Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Animal ❯ Animal ( One-Shot )

It's a week after the full moon, and Remus still hasn't spoken to Sirius. Not a word, and he's barely even looked at him, because he's still so angry. He's never been betrayed like this, and he wants to yell and scream and punch and really, really hurt Sirius, so maybe he will understand how Remus feels on the inside, except that he knows that that would prove he's a real monster.

So he's ignored him, and Sirius hates being ignored more than anything else.

It's no wonder, then, that tonight while Remus patrols, prefect badge gleaming in the torchlight, Sirius tracks him down.

He hears the quiet footsteps first, and he turns, ready to apprehend some student out after curfew, but there is nobody there. Remus' mouth sets into a grim line, and he turns again, back to his patrol.

The footsteps are closer now, following him, and they're almost echoes of his own, except Remus knows these corridors well, and they don't echo quite like that. They're just behind him when he hears, “Hey! Remus!” in a whisper he knows better than the corridors. He pretends not to hear it; he won't play this game, not ever again.

“Hey!” Sirius whispers again, right on his tail. “Come on, Remus, you can't ignore me forever!” But Remus thinks he can and keeps walking.

It's when he's walking past one of the armored statues that he feels the shove. He's pushed against the wall and a weight follows, warm and heavy against him. Then there's a disorienting moment as Sirius pulls the cloak around Remus.

Sirius' body heat is almost stifling under the cloak, and Remus glares up into luminous gray eyes and says nothing.

“Come on, Remus, you can't still be angry about all that...?” But Sirius has a nervous smile that says he knows Remus can be and certainly is. “Oh, please, just say something.” There is pumpkin juice and chocolate cake on Sirius' breath, lending him an innocence Remus knows he doesn't deserve. Remus won't give him what he wants. He looks away so Sirius won't see the hurt underlying all his anger, his jaw clenching as he turns his head.

Sirius ducks his head and tries to catch Remus' eye, but Remus manages to avoid him every time. “Look, we just wanted to scare him, see if we could make ol' Snivelly piss himself with fright. I didn't think it— I just didn't think, alright?” Sirius tries to catch his eye again, and Remus turns his head the other way.

Sirius sighs, but he is as stubborn as Remus, if not more so. He presses onward. “Listen, I'm sorry. It was stupid. I'm stupid. I'm a git, and I don't deserve to be forgiven, but I'm asking for it anyway.” When Remus still says nothing, Sirius breathes out his frustration in a laugh. “Remus, nobody's going to find out. It was just stupid old Snivellus—”

“Stupid old Snivellus who knows and who'll tell everybody and who you almost had me kill,” Remus hisses, because he can't hold this back any more. He finally looks up, eyes meeting Sirius' as they flash their anger.

Sirius sucks an audible breath in through his teeth, unsure, though it is clear that getting Remus to talk was some small victory. “Dumbledore told him not to tell anybody. And nobody will believe him, anyway; it's not like he has any friends.” But Sirius sounds pathetic, almost whining, because Remus is angry and nobody has ever really seen Remus angry.

“That's not the point, Sirius. You put me in danger, too! What if I had—”

“You didn't, though! You didn't, and everything's okay now, and I told you that I'm sorry. What else do you want me to say?” Sirius is pleading now, and it's almost enough that he wants to be forgiven, and Remus hates that about himself, hates that he'll forgive anybody anything if they just promise to like him.

But he isn't finished with this, not yet. Sirius hasn't heard enough. “Everything's not okay, though. All Snape has to do is make one person listen, and I'm through. Don't you understand that? I've never hurt anybody in my life, and I've been so careful, but your stupid mistake could have me put down like some animal!”

Sirius is whispering, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry” like he's counting his rosary, but Remus presses him back, turns them around to shove Sirius against the wall now, and he keeps talking. “It won't count as a prank if he tells anyone. It's attempted murder, and James might be the only one who gets off light. Maybe. Is scaring the piss out of Snape really worth ruining all our lives?”

For a moment, the only sound is Sirius' dry-sobbed apologies. Then Remus hears it: heavy-booted footsteps and the jingling of keys. He clamps a hand tight over Sirius' mouth and squeezes them both tighter against the wall. “Shut up,” he growls. “Filch is coming.”

Sirius' eyes are wide and gleaming, but he stills, quiet except for his trembling breaths. The boys stay that way, breathing together as silently as they can, while the footsteps come closer. They stop just behind Remus, and he holds his breath, watching Sirius' eyes as though he can see what the other boy sees that way. He can almost feel Mrs. Norris' lamplike eyes on them, and the skin at the back of his neck prickles.

Filch mutters something under his breath, and the footsteps start again, continuing down the hall. Remus lets out a wavering breath, and Sirius shakes his head. When Remus dares a peek back over his own shoulder, Mrs. Norris is still sitting there, eyes fixed unerringly on them. She mews, and they hear Filch call her, his voice echoing eerily down the corridor. She looks at them a moment longer, then pads silently off to her master.

It is a few moments more before either boy dares to breathe again, and Remus feels the burn in his lungs as he shakily exhales. Finally, he pulls his hand away from Sirius' mouth, and he tries to move, his ire failing with his fear, but Sirius' arm is around his waist, one hand uncomfortably hot on his hip. “Sirius,” he whispers, but that is all he can think to say.

“Remus, please let me… I want to…” but Sirius sounds like he's choking on his own words, and Remus becomes aware of a number of things that were already there. Sirius' hair smells like shampoo and clean sweat, and he is too, too warm, and there is something pressing into Remus' hip. Sirius' head comes down, lips slack and wet, and Remus turns his head once again, though he doesn't move away.

Sirius makes a noise and presses the kiss to Remus' neck instead, and then he's sliding to the floor while Remus braces his hands against the grime of the wall. Sirius pushes his robes up and stares up at him, and Remus has to look away, feeling himself flush. This isn't the direction this encounter was meant to take, but when he feels his underwear being pulled down, feels Sirius' too-hot hand wrap around him, he cannot deny him, and he is slowly coaxed to hardness.

Then that mouth is sliding over the head, and his lungs empty themselves in a rush. He tries to protest, because this isn't right, this isn't what he really wants. He doesn't want to forgive him, but Sirius has always been so convincing. It shouldn't be that way this time, because this is different, but then the wet, rough silk scrape of a tongue traces up the thickest pulsing vein of his cock, and for a moment he loses all notions of what is right and wrong and forgets why he should be angry and focuses only on the wet heat that sucks his cock down.

His forehead is slick against the back of his hand when he hunches forward, and he reaches down with the intention of pulling Sirius' mouth away. Instead, his hand tangles in coarse black hair.

Remus is an animal, worn down to his most basic instincts. It's just a mouth, just his cock; he should be able to fight it, but this is Sirius, who embodies primal, unleashed passion in everything he does and who drags everyone into it with him. Even Remus, who has fought it with every ounce of his strength; it seems he isn't strong enough to win this time.

He opens his eyes to see Sirius worshiping his cock, mouth sliding up and down, lips sealed tight and cheeks caving in, tongue pressed flat along the underside until he reaches the head. He pulls his mouth away for a moment, gaze flickering up to see Remus, and there is a line of saliva dangling between Remus' cock and his mouth, unbroken until he parts his lips to take Remus down again.

He sees Sirius' other hand working inside Sirius' own robes, and he gasps, thrusting once inside that mouth. “D-don't,” he whispers, because he doesn't want to share this, not any more than he already is. Sirius doesn't ask, and his hand moves away to grip his own thigh, fingers sticky and knuckles whitening at the tension.

It's so hot under the cloak, and the whole thing reeks of sex, and Remus can't quite breathe. He's forcing it now, pushing his cock farther into that mouth. He presses hard until he feels Sirius opening up, sliding him down into that tight throat. He feels Sirius' hand move to his balls, thumb stroking as his fingertips seek farther back. Remus shuts his eyes, shuts out the sight of Sirius, and he comes.

When it's over, he slides down next to Sirius, who is panting and flushed and still wanting. Sirius gathers him close, close enough to feel Sirius' hard prick pressing against him, and Remus pushes him away weakly.

“Forgiven?” Sirius asks quietly, and Remus can smell the sex on his breath - he doesn't smell so innocent now, smells like he should, like sin.

“No,” Remus whispers, and Sirius sits back in silence.

They sit against the wall together, not touching, and for the first time since he's known Sirius - and James, and Peter - Remus lets someone see how weak he really is.