Fallen (Alternate Version)

Dedicated to evil vampires everywhere


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Fallen

(Alternate Version)

Firelight bathed the Gryffindor common room, falling warmly on well-worn leather chairs, pooling on low tables, and painting groups of students in buttery light. The buzz of conversation mixed with snapping and popping sounds from the great stone fireplace.

Remus Lupin squirmed as a shadow fell across his essay on the use of dragon's blood in healing potions. The essay wasn't going well, either in the dark or in the firelight.

"Hey, d'you mind moving?" he groused, squinting down at the parchment. The shadow did not take itself away. "What's the--"  He looked up to see a wide grin on the face of Sirius Black, one of his best friends.

"Come on, Remus. You've worked long enough for one day. You need to take a break, have some fun."  Three-quarters of Sirius' face lurked in shadow, leaving a brilliant streak of gold defining the outlines of his cheek and jaw. Firelight set off a halo around the jet black hair. Remus grinned. A halo was the last thing anyone would expect to find over the head of Sirius Black.

"What I need to do is finish this Potions essay. You're good at Potions, so I suppose yours is already done."

"I'll help you finish it tomorrow morning before class." The outline of his jaw twitched in the firelight. Lowering his voice, not taking his bright, dark eyes away, he said, "I need your help with something."

Remus laid down his quill and searched his friend's face quizzically.

"I'll explain when we're outside," Sirius murmured, his hand lightly slapping his hip with excitement or perhaps nervousness. "You'll see."

"I suppose," Remus replied as he stood up and stretched, "that I'm not likely to finish anything tonight," Sirius turned toward the portrait hole, the only exit from the common room to the castle at large.

"And where are you two going?" piped a voice from a corner of the common room belonging to a boy with an unruly shock of black hair. He was studying a large volume with the girl seated next to him, a pretty girl whose dark red hair glinted gold in the firelight. She looked at Remus and Sirius with a mixture of amusement and warmth.

"Remus has got to help me with something, James," replied Sirius, and he draped a proprietary hand over Remus’ shoulder.  "If that's all right with the Head Boy...and Head Girl." He nodded toward the girl, his eyes resting solemnly on her face for a moment.

Her laughter broke the silence among them and she said merrily, "Since when do you need my permission, Sirius? You always do exactly what you want, no matter what anyone says."

She kept her tone light, but she knew more than she let on about the escapades of James and his friends. Sirius stared at her for a moment, then at James.  "We'll be off, then. Don't wait up, Lily."

As they turned back to the exit, the portrait swung open and a smaller boy came barreling into the common room. He had light brown hair and small dark eyes, which looked up at both boys beseechingly.

"S-sirius. Where are you--can I go with you?" stuttered the boy, but broke off uncertainly at the reproachful look on Sirius' face.

"Remus and I have got some work to do," he whispered coldly, "You'd just be in the way."

A look of defiance blossomed momentarily on the boy's face, and then withered. "Okay. Sure. I understand." The boy looked down at his feet.

Sirius slipped out through the portrait hole, but Remus lingered to speak to the smaller boy in a more kindly tone.  "Some other time. Good-night, Peter."

When Remus emerged into the corridor and swung the portrait shut, Sirius had vanished, but that didn’t appear to trouble him. Down the nearest set of stairs to the third floor, along a corridor to a tapestry, behind the tapestry to another set of stairs up to the fourth floor and a deserted classroom, he made his way unhurriedly, looking for all the world as if he were composing an essay in his head on the way to the library instead of ambling toward what would certainly turn out to involve little study.

Inside the classroom he found Sirius, who had taken off his school robes and was studying a square of parchment spread out on a table. He looked up at the soft scuffle of Remus' feet coming through the doorway.

"Filch's cat," he said tensely. "That mangy thing likes to stare at itself in the mirror for hours."

Remus moved next to Sirius and looked at the parchment, a map that showed the location and movements of all the inhabitants inside Hogwarts Castle, as well as all the secret passages out of the castle. He, Sirius, James, and Peter had spent two years creating the Marauder's Map, as they called it. Sirius was the one who’d hit upon the idea of making their very own castle directory, although James had worked out the spell. It hadn't been easy; finding all the secret passages had cost them at least one detention each.

Even though they were all familiar with the castle after six years at school, the map proved very handy for avoiding detection, particularly when heading out of the castle through one of the hidden passageways. Tonight's destination, a mirror located around the corner from the classroom, was currently being guarded by the cat belonging to Mr. Filch, the Hogwarts' caretaker. No ordinary cat, this particular feline had sharp eyes and ears, always on the look out for students who were acting suspiciously. If they were spotted, Filch would know about this passage; they’d lost the use of one last year through carelessness and they didn’t want to lose another.

"I think you were a little hard on Peter just now," Remus remarked.

Sirius did not appear to have noticed, concentrating on the map instead.

"He's a little annoying sometimes, I know, but he's a good friend in his own way." Remus paused. "Remember the time you got caught and tied up by a Muggle who thought you were a stray dog and Peter sneaked into his yard and gnawed through the rope?"

Sirius looked up and grunted in assent. "Possibly the bravest thing he's ever done. But, you must admit, sometimes he gets in the way ...and he's a disaster around the Shadow."

"Is that what you want my help with?"

"Yes," replied Sirius vaguely, drumming on the map impatiently with his fingers. "I want to get her flying tonight."

A question formed on Remus' lips, but was interrupted by a sharp "Aha!" from Sirius.

"Finally," he crowed in triumph, and then tapped the map with his wand to wipe it clean. "Take off your school robes and let's go before someone else shows up," he said and handed Remus a sweater that he’d brought for their foray out of the castle.

Around the corner in an otherwise empty corridor stood a large mirror on the wall, nearly eight feet high and flanked by two heavy silver candlesticks. Flames from the candles winked at them and danced in the air as they approached.

The two boys--tall enough almost to be men--stood side by side, reflected in the mirror: Sirius, the taller of the two, dressed in his usual garb for sneaking out of school--jeans, black t-shirt, and black leather jacket--and Remus, half a head shorter, wearing a nondescript gray shirt and jeans, still carrying the sweater.

"Moony, will you do the honors?" Sirius flashed a grin at his friend's reflection.

"Certainly, Padfoot," Remus replied as he raised his wand, crying softly, "Canales Corpus."

The candles flared briefly and their images vanished as the surface of the mirror turned a dull, inky black, so dark that it seemed to absorb instead of reflect light. Sirius strode to the mirror and was swallowed by the darkness.  Remus followed his friend through, leaving nothing but a slight flickering of the candles to mark their passage.

* * * * *

The village of Hogsmeade was in easy reach of several of the tunnels that ran underground from the castle, which was frightfully convenient for students who had minds bent on mischief.  The particular tunnel that Remus and Sirius had used was in just the right place for tonight's mischief.  The boys emerged into the night through the doors of a root cellar under the Three Broomsticks, the village pub. 

Squares of bright light from the pub's windows splashed the ground at their feet. Skirting the lights, they made their way to a seldom-used stable located a few hundred yards behind the main building and well out of notice from the village. Here Sirius kept his current obsession, the one which had not gotten him into trouble yet, although his friends thought it only a matter of time.

"Lumos," Sirius murmured when they entered the stable.  A blue glow shone from the tip of his wand, giving Remus enough light to find the door. After taking out his own wand, he tapped the door in several places to release the binding spell. As the door swung open, Sirius brushed past him, his feet making soft scuffles on the wooden floor, and began lighting lanterns inside the former stable. 

The light glinted off ancient, disused harnesses and halters that hung on the rough wood plank walls.  In the room's center, a long, low shape lay shrouded under a black cloth. Remus tapped it with his wand, intoning "Non Capsicum" to release the spell that protected the object of Sirius’ affection.  Remus was particularly proud of this charm.  Those who attempted to lift the cloth whilst the spell was in effect would find themselves itching and burning for hours.

Sirius tugged the cloth impatiently, sending it flying momentarily until it settled with a soft sigh on the floor. An enormous motorcycle lay underneath, entirely black from wheel to seat to leather saddlebags at the rear. The huge front wheel pushed forward like the paws of a beast; the once-shiny chrome had been turned a gleaming black that glowed in the lantern light. It always made Remus think of a monstrous black panther, crouching and poised to strike.

The motorcycle--a Vincent Black Shadow it was called--had turned up at the start of term. Sirius was uncharacteristically vague about how he came by it, saying only that he got it from a Muggle who didn't reckon he would need it anymore. My Shadow, he lovingly called it.

After talking the owner of the pub into letting him use the stable to store the motorcycle, Sirius set to work making it fly. At the start, they’d all worked on the flying enchantment--James and Sirius being the best at that sort of charm--and had made it fly several times so far, but not reliably.

Sirius spent most of his free nights tinkering with it, often alone. James increasingly preferred to spend his time with Lily; Peter had been forbidden from coming back after he’d accidentally drained all the oil from the engine. Sirius’ wrath was not entirely unjustified:  Peter usually made a mess of things, nervously dropping tools and scratching the chrome or losing vital parts. Remus was tolerated and tried to be helpful, although he was not as familiar with Muggle machines as Sirius nor did he care as much about flying.

"She's been acting up, but I think I know the problem," Sirius said excitedly as he began to loosen bolts with a spanner. "She's definitely going to fly tonight."

"I don't think I'll ever understand your fascination with this motorbike."

"A Vincent Black Shadow is no mere motorbike," he retorted in mock indignation. A sly look came over Sirius' face. "Girls like it."

"Yeah, well, you don't have any trouble attracting girls, even without a motorbike."

"Maggie likes it. I've taken her flying a couple of times."

Remus looked sharply at Sirius, now bending his head over the engine to tighten a bolt. He detected an odd note in his friend's voice, one he had never heard before.

"Maggie from the Three Broomsticks?" he asked, inclining his head toward the main building.

"Yeah," Sirius replied lifting his head and meeting Remus' eyes. "She gets off work at ten. Sometimes she stops by to...see how I'm doing." The spanner dropped on the worn wooden floor with a sudden thud that made Remus jump. Sirius wiped his hands with a rag and, without taking his eyes from his friend, said quietly, "She's a lot of fun."

"What...do you mean?" Remus asked slowly, as color flared suddenly in his cheeks.

Sirius grinned broadly in response to the ruddy bewilderment on his friend's face.

"You don't mean to say that you--" he stammered," that she--"

"Oh, come on, Remus. Don't give me that look of yours!" Sirius threw down the rag crossly. "You don't expect me to be saving myself, do you? Like James?"

"No.  Not at all,” he answered, tripping over his words and shaking his head.  “I don’t mean that you should--that is, you’re free to do what you like.”

"Damn right," Sirius laughed. "And what about you?  Come on, it would do you good to have a bit of fun once in a while, get out and..."  He started to say something more, but stopped himself and bent down to pick up the spanner.

"Let's clean up a bit," he said in a more businesslike tone as he stood. "The girls will be here soon."

"Girls?"

"Maggie and her cousin, up from London. I promised to take them flying."

"You don't need me for that. I should go," Remus said weakly, looking toward the door, but unable to get his legs to move.

Sirius scowled at him. "Go? I thought you might like to stick around and go for a ride, too." His face softened as he said, "Come on, Moony, you keep to yourself too much as it is. Stay, please?"

Any hope of Remus making an escape vanished as they heard laughter and high-pitched voices down the passageway. A swirl of pink skin, colorful silks, and gold jewelry accompanied by giggles entered the room in the form of two girls.

Remus glanced quickly away as if he could still escape, if only he did not look. When he turned to face them, Sirius had his arm around the waist of a dark-eyed girl with wild black hair who looked like a gypsy, come to steal his friend away. 

"Nice to see you," she said slyly and nodded at the other girl, "This here's Tish. Up from the city, she is. Come to see the country."

The other girl regarded him coolly with green eyes that caught and held him fast.  After a moment she smiled. He knew plenty of girls from school, but none of them ever looked like this or smiled at him like this.

"Hello," he managed to say as he clutched the handlebars for support and swayed unsteadily on his feet.

* * * * *

The girls screamed, then exploded with laughter as the motorcycle flew low over their heads and pulled up sharply. Both clutched Remus for support and giggled as they watched Sirius land a few feet away. He had already given them rides, but couldn't resist finishing with some solo acrobatics.

"Oooooh," Maggie squealed as she ran toward the bike, throwing herself at Sirius as he got off. "What a fright you gave me!"

"Yer friend's brave," Tish said, her hands still clutching Remus' arm, "I never been so scared as I was up on that bike."

"Yeah. He's not afraid of anything," Remus said softly, disapproval mingling with admiration in his voice. Recollecting himself, he broke free from her grip and said, "I guess we should put the motorbike away."

Since Sirius did not seem inclined to do much about it, Remus wrestled with the kickstand and handlebars and began pushing the motorcycle down the hill, through the stand of trees that lay behind the stable. Tish walked beside him, while she continued to chatter. Behind them he heard Sirius' sharp laughter mingle with Maggie's soft voice, the words indistinct.

When he reached the stable, he was sweating and out of breath. He forced the motorcycle through the narrow opening of the room and picked up the black cloth, unfurling it with a sharp snap. Silently, it drifted down over the motorcycle like the shadow of a huge bird descending to earth.

Tish stood watching him, her arms folded and one hip and shoulder resting against the doorway. Remus swore softly to himself as the cloth became entangled in the mirrors on the handlebars.

"It's late," he said as he tugged at the cloth, trying to work out the tangle. "We should be getting back to the castle."

She crossed to the other side of the motorcycle and began smoothing the cloth over the seat. "Maggie tol' me you go to school up there at that castle." She leaned over the seat, propping herself on her elbows, and looked up at him. "You 'n him must know an awful lot of spells."

"There's a lot to learn," Remus said.  He avoided her gaze as he stooped down to pull the cloth over the front wheel.  “I mean, they keep us pretty busy and that’s why we have to get back to study because it’s getting late,” he finished, mumbling into the floor.  He had trouble catching his breath.  In the close air of the room, her perfume was suddenly everywhere, masking the odors of sooty lanterns and engine grease that usually ruled supreme in the Shadow’s den.

"They din' teach us nothing in school," she drawled. "Jus' a few old spells for this 'n that. Enough to get in trouble, my dad says." She moved around the motorcycle as she said this, until she stood over him and leaned back against the seat. "Of course, my Aunt Roz, Maggie's mum, she says I have the Sight, says I read tea leaves better'n anyone. Shall I tell yer fortune, then?"

"Huh?" He had not been listening closely, but now straightened up to find her standing not two feet away.

"Yer better lookin' than Maggie tol' me," she said as she lifted herself up onto the seat, her skirt gliding smoothly over her legs as if it had a mind of its own. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

"Don'cha want to kiss me?" she said playfully, her green eyes shining with amusement and something more.

He wanted to run, but instead he moved toward her like a child's toy pulled on a string. She seemed to know spells they didn't teach in his school.

She touched his cheek with one hand.  His face flushed painfully, and then she was drawing him closer. When their lips met, he thought he could break away, but that plan went up in smoke the instant that she took his hands and guided them to her waist, pulling him nearer still.  Instead of running, he responded by raking his hands roughly across her back and growling as he buried his face in her neck.

“Oh, you’re a wild one,” she murmured.

* * * * *

"You awake?"  The muffled voice came through thick velvet hangings drawn tightly around the bed.

Sirius drew back the heavy curtains.  Candlelight fell on the tangled mess of bedclothes like the sun ushering in a new day.   Remus was hunched on his side, facing away from the light.

"Remus, are you all right?"

The bed creaked as Sirius climbed inside and settled heavily on the far end.   The curtains closed and night came again to the country of sheets and pillows.

"You disappeared without saying a word," he began haltingly, "and Tish seemed a bit rattled, but I couldn’t tell if she was just putting on an act.  She didn’t bite, did she?" He paused and then continued with a weak laugh, "Did you bite her?"

Remus turned over and stared up at the hangings overhead, dark folds of cloth that blocked most of the candlelight from the dormitory and the light of the waxing moon from the window.

"Hey, Moony, are you okay?" Sirius asked as he crawled to Remus’ side.

Remus sat up and drew his knees to his chin, hugging them tightly.  “Go away, will you?  It’s too late for…for any of this.”

“I covered for you though,” Sirius continued in a more breezy manner.  “I told her you had to study for a big test.  Nerves and all that.”

“You did what?” Remus eyed him severely.  “Oh, fine.  You can make up all the stories you like.  I never asked you to--I didn’t want to…meet this girl, this cousin of Maggie’s.”

“Aw, Moony,” Sirius began as he inched closer.  There was a faint glimmer of reflected light from his eyes as he smiled.  “You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it…just a bit, eh?”

‘I’ve had enough.  Now get out,” Remus answered, and gave Sirius a shove, as if that ended the discussion.

Sirius wasn’t going without a fight.  He shifted his weight, grabbed Remus’ shoulder and shoved back.  Remus, too surprised to struggle, ended up flat on his back, his shoulders pinned to the bed.  Sirius had one knee thrown over his chest for good measure.

“Will you listen?” he whispered, his breath coming hard between clenched teeth.

Remus looked up.  The face that hung over him was all but invisible, the expression unreadable.  Warm breath tickled his cheek.  Smells of grease and sweat and a woman’s perfume overwhelmed him no less than the ninety-odd kilos of Sirius Black squatting on his chest.

“Okay.  Okay.  I’ll listen,” he answered.  “Will you get off first?”

Sirius withdrew, but he kept his eyes fixed on Remus’ nightshirt, ghostly pale against the dark headboard, as its owner sat back, gathering the sheet around his knees. 

“Yes, well, I--“ Sirius began, but the dark, cold silence robbed him of words.  After a long, uncomfortable minute, during which he made a place for himself beside Remus, he murmured softly and waved one hand over the other, palms flat.  A fuzzy blue ball of fire sprang to life above his outstretched hand; its soft glow brought to life the grim, tight-lipped face of his friend, all angles and shadows, and the hard eyes that reflected the light coldly.

“Hey, you didn’t get on with the girl,” he ventured.  “You shouldn’t feel so bad.  She’s a bit…wild; a real dragon, that’s what Maggie says.”  His words skittered to a stop.  He waited.

Remus gave no sign that he’d heard.  Instead he stared down, drawing his legs up close to his chest. The vacuum between them was as vast as the gulf between two galaxies in interstellar space. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, okay?”  Sirius burst out like an unruly star gone nova.  “She wasn’t the girl for you, but the world’s full of--“

“Don’t,” Remus lifted his eyes and held Sirius’ gaze but only for an instant.  In the next, he ducked his head down and wrapped his arms tightly around his knees.

“Aw, dragon’s balls,” Sirius snapped.  “What happened?  Something happened, right?  You can tell me.  Just us boys here.”

Remus drew further back and, the pillows having fled for more tranquil pastures, he pushed up against the hard wooden headboard.  His body was shrinking, collapsing in on itself.  And instead of making him easier to see, the enchanted ball of fire shrouded him in bluish-purple shadows that called attention to all that was hidden and secret.

“I’m still your friend, Moony,” Sirius persisted.  “I’ve stuck with you through the all the werewolf business--“

“I’m the werewolf, though,” Remus mumbled into his knees.  “It’s not something I can forget or…put by with the flick of a wand.”

“So?  I don’t see your point.”

“Oh, never mind.  You wouldn’t get it anyway.”

Neither spoke for a while.  Sirius shifted his weight restlessly, several times bumping into the unresponsive lump of his friend, and moved the light so as to peer at the side of Remus’ face, which was turned away from him.

“What is this, an interrogation?”  Remus tore his gaze away from the dark velvet hangings and toward the relatively bright ball of fire.  His eyes grew pale as the pupils contracted to hard points.

Sirius put out the light with an exaggerated flourish of his wrist.  Silence and darkness returned.  In the little world inside the hangings, there was nothing to see and every rustle of the sheets was a bit too loud.  Gradually, their eyes became accustomed and each could see the outlines of the other’s face emerging from the inky soup.  Both boys remembered to breathe, suddenly and noisily.

“Try me,” challenged Sirius.

“What?”

“You said I wouldn’t get it,” he went on earnestly, and laid a tentative hand on his friend’s wrist, which was as taut as whipcord.  “But, try me.”

“You weren’t far off the mark with your first guess,” Remus answered in clipped syllables that mirrored the tension evident in his rigid arms and legs.

“So you did bite her.”  Although his tone was light, Sirius tightened his grip as if afraid he’d lose him, but Remus didn’t attempt to get away.

 “Oh, I wanted to, all right.  But, there was more, Sirius.  It was there, too.  I could feel it.”  He shook off Sirius’ hand.  The atmosphere in the bed was so thick and heavy that his rapid breathing ripped through it and shredded the air itself into ragged tatters.

“The wolf?  Is that possible?”  Sirius crawled around so that he kneeled before Remus.  He wanted very much to see into the familiar face that was barricaded behind scrunched up knees and shrouded in shadow.

“I don’t know. I just know what it felt like…”  Remus shifted uncomfortably.  “What’s wrong with me, that I-- Oh, is this going to happen again?” he moaned and cradled his head in his hands.

“My fault, Moony,” Sirius said quickly.  “I threw you into a dragon’s lair, didn’t I?  And you’ve got to walk before you can run.”

Remus shook his head, and then held his body rigid.  There was a struggle going on inside, which Sirius could only watch like a child whose parents fight behind closed doors.  The room was locked and Sirius didn’t have a key.

“Hey, I’m your friend,” he whispered, and laid his hands on Remus’ knee.  “And friends have to…help…teach…oh, hell!  Why does it have to be so damned complicated?”

There was no response from Remus, nor could Sirius catch sight of his face, which remained buried in his hands.

 “Do you remember Willaston?” he said after a long pause in a voice that was tighter, more controlled, than usual.

“From the Quidditch team?”  Remus looked up, puzzled.  “Captain during our fifth year, you mean.”

“Yes.  I probably would have been kicked off the team that year, if it hadn’t been for him.  Remember?  He took me under his wing, in a way.” Sirius continued in an uncharacteristically precise manner, “And, he taught me… a lot.”

“Does everything come back to Quidditch?”  Remus sighed and shook his head.

“Almost everything,” Sirius laughed quietly, and then went on in a faster, more insistent voice, “Willaston, he…gave me a gift, only I just now realized that’s what it was.  At the time, I thought--oh, it doesn’t matter what I thought.  What I mean to say is that I’ve hurt you and I should have realized sooner what a stupid idiot I was.  I don’t know why I didn’t see this before.  Um, you’ve got to walk before you can run and...”

“So you’ve said,” Remus answered slowly, as if trying to work through Sirius’ last speech word for word.  “But if you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”

“I want to show you something,”

“What?”  Remus frowned and concentrated on the face of his friend.  His eyes, now adapted to the darkness, could make out the features, but the expression on Sirius’ face left him baffled.

“This,” Sirius whispered, and moved closer, his chin almost touching the barrier of Remus’ knees.  He gathered up a wad of the sheet in one hand and roughly drew it aside. 

“This,” he repeated more insistently as his hands traveled along the bare skin of Remus’ thighs and gently spread his legs apart.  He was sure and deliberate, without taking his eyes away from his friend’s face, which was awash in astonishment.  

Remus stared back, but didn’t speak.  His hands hovered over his Sirius’ long, slow caress as if his brain had forgotten to tell the twitching fingers what to do next.  He seemed incapable of stopping the tide that was coming in.

“This has nothing to do with Quidditch,” Sirius said, as he sent his hands traveling up under Remus’ nightshirt, exploring new territory of skin and fine hair and nipples.  He was breathing faster and it pleased him to hear that his friend’s breathing sped up, too. 

“What are--oh, why are you doing this?”  Remus whispered haltingly as he struggled to overcome the pounding that filled his ears and rippled through his body, concentrating in the obvious place.

Sirius grinned as he felt Remus respond through several layers of cloth that he intended to remove as soon as possible.  His hands circled the hips in broad strokes.  Then he concentrated on toying with the waistband of Remus’ pants where his fingers darted in and out, pushing a little deeper each time.

“It’s become quite obvious to me, Moony,” replied Sirius, rolling the last word on his tongue playfully, “that you need someone to shag your brains out.” 

“Volunteering, are you?”  Remus tried to sound conversational, but he was having trouble breathing.  Panting was more like it.  In fact, words were fleeing his brain like chickens scattering before a fox.  Or a wolf.

“Mmmmm.  There’s something in it for me, too.” Sirius planted his mouth on the parted lips, marking territory with a rough kiss.

The kiss went on for quite a while.  Remus struggled, no longer wanting to flee.  Thoughts of escape were swept away, replaced by a raw need to dominate that burst within him like the booming of a gong struck hard for the first time ever.  His hands stroked Sirius’ back, clumsily at the start but then gaining in confidence:  probing, hunting, taking possession.   A low and insistent growl came from his throat and rumbled through both of them. 

Sirius pulled away slightly, though he still lay heavily on Remus.  He took pleasure in rubbing his friend’s erection through the thin fabric of his pants and nightshirt.  His own jeans were getting far too tight to stay on for long, he knew. 

“Where’s the wolf now?” he laughed as he gulped a lungful of air like a swimmer come to the surface after deep water.  Black eyes looked up at him, with pupils engorged, and he grinned with the sudden knowledge that Remus could see every detail of his face.  Time to have some fun.  He rolled to the side and roughly plunged a hand into Remus’ pants, while he impatiently stripped them off with his other hand.

Remus gasped a mixture of surprise and pleasure as Sirius explored, his fingers probing, squeezing, and rubbing.  Words abandoned him and his vision contracted to a pinpoint of white-hot radiance.  He reached out blindly to touch Sirius, to find an anchor that could keep him from being swept away as wave upon wave pounded his body.  But he lacked the strength to hold on, so his hands slid feebly over Sirius’ t-shirt.  The pounding continued until he could no longer find himself, could no longer control his cries and shudders.

And, the cries were less human each time.

Sirius had the sudden thought that the noise would wake James in the next bed, so he fell upon Remus and kissed him again, but Remus would have none of his kiss.  He fought by sinking his fingers into Sirius’ shoulders, and then the two of them rolled over.  Sirius didn’t let go for an instant; he was a skilled Quidditch player who knew how to hang on to a broomhandle no matter what the circumstance.

With a suggestive growl, Remus lunged and sank sharp teeth into Sirius’ collarbone.  Sirius swore; the bite hurt, but the t-shirt he wore prevented Remus from breaking the skin.  This called for a bit of escalation.  He stroked what was pressed between them, until he felt the teeth come out of his shoulder.  Remus gasped once and then howled--

Not the true howl of a wolf, though.  Sirius knew--knew in a way that comes not from sharing conversation or even a simple kiss, but from breathing the same breath and sharing the same skin--that here in this bed, locked in this embrace, Remus was as human as anyone.  And anyone was entitled to howl.

Except when he’s likely to wake the whole dormitory.  James made a sudden noise in the next bed, audible over Peter’s log-sawing snores from the other side of the room, and Sirius was jerked back from the wild ride with an unpleasant realization.

“Augh!  We’re going to wake James,” he groaned in frustration, letting up for a moment. 

“Oh!” Remus gave a different sort of gasp and pulled away.  “Oh, God, Sirius.  I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly, while he sat up and fumbled with his pants in a confused and ultimately unsuccessful attempt to cover himself.

“Hang on,” Sirius directed in a low voice.  He laid one hand across Remus’ squirming hips while he hauled himself up into a sitting position.  “Probably nothing, but… I’ll be damned if I let James in on this.  He can bloody well find his own good time, eh?  Now, if I can just find my…where the hell is it?” he muttered to himself as he ran a hand over the tangled bedclothes.

“Ha!” he whispered as he pulled his wand out from under the sheet.  He got to his knees as Remus looked on, comprehension washing over his face.  With a nod to his friend, Sirius raised his wand, poised to start a spell, and then faltered.

“Aw, Remus,” he said and pounded a fist on one knee.  “I can’t--this is really complicated and I can’t when you’re looking at me…not when you look like that.”

“What are…Oh,” Remus said shyly, after he glanced down and saw that the evidence of their recent activities was poking out from under his nightshirt.   “Sure, yeah,” he coughed and turned toward the headboard.

Sirius took a moment to compose himself with his wand motionless in front of him.  He sketched a complicated figure in the air and carefully intoned, “Fiat Vale Silencium!”

A different silence fell:  heavier, quieter and one that did not include the dragon-like snoring of Peter Pettigrew, which had lulled them all to sleep for almost seven years in the dormitory.  Remus turned to face Sirius in that moment of exquisite silence.  They stared, each conscious of the other’s breathing as the only sounds that remained in their little universe.

“Moony?” Sirius inquired softly.  He tossed his wand behind him on the bed and set his hands on his hips.  Remus nodded solemnly, and then his lips curved into a smile.  There followed an awkward minute or two of fumbling with pants, yanking off shirts and so forth, with Sirius swearing loudly about the utter stupidity of Muggles for putting ridiculous buttons on jeans and making them fit so tightly.

“Howl all you want,” Sirius said when they were finally free to take up where they’d left off.  He grasped Moony’s hips and pulled him close.  “But I swear that I’m not going to let you bite me again.”

“Grrrrrrr.”

The End