whim, and it's always fucking Sirius, isn't it? Sirius spreading his legs and taking everyone's love and hoarding it like a magpie, whoring it and gathering it and leaving everyone else to just sit in the grip of the television and watch, like cold fucking voyeurs. Lily bites her lower lip, hard.
As the credits of the movie roll, James speaks: "He's here!"
Sirius, again: "Really?"
"Yeah! I can see him, he's walking down the street now. I can see him!"
The four quickly assemble in the kitchen. Sirius searches frantically for his shirt, but is still at a loss by the time Dumbledore sweeps into the flat, dropping a brown-paper parcel on the kitchen counter as he enters. "Good evening," the Professor says in a fast whisper, eyeing in a single motion the teenagers and the almost-empty bottle of whiskey on the kitchen table. "You've been keeping safe?"
"Yes, Professor," Lily says. "We finished the last batch two nights ago and they've all been sent out."
"Very good. We need these done as fast as possible, please. The Order will be having a meeting in south London tomorrow night. We need one representative. Ms. Evans, if you please?"
"Certainly, Professor."
Dumbledore gives a wide smile. "Thank you, all. And Mr. Black, I would recommend a shirt, it's going to be quite cold tonight."
"Yes, Professor," Sirius mumbles to the floor.
"Professor, um, might I ask where Peter is?" Remus asks a bit shyly, never quite sure how to talk to authority, especially people like Dumbledore.
"With his mother, at the moment," Dumbledore says with a wide smile. "I believe he has convinced her to cut him loose, as it were. He should be joining you shortly." He turns to the others: "Any other questions?"
"Professor?" James asks suddenly. "I've heard of other - other students doing patrols around - around town. Do you think we might -"
"Not in London, Mr. Potter. Some students have been doing patrols in various other cities, their hometowns and such. Not in London. It is much too dangerous in London for students to be about."
"I was just thinking - we did graduate with honours, we're all perfectly capab -"
"My answer remains the same as last time, Mr. Potter." He parts his hands in a sign of appeasement. "I will see you on the morrow, Ms. Evans, and the rest of you, I shall notify by owl." With a smile, he leaves the house and disappears down the dark street in a flurry of snow and black robes.
They stand, in four, together for a moment, in silence, the arctic whirl of wind whipping about them and pricking from their arms the pins of cold. Sirius crosses his arms and tucks his hands under his armpits, the cold of the night unfurling along his naked body harshly, which moves Remus to tuck one arm around his back and into the hem of his jeans, half automatic and half possession.
"Fuck this," James says sharply into the echoing silence. "Fuck this." His anger fires and builds like a rolling thunder. "I fucking hate this. Fuck him." He sounds in shades hysterical. "This is so fucking ridiculous! Why can't we fucking do something? Fucking memos." He slams his hand against the chipped granite counter. "Fuck this. Fuck - fuck everything. I'm going to fucking bed." He stomps out of the kitchen and upstairs, footsteps rumbling down the hall (the thunder passing through.)
The three remaining exchange glances before Sirius bites his lip and says: "I'll go talk to him."
"Okay," Lily says, blankly, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. "Go do that."'
Sirius sends her a sharp glance before kissing Remus quickly on the lips and disappearing up the staircase. "G'night," he says over his shoulder, almost too eager.
"I guess we've got the other bed," Lily says. Remus nods in reply. "We should clean up here, first."
"Okay," Remus replies blankly.
Beer bottles go in recycling; whiskey bottle in the cabinet; pizza boxes disposed of; grape stems tossed; lumpy milk down the drain, paper sorted in piles; pillows organized; television turned off. An hour later (they drag the tasks out like a torture, both too afraid to walk in on their black-haired boys), Remus and Lily go upstairs.
The bedroom is dark, so Lily lights her wand. The algebra of sex is easy to solve: Sirius' clothes piled on top of James', trousers in the middle of the room, James' shirt at the door, boxers by the foot of the bed. The boys sleep tangled, impossibly awkward, naked and only half-covered by their single blanket. They're pressed closer than Remus had ever thought people could be - it's like they're occupying the same place, not knowing what belonged to whom, arms and legs tied in cooperation, pressed powerfully close together, chests flush, thighs together, hands curled and pressed down the cleft of an arse, cocks - well, Remus looks away, not sure if he's jealous, embarrassed, excited, angry, or all of the above. He turns to Lily. She's not angry; actually, she looks a little sick; he reaches for her hand on instinct and immediately questions himself: what is this, a goddamn funeral?
The two friends peel off their clothes back to back, Remus down to boxers and Lily to bra and panties. They slip into bed and press to opposite sides, Remus up against the hard white wall, Lily's arm dangling over the edge over the mattress, gazing towards the other bed.
She stares at the boys - at Sirius' back and Sirius' arse and James' hand pressed all against it - for a long time, as the boys move sleepily, hands roaming absently over the fields of skin in the fits of sleep. And then: "I'm freezing," Lily says, her voice bundled and coiled.
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
God, what a loaded word. "Would you like me to -"
"Yes," she says in a rush. "Please."
Remus rolls towards her, and slides his arms around her from behind, nestling his mouth in the crook between her shoulder and her neck, tasting the freckled skin and fins himself wondering if James has ever kissed the same part of her before. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight." Choked back, and Remus isn't sure what to say.
"Uh, sleep well?"
"Yeah. Sure. You too."
Remus blinks into her skin. "Sweet dreams?"
"Yeah. Okay."
A few minutes of silence, Remus coughs gently and says: "This is worse, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Compared to before. When they slept together. This time it's - worse, isn't it?"
"No." She sighs. "Yes."
"Mm," Remus says in what he hopes is a comforting tone.
"It's Sirius."
"What about him?" Remus nuzzles in closer, trying to comfort her, trying to do the things he's seen James do to her, the things James has done to Sirius.
"Nevermind."
Remus stays silent, but he doesn't nevermind.
Sirius and James snore lightly, in unison, in and out like the distant sound of surf. Remus and Lily listen. It takes a long, long time before they finally drift off too.
***
They apparate in the kitchen, James immediately falling from Dumbledore's arms into a heap on the floor. Remus and Lily run in from the living room, pale and slick with cold sweat. Lily immediately falls to James' side, tears blurring her make-up into grayish threads that run to her chin.
"I'll get a - I'll be back," Dumbledore says, vanishing with a thin pop and the faint smell of matches.
Sirius falls back and slams his head against the kitchen drawers. He can barely breathe from sobbing and Remus just stands there, stunned into inaction, looking down on the boys, fists balled with worry, barely holding back tears. Lily is working some strange magic, trying to stem the flow of blood from James' wounds, now glaring and wet and red once his jacket and shirt have been removed.
Dumbledore returns in less than a minute, appearing with a mediwizard in a furious white flash. It's only seconds before James is lifted and hoisted away to their bedroom, cures thrust upon him with wand waves and heavy muttering and thick vials of syrup and powder.
Lily sits at the kitchen table, worrying her hands, meshing her fingers and choking back tears. Remus, as awkward as ever, finally slides in next to Sirius and rests his head on his friend's shoulder. A silent symbol, wordless but worth more than any assurance.
They just have to wait.
***
Lily sits to the right of James' bed. Sirius sits to the left. Lily holds James' hand. Sirius drinks from a cup of water.
What time is it? No clocks in here, window shows it's dark, somewhere in that nameless time where reality becomes madness. Snow falls in lumps; lulling and lazy rather than childish and romantic as Sirius would normally think. The dark-haired boy worries the edge of a blanket absently, tugging out threads and making knots in the slim tails of fabric he frees. He's just about ready to jump out the window.
"You're a bastard, you know that," Lily says quietly for what feels like the hundredth time.
"I know I am." Sirius sounds dead.
"How fucking - I just don't fucking get you." Swear words always sound worse coming from the lips of girl. "Why would you even do it? You knew it wasn't safe - you knew he would go after you!"
Sirius' head lolls, daring sleep, and Lily's now constant berating come like a distant fuzz, white noise in a mind solely focused on the gentle huff of James' breaths. "I don't know why I did it."
"You must have some - you must know why you disregarded a direct order, Black."
"I wasn't thinking." God, how many times did they have to go over this?
"No kidding."
"I just needed to get out," Sirius repeats.
"You're a selfish, entitled bastard," Lily says.
"Yeah," Sirius agrees blankly.
"God, I don't fucking understand you." Lily kicks the foot of the bed impatiently. "I don't understand where you get off having everyone wait on you hand and foot. You've got the boys in this house wrapped around your little finger."
"I don't want them to be," Sirius says to his feet. "I didn't ask for it."
"That's right, you demanded it."
Sirius remains silent.
"And now you don't even know why," Lily continues. "Can't even give a good reason why James is the one on that bed and not you." She strokes a hand to her boy's cheek and sweeps James' hair from his forehead.
"I needed to get out," Sirius says sullenly.
"What?" Lily asks sharply.
"I needed to get out of this damn house."
"Oh, Christ, you selfish - and that's what made you run away? You were bored?"
"And I saw you and - and Remus."
Lily sighs, but it's more of a growl. "So, what, you're jealous of me?"
"No - no - it wasn't - I - just," Sirius stumbles along. "I needed to get away - from - from you."
"From me?"
Sirius nods.
Lily looks at him, standing somewhere between curiosity and mistrust. "What do you mean by that?"
"I - don't know. I just. I really don't know, I just knew I had to - to get away from you."
"Are you - are you serious?" She doesn't know what to make of it, what to make of this sweet-eyed, dirty-faced angel who seems to have taken Sirius' place; this boy who feigns innocence and shame when he's accused.
Sirius nods and says nothing, like a scolded child sitting in his chair, just a veil of black hair and a bundle of clothes, fingers teasing the edge of his cup, lips being bitten into blood.
"God, Black, what's your problem? You're always running away - from your family, from your problems. Stand up and face me, for God's sake. Why didn't you talk to me?" Lily's frustration is nearly tangible. "Grow up, my God. You've got friends who are willing to die for you but you want to throw all that away - because, what, Remus and James like me? You know, the second James figured out you'd left, he grabbed his jacket and chased after you. Didn't even think about bringing his wand. Left, just like that." She takes a deep breath, and looks to her fallen boy, still sleeping sweetly. "I don't even think he would do that for me."
Silence again, and Sirius plays his fingers in circles over James' limp palm, not trusting his voice to work just right now. He waits for Lily's cycle of anger to begin anew so he can just nod at her questions until her frustration builds up so much that she siphons it off by calling Sirius a cunt - which he is, God, he really is - it's just that he's getting tired of being told he is.
"You really do hate me, don't you?" Lily says, strangely quiet, not taking her eyes from James.
Sirius looks up. Purple-shadowed eyes, bloodshot; he still has dirt and blood smeared up against his cheek and his hair is a tangled mess. Gryffindor scarf is choked tight around his neck, and his hands tremble (cold or worry?) He's a disaster, pasty and white like he just spent a year underground. How strange, his copper skin gone pale, his lustrous hair gone coarse, and all from James, sleeping-James now, James who almost died but is okay thanks to quick thinking (definitely not on Sirius' part.)
"I don't hate you."
"You must. You certainly like torturing me enough."
"Whatever." Sirius doesn't have the energy to argue.
"I don't care if you like me or not, just leave James out of this," Lily says blankly.
"I didn't mean to get him hurt," Sirius says. "I didn't expect him to follow me."
"That's not what I meant," Lily says bitterly.
"What did you mean?"
Lily sighs. "I mean," she says slowly and deliberately, "he's wearing your clothes."
"He's wearing my -" and then it dawns on him. "Oh."
"If you can't handle seeing him - well, maybe you should stop it altogether. It would be better for - for everyone."
"Oh."
They're silent for a long time.
"I don't hate you."
Lily looks up, and it's her turn to look like shit. Cold sweat and worry don't do much for a lady's complexion; hair messed all around, sleep thick around her eyes (like dark bruises), her whole body seeming to sag in her seat. "What?"
"I don't hate you, I said."
"I got that much."
"Oh. Well. That's all, really. I don't hate you."
"You have a funny way of showing it," she says, looking everywhere but at him.
"We get along sometimes."
"Yeah, when you're with James. Or Remus. When you don't have to acknowledge my existence. When it's just us, that's another story."
"I never know what to say to you."
"So instead you ignore me and sleep with my -"
Sirius narrows his eyes. "Your what?"
"My - boy. Friend. Boyfriend." Her lips slide into a thin line, as if bracing herself against the word, like it's some prickly thing she has to hold between her teeth with great care. "With my boyfriend."
"Oh. Right." Sirius' lips sag, and he seems just so young now, just drained, sweet and innocent but broken to some degree, like he's just turned back the clock and he's listening to his mother again - blood traitor, worthless, unwanted - and he's eleven and just tired of it all. "Fine," he says, "whatever. You win. That's what you want, right? I won't touch James - I won't - do anything to him. He's yours. Take him" It's too late, too goddamn late and he's been through too much.
Lily looks at him, stares at him mostly. What did he say - that's what she wants? That is what she wants, isn't it? She wants Sirius to give up, to just be James' friend and leave him out of all of this, all of his games, his seductions. Right? She bites her lip. She wants that, right? She wants to think it is, wants to think that she wants to best Sirius, to take James as her own (he's not a possession, for God's sake, he's a person, a person she loves) but strangely, she still feels wronged, somehow. She looks up and she sees Sirius, just there, slumped in his seat, willing sleep or death or whatever it is he wants, and she feels compelled. Compelled to beat him up and compelled to kiss him. Compelled to heal him and compelled to break him all over again. Compelled to fuck him senseless and compelled to chop him into pieces. And was it all because of personal pride? Was it all jealousy? No. It's all to do with Sirius, goddamn Sirius, and seven years of contact but never really touching: "Why didn't you ever want me?"
"What?"
"You had Remus, and James, and Peter. But - but never me. I was - what, off-limits? Are you gay? Is that it?"
"No! No - I'm not gay."
"Then - why didn't you - why didn't you want me?" God help her if anyone hears her sound this pathetic, but it's just Sirius - and that's just it, isn't it? It's Sirius and somehow that makes this okay, almost normal, because it's Sirius. Yeah, God help her.
Sirius takes a deep breath. "Because - you were -" and he hates himself for saying this, but it's all he has to offer: "you."
"I was me?"
Sirius looks at his feet. "Lily, I couldn't do that to James."
Oh God. The wind and the snow scratch against the window and in that cold fluorescent light Lily understands now. Understands why Sirius kept his distance and just smiled and nodded when James was around. Why, when James wasn't around, Sirius would always pick a fight, or do something stupid, or offend her in some way. And she smiles for the stupidity of it, smiles for the sheer lunacy of everything, James almost dying and Sirius telling her this, and goddamn she was either going to laugh or cry or both. "You called me Lily."
"Yeah," Sirius says, looking up. "I did."
"So all the - glares at me, and the - coldness - you were actually just, you were in love -"
"Yes. Just. Don't even. I don't like that word," Sirius says, almost like he's depressed. "Can we just be - can we just be Lily and Sirius? I don't want to - mess anything up."
"Yeah, sure." She sounds a bit wistful, like she's not quite there (hands at her hair, twirling it around her finger, or else biting her fingernails.) "I just - I want you to know - I love you too -"
Sirius looks up and shakes his head tightly. She smiles and shuts up. They're quiet for a long time. Lily wants to reach out and touch him but doesn't really know how. It all makes sense now, but just as that question is answer, a whole new set perks up and it's all about the whys of their relationship now, as opposed to the why nots.
Lily brushes her hair back behind her ears. "You think one day we could ever get along?"
"I'd like to."
"You and your friends are crazy, have I ever told you that? You're all nutters - all of you. You most of all. You're pretty much mental. I just don't get it." She laughs, just barely, and it's pretty damn sweet.
"I don't get it either." He smiles, and for once it's kind of genuine.
A hard breath, and then that question, that damn floating question, the curse of youth: "Kiss me?"
Sirius nods, a little embarrassed, a little sweet.
"Does everyone in this house have to ask?" James mumbles, eyes blinking open. "You're all - all fucking wankers."
"James!" Lily and Sirius say in tangent, falling in on him like vultures on carrion, kissing his cheeks, trying to hug him while avoiding the bandages, just trying to touch him, feel that he's there, that he's alive, that he's theirs.
"Calm down, guys." His voice is limp, and tired. But it's there, and it's James.
"I'm so sorry, mate," Sirius nearly pleads, like he's reading the last rites, "I didn't mean to run - you didn't have to - and - God - me and Lily -"
"It's okay, Sirius," James says dismissively. "Don't worry 'bout it. Any of it. My own damn fault."
"God, James, I was so worried," Lily says, just barely holding in - what was it? Either a punch or tears, she looks ready to do both. "You're such a - you're insufferable and I love you." It's the first time she's said it out loud.
"I love you too," James says, feeling sleep crawl along him again, his fingers going pins-and-needles, his eyes drooping though his smile is firm. "Now, are you going to?"
"Going to what?" Lily asks, stroking his face gently.
"Kiss Sirius?"
"N-no, James - it was - it's not like that," she says, sounding different, some strange voice reaching through her and shaking her voice in a way that's definitely not Lily.
"I've kissed him. It's only fair if you do," James says, turning to look at Sirius. "Please? I'm on my deathbed - just, grant me this."
"No, you're not," Sirius says, that pleading tone still ripe in his voice. "James, you're going to be fine. Don't be so fucking dramatic."
"Kiss, please?" James insists.
Sirius looks to Lily, who shrugs a bit. They kiss, it's clean and sweet, more of a peck than anything else. Just gentle, like a cherry, a taste before it's gone and they part, looking to James as if asking, was that okay?
"You guys are boring. That wasn't a kiss. Are you related?"
Sirius says: "Are - are you serious?"
"No, you're Sirius," James says: old joke, familiar joke.
"Okay." Sirius swallows deeply and looks at Lily. It's hard not to be caught up in her, red hair and green eyes, skin like pastels and thin lips; it's not a stretch to imagine her as an actress, but it's also not much of a stretch to see her as a mother. "Lily?" She nods.
They kiss this time, they kiss like they're lovers and not like they're friends. They kiss like Sirius is James, or Lily is Remus. They kiss like they haven't fought, ever, and that they're the perfect - the perfect everything. Adam and Eve, Virginia and Vita, Laura and Petrarch, Shakespeare and his fair youth, Endymion and his moon, Gertrude and Alice. They're all the sonnets and all the love, and they pull it like a rabbit out of a hat, just out of nowhere; James couldn't ever have imagined Sirius kiss someone that way, seeing him so open, so emptied of everything but scraps; just this boy and just those lips.
"Yeah," James says, "see, it's fun."
"Go to sleep," Lily says, her cheeks filling with a blush. "You're sick, you know that?"
"You liked it," James says, slipping into that place between worlds.
"Shut up," Sirius adds in.
"Yep." James sighs. "I knew it."
*
"Si-ri-uuus!" James calls from upstairs, dragging the syllables into a kind of howl. Sirius wakes up, eyes fluttering quickly as he hears James call him again. Remus snuffles and snores a bit, head resting on Sirius' lap, rolling over in gentle sleep - always a deep sleeper. Sirius toys with his hair absently; lovely brown hair in a silly mess around his head, just a sweet halo of boyhood. He waits for the command: "Come upstairs, Pads!"
Sirius sighs and extricates himself from Remus, boy stretched along the couch and only shifting in dreams. James' calls are familiar by this point, Sirius having taken it upon himself to care for his boy as penance for the previous stupidity, but they're no less irritating. He probably just wants his bandage changed, or tea, or food, or something. Sirius sighs, gives Remus a silly forlorn look and treads dutifully up the stairs, shuffling to the bedroom door and poking his head in: empty.
"Jamie?" Sirius asks gently.
"Pads - in the bathroom."
Sirius rounds down the end of the hall and pushes open the bathroom door. A rush of steam breathes into his face, but Sirius is quick to catch on: lying together in the oversized Victorian claw-footed tub are James and Lily, each naked and pressed to opposite sides, knees rising from the water like little islands, their legs locked together like a zipper. They're flushed red from the heat, their faces and chests, and steam billows in clouds from the surface of the water as a thin film of bubble like sea foam breaks around their skin. Sirius looks at them curiously; intrigued, embarrassed, enamoured. They just look so - happy. Together, sweetly. What war?
"Hey Pads," James says, smiling a shit-eating grin. "Wanna join us?"
Sirius looks at them warily, closing the bathroom door and rush of cold air behind him. "What, in there?"
"It's comfy," James continues. "Very comfy."
"Come on," Lily says, turning to cross her arms over the ceramic lip of the tub. "We won't bite."
"Much," James says with a grin.
It's just the crazy kind of thing James would want to do, and just the kind of crazy game Sirius would invent. But Lily - is this, okay? Just her smile tells him it is, and he feels red blood course to his cheeks. Recklessness takes hold: "You know what? Sure."
Sirius tugs off his t-shirt and drops it to the floor, which is quickly joined by the clank of his belt and trousers and a pair of plaid blue boxers, which Sirius kicks off easily. He makes no move to cover himself; indeed, he seems to enjoy showing himself - dark wisp of hair around his cock, hands sliding up to touch his own nipples and slip around his ribs. He pads carefully over the wet tile floor and takes James and Lily's offered hands, stepping easily into the bath. The water is hot, very hot, and his skin prickles and glows red as he lowers himself in, but the momentary discomfort is fair pay for the sweetness of the place, the comfort of having his muscles loosen for the first time in, God, months. Sirius settles in the middle of the tub, sliding back so he's fully immersed and curling in diagonally towards James, wriggling his legs into the sweet tangle at the centre. The heat of the water grips around him like a blanket, and immediately thoughts of war and memos drift away, unanchored in this sea of hot.
"Agghh this is nice," Sirius moans. "I fully approve of this game."
Lily leans forward and kisses Sirius cheek, and lips, and eyelid, and forehead, sloppily and loosely, wet with spit and water. It's like she wants him to know: it's okay, we're okay, I want you here, don't worry. Marking her territory with heat-swollen lips and possessive hands under the water.
"I can see your boobies," Sirius says as she leans back to her position.
"Yeah," James says, cheerfully. "They're great."
Lily makes no move to cover them. "And I can see your cocks."
God, it's like being a kid again, and they all grin.
Time slithers onwards, and the three lie back, eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep, only rising occasionally to slip a hand through the water and touch a chest, or a stomach, slide gently along a cock, or ply against a waist. Just a sullen, recurring familiarity, little threads of contact drawing them inextricably together. They talk sometimes too, but it's always absent, always silly:
"You know," Sirius says through a haze, "Elizabeth Taylor became a Jew to marry Eddie Fisher."
"Mm?" James mumbles.
"I mean, how sweet is that?"
"But she left him, didn't she?"
Sirius moves impatiently and shifts to rest his chin on James' shoulder, sloshing the water around them in waves. "You're so unromantic." Lily watches with a smile; she slides her leg up and rubs it down Sirius' chest, pausing at his bellybutton and just gently drifting over his cock.
"Well, she had Richard Burton after, didn't she?"
"But she didn't become a Jew for him. He was just a boring old Welshman."
James chews absently on his lower lip. "She didn't become Welsh for him though, did she?"
"That's not the point, James," Lily adds.
"Yeah, Jamie," Sirius agrees. "The point is - would you become a Jew for me?"
James opens his eyes and rubs them with his good hand. "What?"
"Do you have a hearing problem or something?"
James sighs, knowing he's falling right into Sirius' trap. "Why would I become a Jew for you?"
"Why not?"
"Well, first of all, you're not even Jewish and, well, second of all - boys can't marry. I mean, we can marry, just - not each other. Not yet in any case."
"Who cares if I'm not a Jew, I'm asking if you would become one for me. What if I just wanted you to become a Jew?"
"Why would you want me to be a Jew?"
"Christ, James," Sirius says, shifting to bite James' shiny wet shoulder with irritation "never mind the why, I'm just asking if you would become one if I asked you to."
"No - why would I? I don't get the point of this."
"God," Sirius says, "there's not a romantic bone in your body."
"I would become Jewish for you, Sirius," Lily says gently, lulled pleasantly by the conversation.
"Mm, thank you, Lily," Sirius says with a smile. "At least someone understands my complexities."
Their talk drifts in circles, lazy hands swilling the water only to catch other hands and hold, or slip up skin and find tender places to pinch and tickle. They spill water a lot, and they refill it with their wands. It's strange, this moment, like a section divided from reality; this bathtub, floating on clouds and spilt water, nothing real. Sometimes Sirius gets bored and he rubs his hand over James cock, thrilled with the rise in his palm, but he doesn't finish and James doesn't mind; it's not really the time or place. Sometimes Sirius will shift and slide in closer to Lily, kiss her throat and move down to her breasts, face full in the hot water, emerging from it panting and red.
The conversation billows into lazy argument:
"Okay, okay," James says. "Here, answer this - King Crimson or Pink Floyd?"
"Pfft," Sirius sounds off, "no contest: King Crimson."
"No way," Lily counteracts. "Definitely Pink Floyd."
James laughs. "Fine then, Bob Dylan or Donovan?"
Sirius: "Dylan all the way."
"Come on, Sirius," Lily quips, "Donovan was doing his stuff way before Dylan. He practically taught Dylan."
"Lily, you can't compare - what, 'Hurdy Gurdy Man' with, like, 'Buckets of Rain.' No sane person could ever make that comparison."
"I can - I am. Donovan isn't as - he's not as talented, but at least Donovan didn't take everything he did so seriously." Lily leans forward and kisses James' knobby knees absently. "Donovan was the better entertainer."
Sirius laughs in disbelief: "The only thing Donovan ever inspired was - what, getting stoned? Dylan started a fucking revolution."
"Oh my God, I can't believe you just said that!" Lily says, leaning back and clapping a hand over her mouth. "That's so - Dylan just latched on to the civil rights movement, he didn't start it!"
"He was the voice of it!"
"The white voice, maybe," Lily retorts.
"Okay, kids, okay, calm down," James says, shifting gently toward Sirius, rubbing one hand over the slick wet of his chest, tweaking a nipple in curiosity. "How about - Jimi Hendrix or - or Frank Zappa?"
"Oh God, Jamie - how the fuck am I supposed to choose?"
"No, it's easy. Definitely Hendrix," Lily says off hand. "Jimi Hendrix did things to a guitar - things that people shouldn't be able to do."
"But Zappa - sure, Hendrix had some crazy solos, but Zappa changed the - changed the face of music. I mean, he did things, not just with a guitar, but with music - music itself. He changed rock music. Hendrix just changed the guitar." Sirius leans further back and closes his eyes. "Yeah, Zappa is better."
"Who cares if he changed music if he's unlistenable!" Lily says, nudging Sirius' thigh with her foot.
"Oh, God, that's an arrow through my heart - Lily, you're mad. Hendrix is great but - you can't compare."
James runs his hand over Sirius forehead and pushes his hair back, like he was stroking a family pet. "Okay, okay, here's the clincher: Bowie or T. Rex?"
Sirius looks at Lily warily. "T. Rex - let me guess, you're going to say -"
"Bowie."
"God! I knew it! You like shitty music!"
"Bowie isn't shitty music - he's a genius!"
Sirius rolls his eyes. "Oh good, a bloke can put on make-up and sing about spaceships. Just like James Joyce, that one."
Lily laughs: "And what, Marc Bolan didn't wear make-up?"
"Look at the music! 'Get It On' was a fucking anthem! And 'Children of the Revolution'! And what did Bowie give us? Major Tom. Take your protein pills, Lily: Bowie is shit."
"I can't believe you called James Joyce a genius -"
"Oh, don't even go there, Lily," Sirius growls. "I'll drown you right here, right now."
"All he did was ramble on about -"
Sirius throws his arms up, splashing the three of them as he did so: "It wasn't rambling! It was - was poetry!"
Just then: a creak. The stairs creak, and the three of them freeze. How strange the war can come in packages as small as a noise, just a sliver of disturbance; Lily has her wand in hand, and Sirius makes a move to step from the bath. In a moment they're ready to fight -
"What the -" Remus says calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. "What are you guys doing?"
War dissolves, once more, like a teaspoon of sugar in the hot water.
"Remus!" Sirius exclaims brightly, settling himself back in the bath. "We're relaxing. Mmmm."
"Man, Lily, they got you too?" Remus says, lips quirked to a smile.
"Yep," Lily says sweetly. "And you're next."
"Yeah!" James grins. "Remus. Strip. Now."
"Come on, I'm not getting in there," Remus says off-hand, though he closes the door behind him. "You're all - there's something wrong in your head. I thought we were fighting?"
"Nuh-uh," Sirius says. "We're bathing."
Lily stands up in the bath, as naked as Venus. Her hair is darker at the base of her neck, where it was slick in the water; the rest is dry and held high in a bun - how odd, the things you notice when a girl is naked. Her freckles glean just barely from the red of her skin. They stretch down like a peppered constellation, down her chest, to her thighs and waist. He follows the trail, about her breasts and to her hips. God, what a girl. She extends a hand, and Remus blushes deeply.
"Come on, Remus," she says. "You'll like it."
"There's no room," Remus says, feeling the last bastions of his defences collapsing.
"We'll make room," James says.
"You can sit on my lap," Sirius says with a laugh.
"But I don't want to - you guys are mad -"
"Mm, tant pis," Sirius says, giving Remus that look, that damned look that started their friendship, started their relationship, started everything good and bad in their short, short lives.
Remus falters. Lily is getting cold, and he can see the water drop from her like melting snow. It overwhelms him, like a wave; her red hair and Sirius and James pressed all against each other, wet and bright, like polished ivory. "Fine. Fine, I'll get in."
The girl, smiling, slips back in the water, and the three of them watch as Remus unbuttons his Oxford cotton shirt and lets it slip from his slim shoulders. "Could you guys at least - uh, not watch?" Remus says over his shoulder, having turned his back to them.
"Don't be a pansy," Sirius retorts. "We've seen you naked loads of times."
Remus sighs and swipes off his trousers and boxers in one movement, flicking off his socks as he does. He moves in awkward steps to the bath, one hand covering himself, the other gripping the edge of the tub warily.
"See, there's no room," he says impatiently.
"There's room!" Sirius quips. "You're just making excuses."
And like Moses, the legs part from the centre; Sirius shifts to one side, and Lily and James sidle off, leaving a perfect little space across from Sirius. Remus withers a bit, but he lets himself get dragged into the water, slipping into the gap as the legs come back into the mesh, two more knees joining them in the center. It's more than a little tight (it's fucking packed, like sardines) but that's all the sweeter; the knot of legs makes it hard to move, but every shift sees a foot brush against a thigh, or toes tickling up the leg of another; it's all bubbles and laughter. Remus leans in to Lily and finds her expecting hands, sliding easily own his stomach and over his thighs, resting there, just sometimes fluttering in the waves and the water.
After only a few minutes of settling in, she speaks:
"James?" A little seductively.
"Yeah?"
"Kiss Sirius."
"What? Why?"
Lily nudges his thigh with her foot, sloshing the water a bit. "I want to see it. I want to see what I was - missing."
"You're sick, you know that?" James complains with no real conviction.
"Please?"
James sighs. "Sirius?"
"Okay, sure," Sirius shrugs off.
Lily grins as James and Sirius lean forward to catch each other. Sirius is a bit more playful, and instead of trapping mouths, Sirius catches his friend's lip in a bite, tugging on it and compelling James (whimpering) to slide forward into him. Two hands - one each - slide up to touch cheeks, and they kiss, noses dripping with bathwater and wet caught between their mouths. They get stuck in it easily, and they find themselves blurring into each other, deepening their kiss and gripping harder and sliding sweetly. But soon the heat evaporates, like steam in the air, and they collapse back in their places with a quiet sigh.
"Happy?" James says, though not exactly annoyed.
"Nope."
"What?"
"Kiss Remus too."
James groans. "Why?" He knows he's already lost.
"It's only fair."
James closes his eyes and rubs them in exasperation, before: "Remus?"
"Uh, whatever. If you want." Remus shrugs. "I don't mind."
"C'mere," James says, leaning up and sliding a hand around the back of Remus' neck. They connect gently, and it takes a bit of suggestion from James before Remus parts his lips and lets their tongues dart and touch together. It's the polar opposite to the earlier kiss; they exchange Sirius' playfulness with intimacy, his passion with sweetness. They flit about, hummingbirds in battle, tongues dancing and mouth clasping and releasing, just fluttering over depth. They switch sides often, noses brushing in Eskimo, while their lips lock in something like harmony, sliding in wet, pushing and pulling in tandem. After just a half-minute, Remus breaks, leaning away from James who seems to peel off almost reluctantly.
"Phwoar," Sirius says, grinning.
"Wow," Lily adds.
"Yeah, wow," James says, putting a finger to his lips. "That was - wow. Remus, good on you."
Remus blushes and curls lower under the water, letting it creep up to his nose.
"Was that the first time you two've kissed?" Lily asks.
"Yeah," James says, rolling his shoulders back and slipping deeper in the water. "And not a bad start, I think." He closes his eyes and sighs in relaxation. "You happy now?"
Lily smiles. "No."
"What? Who's left?"
"Kiss me - if you still like girls, I mean."
James smiles and leans forward, kissing her loudly and wetly on the mouth. "I still like girls. I love you." Lily mouths it back, grabbing his hand under the water.
"Gaahhh," Sirius groans, sinking deeper into the bath. "You're so fucking lame, James."
"Sirius?" Remus says, a bit mischievously, his cheeks full red. "I love you."
"I love you too, honey sweetie," Sirius moans, leaning forward to kiss him in pecks on the nose. "My little Moony-face."
The four of them fall back and sigh, coiling deeper in the bath. Lily takes her wand from the bath-side table and stirs it about the water, which has gone warm; it immediately heats up, steam coming in clouds from the surface as the three boys shiver and moan, halfway between pleasure and pain.
Time drifts on in that way it has, Sirius occasionally leaning into kiss Lily, and Remus on the lips, James' jaw-line. Time condenses against the mirror, and the cold, iced windows. Time condenses in dew drops on their nose, on their eyebrows and along their eyelashes. Sometimes James, or else Sirius, will duck under the water and slick back their hair, tossing it to spray the friends with water - this leads, inevitably, to splashing, to laughing, to childishness.
And then they stop, and they talk.
And then they stop, and they drink from the wide bottle of wine.
And then they stop, and they kiss.
And then they stop, and they sigh; the four of them talking only in fragments before at last they fall asleep; their fingers pruning, the water cooling, the night going on, and on, and on.
Pairing: Sirius/James/Lily/Remus
Word Count: 18,337 words
Summary: Isolated from the war, tensions clash and mount, building and building; a storm in a teacup. Can four people exist in a single relationship?
Warnings: Swearing, violence, bloodplay, comeplay, betrayal, deceit, het, slash, foursome, alcohol use.
Author's notes: Written for anjenue for hp_springsmut.
Part 1
Sirius cocks an eyebrow and tries to read his friend. "It's cold," Sirius says cautiously. James doesn't budge, so Sirius does as he's told. "God, it's freezing." His back arches and he writhes a bit from the chill of the tile, kicking a bit and shifting, trying childishly to find warmth.
James crawls over him, hard cock sliding down over Sirius', brushing up against him and rolling hot about his waist. "Put on a record."
Sirius finds and flicks his wand to the record player on the coffee table in the next room. The needle clicks and snaps into place, and Frank Zappa's Hot Rats begins to play. The strange, swirling music is just enough to tip them off the edge of friendliness into the floating miasma of boys' sexual confusion.
James takes Sirius' mouth with his own, biting hard on the boy's lips and pulling, forcing Sirius to follow him in a movement, mewling in pain behind the kiss. James lies flat over the boy, lowering himself on hands and knees over Sirius' chest and waist. There they grind, and buck; they do boyish things, and coltish things, they don't speak and only manage whimpers and groans as they push and pull together. In a movement, a hard hand placed solidly in the plane of Sirius' chest, James goes down, slides down, sheaths Sirius' fever-hot cock in his mouth, slick and wet around his head as he tastes his best friend for the first time. Salty, a bit, and a little sour from sweat, and James smiles around Sirius and rolls his tongue and teeth.
Sirius lifts high, and forces himself into James' mouth as he whimpers, twisting back and forth as if he's pinioned, which he is, by his cock, a solid stake driven through his waist and anchored by James' teeth. It feels like he's being drained through it, every part of him pulled in a mix of pleasure and the gasping pricks of pain as James works him incalculably; his every thought is focused on his cock, like his body is in suspended animation and the only source of any feeling is the roll of tongue over the head of his dick, a mindless need and desire, an entire equation of boy reduced to a single variable.
"Come'ere." Sirius says at last, rolling up and around to push James back against the kitchen floor, hard. James hits his head and moans but doesn't complain because Sirius turns his voice in a gasp as he takes James' cock in his mouth. They shift ceaselessly, thighs touching and pressing, hands grasping at wrists, almost like they're wrestling, forcing each other apart and together, apart and together.
At last, James gets the upper hand and rolls Sirius off, pressing him roughly against the bottom of the island counter, forcing him to sit back against the wall. James grabs him by the shoulders and forces him against the wood (Sirius hits his head, slaps forward and punches James in the shoulder, hard) before he leans down and licks him, sucks him, buys with his tongue a one-way ticket to hell. Sirius tries to move, but James' hands keep him hard against the wood, able only to nudge with his legs, pushing James' head as he - as he -
And then, escape, and Sirius punches James right between the muscles of his shoulder and neck, hard and fast. He doesn't know why, what overcame him, but he punches him and it feels good. James pulls away, leans back on his knees and feet, silently massaging his shoulder and half-glaring, half-grinning at Sirius. With barely a wink, barely a slight, James takes a swing and catches Sirius in the jaw. Sirius reels, grabbing his chin and rubbing it, biting his lips hard.
"You fucker," Sirius says thickly, through a smile. "You stupid fucker."
It's a free for all, naked and stupid and boys, honestly, what the fuck is wrong with them? Sirius tackles James, forces him down to the ground, hands pressed into his chest, pinching and scratching at the smooth skin, scrabbling like a cat. James is quick to roll him, spinning him to the floor and smashing him up against the legs of the kitchen table, Sirius' strong shoulder buckling where it slams against the tile. He gasps it in pain, but counteracts quickly, punching James first in the stomach then again in the chest with his free hand. James catches his wrists quickly and twists them mercilessly around Sirius' back, pressing the boy's face into the ground and lying parallel over him, breathing into his friend's neck.
"I win," James whispers, husky and raw.
And then Sirius throws his head back and catches James right in the chest, right into the mesh of his ribs, winding him and throwing him back, releasing his grip. Taking the opportunity, Sirius reaches and grabs James' cock in his hand, jerking him furious and hard, inflicting more pain than pleasure as he crawls over the boy to bite his neck, chew his lips, suck the coppery blood that beads at his mouth. James writhes, gasps, tries to catch his breath as he feels his stomach tighten, his insides grip, adrenalined from his pain and warped by the fire of Sirius' hand.
Like male wolves fighting for alpha status, leadership and pain dealt with teeth, the blood of their wounds, and heat of their cocks: fuck.
"Jamie," Sirius says through the haze. "Oh - oh God."
"I - I know," James replies. "Are you -"
"Fuck - yes."
They come, pressed together, James first and grabbing the back of Sirius' head, forcing him into his shoulder, and then Sirius, holding James by the waist, hard grasp around his hips and pressing rough into his skin and bone. They ride it out together, coasting and rolling on the fire, twisting like oysters in lime, crashing into each other and kissing in turn, lips and tongue, all violence draining from them like a blister.
Finally, they roll apart and breathe heavy the cold kitchen air.
"I need another fucking shower," Sirius says, wiping his hand over his mouth, tasting blood and sweat (whose?) "God, that hurt." He massages his shoulder tenderly. "Where did the punching come from?"
James says nothing, merely catches his breath on the tile floor.
"I mean, I liked it. Just. Fuck. My jaw, ow."
James coughs but maintains his silence.
"Jamie?" Sirius asks, rolling to his side and looking down to his friend. He touches a hand to James' softening cock and feels the slick of their come there, he touches a finger to it, rolls the digit almost like he's bored. "You okay?"
James sighs. "I'm okay."
"Was that - okay?"
James is sore and he's sweet and what else is there to say? "Yeah, was really - yeah."
"You punch like a girl." Sirius says, tempting him into after-play.
James rolls his shoulder back, touching it gingerly. "And you bruise like one." Sirius smiles and laughs. "Let's go have a shower."
"What, together?" Sirius asks, pushing himself up on his hands.
"Sorry, too gay for you?"
"I don't even know what the word means."
They go upstairs.
***
"You foolish -" is all Dumbledore says before grabbing Sirius' arm and leaning down to grasp James. Green and red start up again in fervour, sparks and fire following Dumbledore as he walks, chasing him like a wronged dragon. And then, with a turn and curse, the three vanish into air, the space they leave popping as the air rushes in to fill the void.
***
Lily makes tea in the kitchen as Remus watches Woody Allen's Sleeper on television and Sirius, shirtless and jean-clad, naps, head cradled gently in Remus' lap, a couple of fingers of whiskey already in him. Remus, absent to the point of ignorance, strokes Sirius' hair, curling it girlishly around his fingers and rolling it between thumb and index. James stands by the front door, searching out the window and scanning the landscape, waiting, once again, for his own personal Godot.
Lily creeps up on James and rolls her hands around his hips, cupping him lightly and giving him a cold kiss to the shoulder. "You see anything?"
James nudges a bit away from her hands and says: "No, not yet."
"Want to pass this off to Remus for a bit so we can get a bit of. Well. You know."
"I'm not really in the mood." James sighs and leans forward, pressing his forehead against the cold windowpane. "Sorry," he adds quietly. "Go watch some TV if you're bored."
"Fine, I'll do that." She turns on her heel without another word and marches into the darkened living room, falling to the couch across from Remus and crossing her arms stiffly over her chest and watches the movie without really paying attention, the television just a flickering thing in liquid blues and white, a cold glare of feathered light that reflects stupidly about the room.
"Hey, Lily," Remus says with a smile.
"Hi."
Remus opens his mouth to speak, but says nothing, lulled by her coldness. Remus hates himself for even trying. He knows Lily is angry - at James, at Sirius, at him, maybe, he doesn't really know - but he also knows can't do anything to stop it. Besides, nothing he says is the right thing, especially with girls (following that minor disaster of telling Lily that Sirius likes her), so he learns to say nothing. And after that one morning - after he realized he's connected to, well, more than just Sirius - he doesn't know exactly what to say to anyone.
They always said sex would change you.
On a breath, Lily gets off the couch and steps between Remus and the television. She leans down and catches the sandy-haired boy in a kiss, one hand slipping in behind his neck, the other steadying her on the back of the couch. Remus says something behind her mouth but the sound doesn't escape her lips. She leans into it for just a second more before releasing with a dull smack.
Remus looks at her, blinking rapidly.
"Thanks," Lily says, scarcely sounding any happier.
"Uh." Remus looks down at Sirius, still sleeping. "No problem, I guess."
What was that? - Remus reflects. Revenge?
Lily sits back down on her couch, curling her legs under her. "So, what's going on between you and Sirius anyway?" It's a little quicker, a little rougher than just an honest, curious question. This one has hidden things in it: hic sunt dracones.
"Um." Remus blushes in pinpricks. "What do you mean?"
"Well." She gestures to Sirius, sleeping peacefully in Remus' lap, leaning into the brown-haired boy's stomach and curled sweetly tight. "Are you two -"
"No."
"Oh." Lily brushes her hair behind her ear. "Sorry."
"No. I mean. I don't know. What we are, I mean."
"Well, are you - gay?"
Remus swallows thickly. "Well. No. But I'm not, er, normal. I mean. Normal as in - average. You know - I mean - we were fifteen when we - it's just, girls hadn't been invented yet."
She smiles. "I do know." An artful pause. "So, you do like girls, then?"
"I like - yes. I do." Remus turns back to the television and wills the fire from his cheeks. "Like girls, I mean. You saw me. It's not like I - stopped - you. I just." A pause. "Why do you ask?"
"Just curious." And there a smile, with white and very pretty teeth. Remus smiles in return.
It's near the end of the movie when Sirius finally wakes, mumbling and rubbing his eyes and smiling before blinking widely and child-like. He looks around curiously, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth and catching his bearings. Coughing softly, he rises up in an elegant motion and kisses Remus chastely on the mouth, just a nice good morning, not realizing Lily's growing grimace. "Mm," Sirius mumbles: Remus tastes of spearmint gum, and Sirius of whiskey.
"Hey there," Remus says to his boy. "Sleep well?"
Sirius nods and sits up so he might lie against Remus' shoulder, sliding into it warmly. "Hey Evans," Sirius says, noticing Lily, inflecting his words with a bit of a London drawl, memories of aristocracy and irritation.
Lily smiles shallowly.
The dark-haired boy turns to Remus: "I still feel drunk."
"You are drunk." Remus feigns disinterest, running a hand over Sirius' forehead and pushing his hair back from his face. "We should go to seep soon."
Sirius shakes his head vehemently: "Not yet."
Lily watches them move and her anger builds in fractions, propelled with every tick of the clock. The way Remus cups Sirius' chin like it's the easiest goddamn thing in the world and how Remus won't do that to her and how James doesn't even want to do that to her, the stupid faggot. She thinks for a moment she's surrounded by homosexuals and she's not far off, to be honest, because look at Sirius' hand, arm bent in a crook behind his head, stroking Remus gently through his jeans. She feels left out (she thinks, tucking hair behind her ears) and angry, that James and Sirius are so - and Sirius has Remus too, just bending and writhing at his whim, and it's always fucking Sirius, isn't it? Sirius spreading his legs and taking everyone's love and hoarding it like a magpie, whoring it and gathering it and leaving everyone else to just sit in the grip of the television and watch, like cold fucking voyeurs. Lily bites her lower lip, hard.
As the credits of the movie roll, James speaks: "He's here!"
Sirius, again: "Really?"
"Yeah! I can see him, he's walking down the street now. I can see him!"
The four quickly assemble in the kitchen. Sirius searches frantically for his shirt, but is still at a loss by the time Dumbledore sweeps into the flat, dropping a brown-paper parcel on the kitchen counter as he enters. "Good evening," the Professor says in a fast whisper, eyeing in a single motion the teenagers and the almost-empty bottle of whiskey on the kitchen table. "You've been keeping safe?"
"Yes, Professor," Lily says. "We finished the last batch two nights ago and they've all been sent out."
"Very good. We need these done as fast as possible, please. The Order will be having a meeting in south London tomorrow night. We need one representative. Ms. Evans, if you please?"
"Certainly, Professor."
Dumbledore gives a wide smile. "Thank you, all. And Mr. Black, I would recommend a shirt, it's going to be quite cold tonight."
"Yes, Professor," Sirius mumbles to the floor.
"Professor, um, might I ask where Peter is?" Remus asks a bit shyly, never quite sure how to talk to authority, especially people like Dumbledore.
"With his mother, at the moment," Dumbledore says with a wide smile. "I believe he has convinced her to cut him loose, as it were. He should be joining you shortly." He turns to the others: "Any other questions?"
"Professor?" James asks suddenly. "I've heard of other - other students doing patrols around - around town. Do you think we might -"
"Not in London, Mr. Potter. Some students have been doing patrols in various other cities, their hometowns and such. Not in London. It is much too dangerous in London for students to be about."
"I was just thinking - we did graduate with honours, we're all perfectly capab -"
"My answer remains the same as last time, Mr. Potter." He parts his hands in a sign of appeasement. "I will see you on the morrow, Ms. Evans, and the rest of you, I shall notify by owl." With a smile, he leaves the house and disappears down the dark street in a flurry of snow and black robes.
They stand, in four, together for a moment, in silence, the arctic whirl of wind whipping about them and pricking from their arms the pins of cold. Sirius crosses his arms and tucks his hands under his armpits, the cold of the night unfurling along his naked body harshly, which moves Remus to tuck one arm around his back and into the hem of his jeans, half automatic and half possession.
"Fuck this," James says sharply into the echoing silence. "Fuck this." His anger fires and builds like a rolling thunder. "I fucking hate this. Fuck him." He sounds in shades hysterical. "This is so fucking ridiculous! Why can't we fucking do something? Fucking memos." He slams his hand against the chipped granite counter. "Fuck this. Fuck - fuck everything. I'm going to fucking bed." He stomps out of the kitchen and upstairs, footsteps rumbling down the hall (the thunder passing through.)
The three remaining exchange glances before Sirius bites his lip and says: "I'll go talk to him."
"Okay," Lily says, blankly, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. "Go do that."'
Sirius sends her a sharp glance before kissing Remus quickly on the lips and disappearing up the staircase. "G'night," he says over his shoulder, almost too eager.
"I guess we've got the other bed," Lily says. Remus nods in reply. "We should clean up here, first."
"Okay," Remus replies blankly.
Beer bottles go in recycling; whiskey bottle in the cabinet; pizza boxes disposed of; grape stems tossed; lumpy milk down the drain, paper sorted in piles; pillows organized; television turned off. An hour later (they drag the tasks out like a torture, both too afraid to walk in on their black-haired boys), Remus and Lily go upstairs.
The bedroom is dark, so Lily lights her wand. The algebra of sex is easy to solve: Sirius' clothes piled on top of James', trousers in the middle of the room, James' shirt at the door, boxers by the foot of the bed. The boys sleep tangled, impossibly awkward, naked and only half-covered by their single blanket. They're pressed closer than Remus had ever thought people could be - it's like they're occupying the same place, not knowing what belonged to whom, arms and legs tied in cooperation, pressed powerfully close together, chests flush, thighs together, hands curled and pressed down the cleft of an arse, cocks - well, Remus looks away, not sure if he's jealous, embarrassed, excited, angry, or all of the above. He turns to Lily. She's not angry; actually, she looks a little sick; he reaches for her hand on instinct and immediately questions himself: what is this, a goddamn funeral?
The two friends peel off their clothes back to back, Remus down to boxers and Lily to bra and panties. They slip into bed and press to opposite sides, Remus up against the hard white wall, Lily's arm dangling over the edge over the mattress, gazing towards the other bed.
She stares at the boys - at Sirius' back and Sirius' arse and James' hand pressed all against it - for a long time, as the boys move sleepily, hands roaming absently over the fields of skin in the fits of sleep. And then: "I'm freezing," Lily says, her voice bundled and coiled.
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
God, what a loaded word. "Would you like me to -"
"Yes," she says in a rush. "Please."
Remus rolls towards her, and slides his arms around her from behind, nestling his mouth in the crook between her shoulder and her neck, tasting the freckled skin and fins himself wondering if James has ever kissed the same part of her before. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight." Choked back, and Remus isn't sure what to say.
"Uh, sleep well?"
"Yeah. Sure. You too."
Remus blinks into her skin. "Sweet dreams?"
"Yeah. Okay."
A few minutes of silence, Remus coughs gently and says: "This is worse, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Compared to before. When they slept together. This time it's - worse, isn't it?"
"No." She sighs. "Yes."
"Mm," Remus says in what he hopes is a comforting tone.
"It's Sirius."
"What about him?" Remus nuzzles in closer, trying to comfort her, trying to do the things he's seen James do to her, the things James has done to Sirius.
"Nevermind."
Remus stays silent, but he doesn't nevermind.
Sirius and James snore lightly, in unison, in and out like the distant sound of surf. Remus and Lily listen. It takes a long, long time before they finally drift off too.
***
They apparate in the kitchen, James immediately falling from Dumbledore's arms into a heap on the floor. Remus and Lily run in from the living room, pale and slick with cold sweat. Lily immediately falls to James' side, tears blurring her make-up into grayish threads that run to her chin.
"I'll get a - I'll be back," Dumbledore says, vanishing with a thin pop and the faint smell of matches.
Sirius falls back and slams his head against the kitchen drawers. He can barely breathe from sobbing and Remus just stands there, stunned into inaction, looking down on the boys, fists balled with worry, barely holding back tears. Lily is working some strange magic, trying to stem the flow of blood from James' wounds, now glaring and wet and red once his jacket and shirt have been removed.
Dumbledore returns in less than a minute, appearing with a mediwizard in a furious white flash. It's only seconds before James is lifted and hoisted away to their bedroom, cures thrust upon him with wand waves and heavy muttering and thick vials of syrup and powder.
Lily sits at the kitchen table, worrying her hands, meshing her fingers and choking back tears. Remus, as awkward as ever, finally slides in next to Sirius and rests his head on his friend's shoulder. A silent symbol, wordless but worth more than any assurance.
They just have to wait.
***
Lily sits to the right of James' bed. Sirius sits to the left. Lily holds James' hand. Sirius drinks from a cup of water.
What time is it? No clocks in here, window shows it's dark, somewhere in that nameless time where reality becomes madness. Snow falls in lumps; lulling and lazy rather than childish and romantic as Sirius would normally think. The dark-haired boy worries the edge of a blanket absently, tugging out threads and making knots in the slim tails of fabric he frees. He's just about ready to jump out the window.
"You're a bastard, you know that," Lily says quietly for what feels like the hundredth time.
"I know I am." Sirius sounds dead.
"How fucking - I just don't fucking get you." Swear words always sound worse coming from the lips of girl. "Why would you even do it? You knew it wasn't safe - you knew he would go after you!"
Sirius' head lolls, daring sleep, and Lily's now constant berating come like a distant fuzz, white noise in a mind solely focused on the gentle huff of James' breaths. "I don't know why I did it."
"You must have some - you must know why you disregarded a direct order, Black."
"I wasn't thinking." God, how many times did they have to go over this?
"No kidding."
"I just needed to get out," Sirius repeats.
"You're a selfish, entitled bastard," Lily says.
"Yeah," Sirius agrees blankly.
"God, I don't fucking understand you." Lily kicks the foot of the bed impatiently. "I don't understand where you get off having everyone wait on you hand and foot. You've got the boys in this house wrapped around your little finger."
"I don't want them to be," Sirius says to his feet. "I didn't ask for it."
"That's right, you demanded it."
Sirius remains silent.
"And now you don't even know why," Lily continues. "Can't even give a good reason why James is the one on that bed and not you." She strokes a hand to her boy's cheek and sweeps James' hair from his forehead.
"I needed to get out," Sirius says sullenly.
"What?" Lily asks sharply.
"I needed to get out of this damn house."
"Oh, Christ, you selfish - and that's what made you run away? You were bored?"
"And I saw you and - and Remus."
Lily sighs, but it's more of a growl. "So, what, you're jealous of me?"
"No - no - it wasn't - I - just," Sirius stumbles along. "I needed to get away - from - from you."
"From me?"
Sirius nods.
Lily looks at him, standing somewhere between curiosity and mistrust. "What do you mean by that?"
"I - don't know. I just. I really don't know, I just knew I had to - to get away from you."
"Are you - are you serious?" She doesn't know what to make of it, what to make of this sweet-eyed, dirty-faced angel who seems to have taken Sirius' place; this boy who feigns innocence and shame when he's accused.
Sirius nods and says nothing, like a scolded child sitting in his chair, just a veil of black hair and a bundle of clothes, fingers teasing the edge of his cup, lips being bitten into blood.
"God, Black, what's your problem? You're always running away - from your family, from your problems. Stand up and face me, for God's sake. Why didn't you talk to me?" Lily's frustration is nearly tangible. "Grow up, my God. You've got friends who are willing to die for you but you want to throw all that away - because, what, Remus and James like me? You know, the second James figured out you'd left, he grabbed his jacket and chased after you. Didn't even think about bringing his wand. Left, just like that." She takes a deep breath, and looks to her fallen boy, still sleeping sweetly. "I don't even think he would do that for me."
Silence again, and Sirius plays his fingers in circles over James' limp palm, not trusting his voice to work just right now. He waits for Lily's cycle of anger to begin anew so he can just nod at her questions until her frustration builds up so much that she siphons it off by calling Sirius a cunt - which he is, God, he really is - it's just that he's getting tired of being told he is.
"You really do hate me, don't you?" Lily says, strangely quiet, not taking her eyes from James.
Sirius looks up. Purple-shadowed eyes, bloodshot; he still has dirt and blood smeared up against his cheek and his hair is a tangled mess. Gryffindor scarf is choked tight around his neck, and his hands tremble (cold or worry?) He's a disaster, pasty and white like he just spent a year underground. How strange, his copper skin gone pale, his lustrous hair gone coarse, and all from James, sleeping-James now, James who almost died but is okay thanks to quick thinking (definitely not on Sirius' part.)
"I don't hate you."
"You must. You certainly like torturing me enough."
"Whatever." Sirius doesn't have the energy to argue.
"I don't care if you like me or not, just leave James out of this," Lily says blankly.
"I didn't mean to get him hurt," Sirius says. "I didn't expect him to follow me."
"That's not what I meant," Lily says bitterly.
"What did you mean?"
Lily sighs. "I mean," she says slowly and deliberately, "he's wearing your clothes."
"He's wearing my -" and then it dawns on him. "Oh."
"If you can't handle seeing him - well, maybe you should stop it altogether. It would be better for - for everyone."
"Oh."
They're silent for a long time.
"I don't hate you."
Lily looks up, and it's her turn to look like shit. Cold sweat and worry don't do much for a lady's complexion; hair messed all around, sleep thick around her eyes (like dark bruises), her whole body seeming to sag in her seat. "What?"
"I don't hate you, I said."
"I got that much."
"Oh. Well. That's all, really. I don't hate you."
"You have a funny way of showing it," she says, looking everywhere but at him.
"We get along sometimes."
"Yeah, when you're with James. Or Remus. When you don't have to acknowledge my existence. When it's just us, that's another story."
"I never know what to say to you."
"So instead you ignore me and sleep with my -"
Sirius narrows his eyes. "Your what?"
"My - boy. Friend. Boyfriend." Her lips slide into a thin line, as if bracing herself against the word, like it's some prickly thing she has to hold between her teeth with great care. "With my boyfriend."
"Oh. Right." Sirius' lips sag, and he seems just so young now, just drained, sweet and innocent but broken to some degree, like he's just turned back the clock and he's listening to his mother again - blood traitor, worthless, unwanted - and he's eleven and just tired of it all. "Fine," he says, "whatever. You win. That's what you want, right? I won't touch James - I won't - do anything to him. He's yours. Take him" It's too late, too goddamn late and he's been through too much.
Lily looks at him, stares at him mostly. What did he say - that's what she wants? That is what she wants, isn't it? She wants Sirius to give up, to just be James' friend and leave him out of all of this, all of his games, his seductions. Right? She bites her lip. She wants that, right? She wants to think it is, wants to think that she wants to best Sirius, to take James as her own (he's not a possession, for God's sake, he's a person, a person she loves) but strangely, she still feels wronged, somehow. She looks up and she sees Sirius, just there, slumped in his seat, willing sleep or death or whatever it is he wants, and she feels compelled. Compelled to beat him up and compelled to kiss him. Compelled to heal him and compelled to break him all over again. Compelled to fuck him senseless and compelled to chop him into pieces. And was it all because of personal pride? Was it all jealousy? No. It's all to do with Sirius, goddamn Sirius, and seven years of contact but never really touching: "Why didn't you ever want me?"
"What?"
"You had Remus, and James, and Peter. But - but never me. I was - what, off-limits? Are you gay? Is that it?"
"No! No - I'm not gay."
"Then - why didn't you - why didn't you want me?" God help her if anyone hears her sound this pathetic, but it's just Sirius - and that's just it, isn't it? It's Sirius and somehow that makes this okay, almost normal, because it's Sirius. Yeah, God help her.
Sirius takes a deep breath. "Because - you were -" and he hates himself for saying this, but it's all he has to offer: "you."
"I was me?"
Sirius looks at his feet. "Lily, I couldn't do that to James."
Oh God. The wind and the snow scratch against the window and in that cold fluorescent light Lily understands now. Understands why Sirius kept his distance and just smiled and nodded when James was around. Why, when James wasn't around, Sirius would always pick a fight, or do something stupid, or offend her in some way. And she smiles for the stupidity of it, smiles for the sheer lunacy of everything, James almost dying and Sirius telling her this, and goddamn she was either going to laugh or cry or both. "You called me Lily."
"Yeah," Sirius says, looking up. "I did."
"So all the - glares at me, and the - coldness - you were actually just, you were in love -"
"Yes. Just. Don't even. I don't like that word," Sirius says, almost like he's depressed. "Can we just be - can we just be Lily and Sirius? I don't want to - mess anything up."
"Yeah, sure." She sounds a bit wistful, like she's not quite there (hands at her hair, twirling it around her finger, or else biting her fingernails.) "I just - I want you to know - I love you too -"
Sirius looks up and shakes his head tightly. She smiles and shuts up. They're quiet for a long time. Lily wants to reach out and touch him but doesn't really know how. It all makes sense now, but just as that question is answer, a whole new set perks up and it's all about the whys of their relationship now, as opposed to the why nots.
Lily brushes her hair back behind her ears. "You think one day we could ever get along?"
"I'd like to."
"You and your friends are crazy, have I ever told you that? You're all nutters - all of you. You most of all. You're pretty much mental. I just don't get it." She laughs, just barely, and it's pretty damn sweet.
"I don't get it either." He smiles, and for once it's kind of genuine.
A hard breath, and then that question, that damn floating question, the curse of youth: "Kiss me?"
Sirius nods, a little embarrassed, a little sweet.
"Does everyone in this house have to ask?" James mumbles, eyes blinking open. "You're all - all fucking wankers."
"James!" Lily and Sirius say in tangent, falling in on him like vultures on carrion, kissing his cheeks, trying to hug him while avoiding the bandages, just trying to touch him, feel that he's there, that he's alive, that he's theirs.
"Calm down, guys." His voice is limp, and tired. But it's there, and it's James.
"I'm so sorry, mate," Sirius nearly pleads, like he's reading the last rites, "I didn't mean to run - you didn't have to - and - God - me and Lily -"
"It's okay, Sirius," James says dismissively. "Don't worry 'bout it. Any of it. My own damn fault."
"God, James, I was so worried," Lily says, just barely holding in - what was it? Either a punch or tears, she looks ready to do both. "You're such a - you're insufferable and I love you." It's the first time she's said it out loud.
"I love you too," James says, feeling sleep crawl along him again, his fingers going pins-and-needles, his eyes drooping though his smile is firm. "Now, are you going to?"
"Going to what?" Lily asks, stroking his face gently.
"Kiss Sirius?"
"N-no, James - it was - it's not like that," she says, sounding different, some strange voice reaching through her and shaking her voice in a way that's definitely not Lily.
"I've kissed him. It's only fair if you do," James says, turning to look at Sirius. "Please? I'm on my deathbed - just, grant me this."
"No, you're not," Sirius says, that pleading tone still ripe in his voice. "James, you're going to be fine. Don't be so fucking dramatic."
"Kiss, please?" James insists.
Sirius looks to Lily, who shrugs a bit. They kiss, it's clean and sweet, more of a peck than anything else. Just gentle, like a cherry, a taste before it's gone and they part, looking to James as if asking, was that okay?
"You guys are boring. That wasn't a kiss. Are you related?"
Sirius says: "Are - are you serious?"
"No, you're Sirius," James says: old joke, familiar joke.
"Okay." Sirius swallows deeply and looks at Lily. It's hard not to be caught up in her, red hair and green eyes, skin like pastels and thin lips; it's not a stretch to imagine her as an actress, but it's also not much of a stretch to see her as a mother. "Lily?" She nods.
They kiss this time, they kiss like they're lovers and not like they're friends. They kiss like Sirius is James, or Lily is Remus. They kiss like they haven't fought, ever, and that they're the perfect - the perfect everything. Adam and Eve, Virginia and Vita, Laura and Petrarch, Shakespeare and his fair youth, Endymion and his moon, Gertrude and Alice. They're all the sonnets and all the love, and they pull it like a rabbit out of a hat, just out of nowhere; James couldn't ever have imagined Sirius kiss someone that way, seeing him so open, so emptied of everything but scraps; just this boy and just those lips.
"Yeah," James says, "see, it's fun."
"Go to sleep," Lily says, her cheeks filling with a blush. "You're sick, you know that?"
"You liked it," James says, slipping into that place between worlds.
"Shut up," Sirius adds in.
"Yep." James sighs. "I knew it."
*
"Si-ri-uuus!" James calls from upstairs, dragging the syllables into a kind of howl. Sirius wakes up, eyes fluttering quickly as he hears James call him again. Remus snuffles and snores a bit, head resting on Sirius' lap, rolling over in gentle sleep - always a deep sleeper. Sirius toys with his hair absently; lovely brown hair in a silly mess around his head, just a sweet halo of boyhood. He waits for the command: "Come upstairs, Pads!"
Sirius sighs and extricates himself from Remus, boy stretched along the couch and only shifting in dreams. James' calls are familiar by this point, Sirius having taken it upon himself to care for his boy as penance for the previous stupidity, but they're no less irritating. He probably just wants his bandage changed, or tea, or food, or something. Sirius sighs, gives Remus a silly forlorn look and treads dutifully up the stairs, shuffling to the bedroom door and poking his head in: empty.
"Jamie?" Sirius asks gently.
"Pads - in the bathroom."
Sirius rounds down the end of the hall and pushes open the bathroom door. A rush of steam breathes into his face, but Sirius is quick to catch on: lying together in the oversized Victorian claw-footed tub are James and Lily, each naked and pressed to opposite sides, knees rising from the water like little islands, their legs locked together like a zipper. They're flushed red from the heat, their faces and chests, and steam billows in clouds from the surface of the water as a thin film of bubble like sea foam breaks around their skin. Sirius looks at them curiously; intrigued, embarrassed, enamoured. They just look so - happy. Together, sweetly. What war?
"Hey Pads," James says, smiling a shit-eating grin. "Wanna join us?"
Sirius looks at them warily, closing the bathroom door and rush of cold air behind him. "What, in there?"
"It's comfy," James continues. "Very comfy."
"Come on," Lily says, turning to cross her arms over the ceramic lip of the tub. "We won't bite."
"Much," James says with a grin.
It's just the crazy kind of thing James would want to do, and just the kind of crazy game Sirius would invent. But Lily - is this, okay? Just her smile tells him it is, and he feels red blood course to his cheeks. Recklessness takes hold: "You know what? Sure."
Sirius tugs off his t-shirt and drops it to the floor, which is quickly joined by the clank of his belt and trousers and a pair of plaid blue boxers, which Sirius kicks off easily. He makes no move to cover himself; indeed, he seems to enjoy showing himself - dark wisp of hair around his cock, hands sliding up to touch his own nipples and slip around his ribs. He pads carefully over the wet tile floor and takes James and Lily's offered hands, stepping easily into the bath. The water is hot, very hot, and his skin prickles and glows red as he lowers himself in, but the momentary discomfort is fair pay for the sweetness of the place, the comfort of having his muscles loosen for the first time in, God, months. Sirius settles in the middle of the tub, sliding back so he's fully immersed and curling in diagonally towards James, wriggling his legs into the sweet tangle at the centre. The heat of the water grips around him like a blanket, and immediately thoughts of war and memos drift away, unanchored in this sea of hot.
"Agghh this is nice," Sirius moans. "I fully approve of this game."
Lily leans forward and kisses Sirius cheek, and lips, and eyelid, and forehead, sloppily and loosely, wet with spit and water. It's like she wants him to know: it's okay, we're okay, I want you here, don't worry. Marking her territory with heat-swollen lips and possessive hands under the water.
"I can see your boobies," Sirius says as she leans back to her position.
"Yeah," James says, cheerfully. "They're great."
Lily makes no move to cover them. "And I can see your cocks."
God, it's like being a kid again, and they all grin.
Time slithers onwards, and the three lie back, eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep, only rising occasionally to slip a hand through the water and touch a chest, or a stomach, slide gently along a cock, or ply against a waist. Just a sullen, recurring familiarity, little threads of contact drawing them inextricably together. They talk sometimes too, but it's always absent, always silly:
"You know," Sirius says through a haze, "Elizabeth Taylor became a Jew to marry Eddie Fisher."
"Mm?" James mumbles.
"I mean, how sweet is that?"
"But she left him, didn't she?"
Sirius moves impatiently and shifts to rest his chin on James' shoulder, sloshing the water around them in waves. "You're so unromantic." Lily watches with a smile; she slides her leg up and rubs it down Sirius' chest, pausing at his bellybutton and just gently drifting over his cock.
"Well, she had Richard Burton after, didn't she?"
"But she didn't become a Jew for him. He was just a boring old Welshman."
James chews absently on his lower lip. "She didn't become Welsh for him though, did she?"
"That's not the point, James," Lily adds.
"Yeah, Jamie," Sirius agrees. "The point is - would you become a Jew for me?"
James opens his eyes and rubs them with his good hand. "What?"
"Do you have a hearing problem or something?"
James sighs, knowing he's falling right into Sirius' trap. "Why would I become a Jew for you?"
"Why not?"
"Well, first of all, you're not even Jewish and, well, second of all - boys can't marry. I mean, we can marry, just - not each other. Not yet in any case."
"Who cares if I'm not a Jew, I'm asking if you would become one for me. What if I just wanted you to become a Jew?"
"Why would you want me to be a Jew?"
"Christ, James," Sirius says, shifting to bite James' shiny wet shoulder with irritation "never mind the why, I'm just asking if you would become one if I asked you to."
"No - why would I? I don't get the point of this."
"God," Sirius says, "there's not a romantic bone in your body."
"I would become Jewish for you, Sirius," Lily says gently, lulled pleasantly by the conversation.
"Mm, thank you, Lily," Sirius says with a smile. "At least someone understands my complexities."
Their talk drifts in circles, lazy hands swilling the water only to catch other hands and hold, or slip up skin and find tender places to pinch and tickle. They spill water a lot, and they refill it with their wands. It's strange, this moment, like a section divided from reality; this bathtub, floating on clouds and spilt water, nothing real. Sometimes Sirius gets bored and he rubs his hand over James cock, thrilled with the rise in his palm, but he doesn't finish and James doesn't mind; it's not really the time or place. Sometimes Sirius will shift and slide in closer to Lily, kiss her throat and move down to her breasts, face full in the hot water, emerging from it panting and red.
The conversation billows into lazy argument:
"Okay, okay," James says. "Here, answer this - King Crimson or Pink Floyd?"
"Pfft," Sirius sounds off, "no contest: King Crimson."
"No way," Lily counteracts. "Definitely Pink Floyd."
James laughs. "Fine then, Bob Dylan or Donovan?"
Sirius: "Dylan all the way."
"Come on, Sirius," Lily quips, "Donovan was doing his stuff way before Dylan. He practically taught Dylan."
"Lily, you can't compare - what, 'Hurdy Gurdy Man' with, like, 'Buckets of Rain.' No sane person could ever make that comparison."
"I can - I am. Donovan isn't as - he's not as talented, but at least Donovan didn't take everything he did so seriously." Lily leans forward and kisses James' knobby knees absently. "Donovan was the better entertainer."
Sirius laughs in disbelief: "The only thing Donovan ever inspired was - what, getting stoned? Dylan started a fucking revolution."
"Oh my God, I can't believe you just said that!" Lily says, leaning back and clapping a hand over her mouth. "That's so - Dylan just latched on to the civil rights movement, he didn't start it!"
"He was the voice of it!"
"The white voice, maybe," Lily retorts.
"Okay, kids, okay, calm down," James says, shifting gently toward Sirius, rubbing one hand over the slick wet of his chest, tweaking a nipple in curiosity. "How about - Jimi Hendrix or - or Frank Zappa?"
"Oh God, Jamie - how the fuck am I supposed to choose?"
"No, it's easy. Definitely Hendrix," Lily says off hand. "Jimi Hendrix did things to a guitar - things that people shouldn't be able to do."
"But Zappa - sure, Hendrix had some crazy solos, but Zappa changed the - changed the face of music. I mean, he did things, not just with a guitar, but with music - music itself. He changed rock music. Hendrix just changed the guitar." Sirius leans further back and closes his eyes. "Yeah, Zappa is better."
"Who cares if he changed music if he's unlistenable!" Lily says, nudging Sirius' thigh with her foot.
"Oh, God, that's an arrow through my heart - Lily, you're mad. Hendrix is great but - you can't compare."
James runs his hand over Sirius forehead and pushes his hair back, like he was stroking a family pet. "Okay, okay, here's the clincher: Bowie or T. Rex?"
Sirius looks at Lily warily. "T. Rex - let me guess, you're going to say -"
"Bowie."
"God! I knew it! You like shitty music!"
"Bowie isn't shitty music - he's a genius!"
Sirius rolls his eyes. "Oh good, a bloke can put on make-up and sing about spaceships. Just like James Joyce, that one."
Lily laughs: "And what, Marc Bolan didn't wear make-up?"
"Look at the music! 'Get It On' was a fucking anthem! And 'Children of the Revolution'! And what did Bowie give us? Major Tom. Take your protein pills, Lily: Bowie is shit."
"I can't believe you called James Joyce a genius -"
"Oh, don't even go there, Lily," Sirius growls. "I'll drown you right here, right now."
"All he did was ramble on about -"
Sirius throws his arms up, splashing the three of them as he did so: "It wasn't rambling! It was - was poetry!"
Just then: a creak. The stairs creak, and the three of them freeze. How strange the war can come in packages as small as a noise, just a sliver of disturbance; Lily has her wand in hand, and Sirius makes a move to step from the bath. In a moment they're ready to fight -
"What the -" Remus says calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. "What are you guys doing?"
War dissolves, once more, like a teaspoon of sugar in the hot water.
"Remus!" Sirius exclaims brightly, settling himself back in the bath. "We're relaxing. Mmmm."
"Man, Lily, they got you too?" Remus says, lips quirked to a smile.
"Yep," Lily says sweetly. "And you're next."
"Yeah!" James grins. "Remus. Strip. Now."
"Come on, I'm not getting in there," Remus says off-hand, though he closes the door behind him. "You're all - there's something wrong in your head. I thought we were fighting?"
"Nuh-uh," Sirius says. "We're bathing."
Lily stands up in the bath, as naked as Venus. Her hair is darker at the base of her neck, where it was slick in the water; the rest is dry and held high in a bun - how odd, the things you notice when a girl is naked. Her freckles glean just barely from the red of her skin. They stretch down like a peppered constellation, down her chest, to her thighs and waist. He follows the trail, about her breasts and to her hips. God, what a girl. She extends a hand, and Remus blushes deeply.
"Come on, Remus," she says. "You'll like it."
"There's no room," Remus says, feeling the last bastions of his defences collapsing.
"We'll make room," James says.
"You can sit on my lap," Sirius says with a laugh.
"But I don't want to - you guys are mad -"
"Mm, tant pis," Sirius says, giving Remus that look, that damned look that started their friendship, started their relationship, started everything good and bad in their short, short lives.
Remus falters. Lily is getting cold, and he can see the water drop from her like melting snow. It overwhelms him, like a wave; her red hair and Sirius and James pressed all against each other, wet and bright, like polished ivory. "Fine. Fine, I'll get in."
The girl, smiling, slips back in the water, and the three of them watch as Remus unbuttons his Oxford cotton shirt and lets it slip from his slim shoulders. "Could you guys at least - uh, not watch?" Remus says over his shoulder, having turned his back to them.
"Don't be a pansy," Sirius retorts. "We've seen you naked loads of times."
Remus sighs and swipes off his trousers and boxers in one movement, flicking off his socks as he does. He moves in awkward steps to the bath, one hand covering himself, the other gripping the edge of the tub warily.
"See, there's no room," he says impatiently.
"There's room!" Sirius quips. "You're just making excuses."
And like Moses, the legs part from the centre; Sirius shifts to one side, and Lily and James sidle off, leaving a perfect little space across from Sirius. Remus withers a bit, but he lets himself get dragged into the water, slipping into the gap as the legs come back into the mesh, two more knees joining them in the center. It's more than a little tight (it's fucking packed, like sardines) but that's all the sweeter; the knot of legs makes it hard to move, but every shift sees a foot brush against a thigh, or toes tickling up the leg of another; it's all bubbles and laughter. Remus leans in to Lily and finds her expecting hands, sliding easily own his stomach and over his thighs, resting there, just sometimes fluttering in the waves and the water.
After only a few minutes of settling in, she speaks:
"James?" A little seductively.
"Yeah?"
"Kiss Sirius."
"What? Why?"
Lily nudges his thigh with her foot, sloshing the water a bit. "I want to see it. I want to see what I was - missing."
"You're sick, you know that?" James complains with no real conviction.
"Please?"
James sighs. "Sirius?"
"Okay, sure," Sirius shrugs off.
Lily grins as James and Sirius lean forward to catch each other. Sirius is a bit more playful, and instead of trapping mouths, Sirius catches his friend's lip in a bite, tugging on it and compelling James (whimpering) to slide forward into him. Two hands - one each - slide up to touch cheeks, and they kiss, noses dripping with bathwater and wet caught between their mouths. They get stuck in it easily, and they find themselves blurring into each other, deepening their kiss and gripping harder and sliding sweetly. But soon the heat evaporates, like steam in the air, and they collapse back in their places with a quiet sigh.
"Happy?" James says, though not exactly annoyed.
"Nope."
"What?"
"Kiss Remus too."
James groans. "Why?" He knows he's already lost.
"It's only fair."
James closes his eyes and rubs them in exasperation, before: "Remus?"
"Uh, whatever. If you want." Remus shrugs. "I don't mind."
"C'mere," James says, leaning up and sliding a hand around the back of Remus' neck. They connect gently, and it takes a bit of suggestion from James before Remus parts his lips and lets their tongues dart and touch together. It's the polar opposite to the earlier kiss; they exchange Sirius' playfulness with intimacy, his passion with sweetness. They flit about, hummingbirds in battle, tongues dancing and mouth clasping and releasing, just fluttering over depth. They switch sides often, noses brushing in Eskimo, while their lips lock in something like harmony, sliding in wet, pushing and pulling in tandem. After just a half-minute, Remus breaks, leaning away from James who seems to peel off almost reluctantly.
"Phwoar," Sirius says, grinning.
"Wow," Lily adds.
"Yeah, wow," James says, putting a finger to his lips. "That was - wow. Remus, good on you."
Remus blushes and curls lower under the water, letting it creep up to his nose.
"Was that the first time you two've kissed?" Lily asks.
"Yeah," James says, rolling his shoulders back and slipping deeper in the water. "And not a bad start, I think." He closes his eyes and sighs in relaxation. "You happy now?"
Lily smiles. "No."
"What? Who's left?"
"Kiss me - if you still like girls, I mean."
James smiles and leans forward, kissing her loudly and wetly on the mouth. "I still like girls. I love you." Lily mouths it back, grabbing his hand under the water.
"Gaahhh," Sirius groans, sinking deeper into the bath. "You're so fucking lame, James."
"Sirius?" Remus says, a bit mischievously, his cheeks full red. "I love you."
"I love you too, honey sweetie," Sirius moans, leaning forward to kiss him in pecks on the nose. "My little Moony-face."
The four of them fall back and sigh, coiling deeper in the bath. Lily takes her wand from the bath-side table and stirs it about the water, which has gone warm; it immediately heats up, steam coming in clouds from the surface as the three boys shiver and moan, halfway between pleasure and pain.
Time drifts on in that way it has, Sirius occasionally leaning into kiss Lily, and Remus on the lips, James' jaw-line. Time condenses against the mirror, and the cold, iced windows. Time condenses in dew drops on their nose, on their eyebrows and along their eyelashes. Sometimes James, or else Sirius, will duck under the water and slick back their hair, tossing it to spray the friends with water - this leads, inevitably, to splashing, to laughing, to childishness.
And then they stop, and they talk.
And then they stop, and they drink from the wide bottle of wine.
And then they stop, and they kiss.
And then they stop, and they sigh; the four of them talking only in fragments before at last they fall asleep; their fingers pruning, the water cooling, the night going on, and on, and on.