Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/105381.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_Rowling
  Relationship:
      Sirius_Black/Remus_Lupin, Sirius_Black/Remus_Lupin/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Remus_Lupin, Sirius_Black
  Stats:
      Published: 2008-10-05 Words: 23567
****** A Monster Among Us ******
by Snegurochka
Summary
     Harry shook his head, his body language shifting as his confidence
     seemed to grow right before Remus's eyes. "It's the bite," he said
     quietly, raising his hand up and pushing it into the neck of his
     shirt, exposing a raw, jagged wound. "It's making me different."
     Remus stared at him. "You've never been bitten," he said, his eyes
     widening in shock. But Harry shook his head again and moved forward.
     "I'm a werewolf, Remus. Just like you."
     23,600 words. NC-17. Established Remus/Sirius, with added
     permutations of Remus/Sirius/Harry. Underage. Bestiality. Some
     violence. Dark themes. Mind games. Moral ambiguity. OotP-compliant.
     Harry is 15. Written for the livelongnmarry auction. October 2008.
Notes
     Written for flaeyr, who won my auction at livelongnmarry. She wanted
     a Remus/Sirius/Harry werewolf story, plotty with detailed sex scenes,
     and featuring most of the other specific scenarios you'll see here.
     She didn't precisely ask for this overall structure, but it landed in
     my brain and wouldn't leave. This is set during OotP, so Harry is 15.
     Huge thanks to islandsmoke and bewarethesmirk for final beta help,
     and to many other advisors and hand-holders along the way. :)
Phase 1: Infiltration
The child was small, below average height for his age and much too gaunt. Sweat
poured down his face and his entire body shook with violent tremors as his wide
eyes took in the scene before him.
The monster was coming.
He was huge and terrible, coarse hair covering his limbs and sprouting out the
collar of his ripped, bloodied shirt, while fangs descended over cracked lips.
He snarled at the child and lunged, huge footfalls covering the distance
between them quickly. The child's shoulders quaked, his tiny feet rooting him
to the spot despite the screaming voice in his mind ordering him to move, run,
hide as fast as he could.
"John Lupin's son," the monster was growling, slowing his strides and circling
around the child. "Oh, revenge is sweet, isn't it, with a pretty little thing
like you." He closed in on the boy and bared his teeth, glistening incisors
snapping. The boy sobbed and backed away until he hit a tree trunk. Fingers
edged with sharp black nails dug into his cloak, yanking him forward and off
the ground, his feet dangling as the monster's breath washed over him, stinging
his eyes and numbing his responses. He could do nothing – not cry for help or
fight or run. All he could do was tremble and sob, not even understanding what
he had done to get in so much trouble, why this monster wanted to hurt him so
much, and as the teeth came closer to his neck, he closed his eyes and begged
silently for his parents to find him, to help him, to save him before –
"Stupefy!"
All of a sudden, the boy crashed to the ground as the monster lost his grip,
and he scrambled on his hands and knees over to the base of the tree before
peeking out, his heart hammering in his chest. A man was approaching through
the clearing, his wand raised. His face was covered in shadow, but the boy
thought he recognised the way his steps fell one in front of the other, the way
his dark hair stood up at the back and the way his voice soothed even while
casting spells.
The monster hesitated a moment on the ground before raising himself first to
all fours and shaking it off like a wet dog, and then to his feet, turning
slowly to face the newcomer. "Well, well, well," he drawled. "Has little Lupin
here got a knight in shinin' armour?" He laughed, cold and dark, and the boy
saw his saviour's wand falter. "Should've expected you to show up," he
continued, wiping one grimy hand over his mouth and stalking forward. "I hear
your mind's been ripped wide open. But this ain't a bad dream, laddie." He
pointed back at the boy over his shoulder, his eyes still locked on the
newcomer. "Make you a deal, though. You give me Lupin, nice and easy like, and
I keep that godfather of yours out of it." He paused, his lips curling up in a
knowing sneer. "Bet you like the sound of that one, eh? Come on. Give him up."
"You know I won't," the newcomer said, his voice even and his wand hand steady
again as it pointed at the monster. The boy glanced between the pair of them
with wide eyes from where he huddled at the base of the tree.
The monster laughed, a terrible sound that echoed in the boy's ears. "Yeah,"
said the monster with a grin, stalking forward and batting the wand out of the
man's hand as if it were a toothpick. "I do know that."
And then the forest swelled with screams, the sound of churned flesh and cries
of pain reverberating off the rustling trees as the monster fell on top of the
man and ripped at him with teeth and nails. Over it all, the sound of the boy's
own screams tore through the clearing, tortured and agonised and endless.
Miles away, in a dark bedroom in a property called Grimmauld Place in London,
Remus Lupin sat bolt upright, his head pounding, his eyes wide, and the cold
wash of the dream still hanging off the edges of his waking mind. His chest
heaved and he raised a shaking hand to wipe the dampness from his forehead, and
then, without thinking, he patted his hand up his bare chest and over to the
scar tissue at his shoulder.
Thank God.
He slumped forward, his heart still racing and his breath coming in frantic
gasps. Beside him, a body stirred, rolling over with the slow drip of sleep
still clinging to it. A hand fumbled up over a face, pushing black hair back.
"What is it?" mumbled Sirius, his voice as thick and rumbling as a snore, and
Remus had to take three more deep breaths before he could answer.
Harry, he nearly said, the syllables alive on his tongue, nearly choking
through his mouth and out into the cool midnight air of the bedroom. It's
Harry. But his rational mind crept back in, and Remus realised that if he said
that name, Sirius would only charge out of bed and wake up the whole house,
frantic with worry for the boy. It was just an ordinary nightmare, Remus
reminded himself, rubbing at his eyes before sinking back down to the bed.
"Nothing," he murmured, turning away from Sirius even as an arm was draped over
him and the snoring began anew at his back. Harry was asleep downstairs, or
else staring at the ceiling and worrying about Arthur's injury or heading back
to school soon. All was as it should be. He closed his eyes, whispering one
more time to reassure himself. "It was nothing."
                                      ***
Remus occasionally mused on how odd it was to see a face best described as a
carbon copy of James's ever crumple in worry, but Harry had managed not only to
do it, but to maintain it, over the entire Christmas holiday.
His limbs seemed to move slower than they had back in the summer, his bright
eyes had dimmed and his temper flared just as quickly as Sirius's. He was
fifteen years old and bore the weight of the Wizarding world on his shoulders,
and Remus couldn't help but watch him closely that week, anxious to learn how
the boy was holding up under the stress.
Well, that was one reason for watching him. The other was more difficult to
explain, even to himself, Remus quickly found.
"I'm going to consider Dumbledore's suggestion," he said to Sirius one night
after the rest of the house had retired. Lounging on the sofa in the living
room with a tumbler of cheap whisky in their hands, Remus tightened his arm
around Sirius, who was lying back against him, and brushed his lips over his
forehead. They had been careful to avoid that topic for the past few months.
"Don't know what's taken you so long," said Sirius, as he always did when this
topic came up. "Not like he can send just anyone out to those packs."
"Yes, but it's dangerous. You know that."
He shrugged, draining his glass and then reaching for Remus's. "Not a good
enough reason not to do it."
Remus sighed. "Well, anyway. I said I'm thinking about doing it, so you can
save me the lecture on my duties."
"Fine, fine. What changed your mind?"
"The thought of some time away from your pestering arse," Remus deadpanned,
trailing a finger up Sirius's arm, but Sirius only twisted his neck around to
glare up at him, smirking. Remus sighed. "We don't know what they're doing out
there for Voldemort's cause," he said quietly. "They could be actively
converting young men, attacking them and recruiting them to the packs... You
didn't see that man at St Mungo's. If it wasn't Greyback himself who did it, it
was one of his followers. They're attacking more and more now..." He tried to
clamp down on the vision of Harry from his dream. "If I can stop it, I should."
Sirius only nodded, squeezing his hand.
"Now your job is to tell me how much you'll miss me, and how worried you'll be
that I'll find some ruggedly handsome werewolf to shag out in the forest."
Glancing up at him, Sirius grinned, his tongue darting out to lick at his
bottom lip in a way that always meant mischief was on his mind. "I shall miss
you, Moony," he said solemnly, "and I shall worry constantly that you'll be
shagging some ruggedly handsome werewolf out in the forest. Maybe up against a
tree every night," he added, his voice dropping to a purr, "with a cock in your
mouth or your back scraped raw on the bark, moaning and coming so hard you
don't even notice the moon shifting or your–"
"I see the idea doesn't bother you as much as I thought it might," said Remus,
laughing and taking a swipe at Sirius.
Sirius turned in his arms, crawling on top of him and sitting up, his thighs
straddling Remus's lap. "I have a vivid imagination," he murmured, leaning in
to bite lightly at Remus's neck.
"Do you now." Remus curled his fingers into Sirius's jeans and pulled him down
harder, thrusting up a little bit. "And what's in that imagination of yours
right now?"
"Well." Sirius's lips moved from Remus's neck to his collarbone and then up his
jaw, nibbling at his day-old beard and then breathing hotly in Remus's ear. "I
imagine if you want to impress the feral werewolves of southern Wales with your
prowess at shagging in forests, you'll want to do some practicing, hm?"
"In a forest?"
Sirius attacked his neck anew, making Remus moan and tilt his head back. "Not
necessarily, no. But you should definitely, ah, practice."
Remus directed Sirius's head up to kiss him, light and teasing and then more
insistent. "Are you asking for something in particular?" he breathed against
Sirius's mouth when they parted, and Sirius lapped at Remus's bottom lip,
smirking.
"Been a while since we put that Wolfsbane to good use," he murmured, and Remus
felt the shudder begin at the base of his spine at the suggestion, shooting
down his thighs and out to his fingertips. It wasn't something they did often,
either with Padfoot or Moony, and the full moon wasn't for another few days,
but even talking about it was enough to make Remus shiver with arousal.
Unbidden, the room went black and his mind exploded with the image of Harry
underneath him on the forest floor, naked and writhing as Moony approached and
fell on top of him. Harry moaned and shoved his arse back, his elbows digging
into the dirt as he glanced back over his shoulder with hooded eyes and
reddened lips, panting. I'm a werewolf, he was saying, the words foreign on his
tongue. Fuck me like you'd fuck a werewolf. And then Moony was driving into
him, pinning him to the ground and thrusting with hard, erratic strokes as
Harry clawed at the earth and cried out. The clouds shifted then, and at the
streak of moonlight that fell down to them, Harry began to change as well, his
incisors lengthening and his back curving with the spine and shoulder blades of
the wolf. He stayed in a half-changed form while Remus fucked him, driven by
the need to hold this new, young werewolf down and teach him a lesson, keep him
from transforming completely and challenging Remus's authority. Harder, wolf,
Harry was chanting. God, harder.
The image evaporated as quickly as it had come, and Remus blinked the room back
into focus. Sucking in a breath with a shudder of alarm, he trained his gaze on
Sirius again, who was still leisurely grinding against Remus and trailing his
mouth down his chest, following the fingers that unbuttoned Remus's shirt.
Remus exhaled and tried to stop trembling, squeezing his eyes closed to shut
out the remnants of the sudden vision. "Upstairs," he croaked, his hand firm on
Sirius's shoulder to stop him from going further, but Sirius just quirked an
eyebrow at him.
"More privacy down here than upstairs with the kids," he pointed out, but Remus
shook his head. "Come on," teased Sirius. "Let's play big bad werewolf right
here in the living room. Help, help," he added in a mock feminine voice. "I'm
being attacked by a werewolf with– with–" his eyes widened as he moved his hand
down to cup Remus's groin – "an enormous, terrifying prick." Never one to play
the damsel in distress for too long, Sirius immediately reached to unfasten
Remus's trousers, but Remus shot a hand out to circle Sirius's wrist.
"No werewolf stuff," he snapped, and Sirius raised his eyes from the wrist to
Remus's face.
"Moony, what are you–"
"No."
Sirius looked annoyed. "You like the werewolf st–"
"Not tonight." He released Sirius's hand and scrubbed at his face. "Never mind.
I'm just– I'm going to go to bed. Look, I just wanted to tell you about the
envoy work, okay? I'll probably leave after the kids go back to school, see if
the packs in Wales will talk to me." He rose from the sofa and headed for the
door. He hesitated when he got there, rubbing at the back of his neck before
turning back to face Sirius, who was staring after him with his brows creased.
"Yeah, all right. We'll talk about it tomorrow."
"It's just, if I'm going to be doing this," Remus tried again, "I can't be, I
don't know, eroticising werewolves and transformations and such." He made a
vague gesture with his hand before sighing. "And I won't really be fucking any
wolves in the forest, you know," he added with a half smile before turning
serious again. "I'd never do that to you."
A flash of something Remus couldn't place crossed Sirius's face as he dragged
the back of his hand over his forehead to push his hair back, but in another
moment it was gone, and Sirius sat up, leaning forward on the sofa with his
elbows lodged on his knees. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I know."
                                      ***
When the kids left later that week, Remus barred himself from giving Harry a
hug or even a good-natured ruffle of his hair. It wasn't real, he tried to tell
himself, as if repeating it on a loop like that might make him better able to
forget the visions he had been having, attacking him night and day now for no
reason that he could see. He barely trusted himself even to look at Harry,
never mind touch him; the boy's mere presence was enough to activate images of
him naked and arching against a cold floor after a transformation, or
approaching Remus with that terrible scar on his neck and begging him to lick a
trail over it, or –
He squeezed his eyes shut and retreated to the far corner of the kitchen table,
sitting down to watch from afar as Tonks helped the kids gather their things
and begin to shuffle upstairs.
"Don't take any shit from Snape with that Occlumency, do you hear me?" Sirius
was saying to the boy, his eyes flashing and his index finger pointed in
warning.
Harry huffed, twisting his lips into a grimace. "I don't want anything to do
with him," he muttered.
"I don't, either," said Sirius, "so if he does anything to you, anything at
all, you tell me about it, yeah? Here." He pushed a package into Harry's hands,
and Remus sighed. That bloody mirror. A wave of grief washed over him as he
remembered the way Sirius and James would whip those things out of their
pockets at the drop of a hat, bending over them and whispering frantically. It
seemed fitting that Sirius would want to pass one of them along to James's son,
but it still provoked a pang of sadness in Remus.
Harry nodded, shoving the package in his pocket and blinking up at Sirius with
that youthful innocence and determination that Remus couldn't help but admire.
He was more like his godfather than either of them knew.
"I could come with you," continued Sirius, dropping his voice as his face took
on a longing that tugged at Remus's heart as he watched. "I'll go as Padfoot;
it'll be fine. We can–"
"It's too dangerous," whispered Harry, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed,
before throwing his arms around Sirius and clinging to him, although only for a
brief moment. Sirius enveloped him in an embrace, his arms wrapped tight around
the boy and his face nearly buried against Harry's hair. He let one hand slide
up from the boy's back into the ruffled hair at the back of his head, his
fingers moving slowly through the dark mess, and Remus could have sworn Sirius
inhaled the boy, closing his eyes and letting the intimate moment wash over
him.
Remus sighed, resting his chin in his hand and wishing things didn't have to be
like this, wishing Sirius didn't have to hide away from his godson after so
much time apart from him already. They had such an obvious connection; it would
be good for both of them, Remus mused, if they could spend more time together.
As he pulled out of the hug, Sirius's lips brushed over Harry's forehead, and
the boy closed his eyes briefly and tried to smile, but his face remained
shadowed. "All right, off you go," said Sirius gently, stepping back and wiping
a hand over his mouth, letting it linger there a moment as Harry gathered his
things and headed upstairs.
Remus rose to follow, pausing to place a reassuring hand over Sirius's shoulder
and exchange a glance of comfort with him.
Once Remus and Tonks had successfully led the kids through the Knight Bus
journey and deposited them at the gates of Hogwarts, Remus took one last chance
to peek inside the collar of Harry's cloak as he reached out stiffly to shake
his hand, a wave of relief washing over him once more at the absence of any
scar tissue there. "Look after yourself," he managed, and Harry held his gaze,
smiling shyly at him and dropping the handshake, shoving his hands back in his
pockets and kicking at the dirt a bit.
"Yeah, all right," said Harry, his tongue wetting his bottom lip and leaving a
tiny drop of moisture there to glint in the bright winter sun. "See you, then."
Remus found himself fixated on that drop, his breath accelerating before he
caught himself, swallowing and stepping back. He nodded sharply and waved as
Harry turned to join his friends, casting one last glance at Remus over his
shoulder, his eyes lingering and his face beginning to flush, as though his
thoughts of Remus might mirror Remus's thoughts of him. But a second later,
Remus turned away, disgusted with himself for letting his imagination get the
better of him. He was just under stress; that had to be it. Those bloody dreams
really had to stop, and now that Harry was gone from the house, maybe they
would.
Harry wasn't a werewolf. That would be absurd. It wasn't real, Remus repeated
to himself again. It wasn't real.
                                      ***
The voice was cold in the monster's ear. "And so, what news of the werewolf?"
"I do believe I'm makin' progress, sir."
"I am not interested in progress. I will have nothing less than full
infiltration and decimation."
The monster turned, but there was no sign of anyone behind him. He sighed.
"Easy, guv. Gonna take some time to get his mind nice and soft. This one ain't
like the boy. He's still resistin' a bit."
"What did you say to me?"
"I– now look, there ain't no need to– oh. Christ. I can't– I can't feel my–"
The monster shrieked, collapsing to the floor. "Don't. No!"
"I advise you to address me with respect and cease speaking unless spoken to.
Do I make myself clear?"
He struggled to his knees. "Fuck. All right. Just–"
"Crucio."
                                      ***
"Professor Lupin?"
Remus glanced up from his book as the door to the library creaked open and the
timid boy stepped through. "I've told you to call me Remus now, Harry," he said
pleasantly. "I'm not a professor anymore."
"Right." Harry ran his hand through his messy hair and puffed out his cheeks
before exhaling. "Sorry. I keep forgetting." He gave Remus a weak smile. "Could
I– are you busy?" He gestured towards the book, which Remus set down on the
table next to his chair, face down to hold the page.
"Not at all. Come on in."
Visibly relieved, Harry stepped further into the room and closed the door
behind him. "Could I talk to you about something?"
"Certainly." If Remus found it odd that Harry would be coming to him for advice
rather than Sirius, as he usually did, he gave no indication of it. The sooner
the boy got used to the fact that Remus was here to stay, a fixture in Sirius's
life, the better.
Harry dipped his hands halfway into the pockets of his jeans and moved forward.
His shuffle morphed into a saunter before Remus's eyes, leaving his mouth dry
and his eyes fixed on the boy. "I don't quite know how to say this," confessed
Harry, pulling his bottom lip under his teeth.
Remus cleared his throat. "Are you concerned about your OWLs?" he ventured.
"It's perfectly normal, you know, but I'm sure if you spend the rest of the
year revising and practicing exam questions, you'll be–"
"It's about my dick," blurted Harry.
Remus stopped talking, his mouth hanging open as his gaze flew up to the boy
standing before him, filling out his t-shirt in ways Remus hadn't noticed
before and watching Remus with interest. "Ah," he croaked at last. "Right.
Perhaps your godfather is better suited for this conversation?"
Harry shook his head, his body language shifting as his confidence seemed to
grow right before Remus's eyes. "No. Not for this." He paused, wetting his
lips. "It's the bite, Professor," he said quietly, raising his hand up and
pushing it into the neck of his shirt, exposing a raw, jagged wound. "It's
making me different."
Rising slowly from his chair, Remus stared at him. "The bite?" he asked, his
voice trembling.
"Tell me what it's like," continued Harry, his fingers pausing at the hem of
the t-shirt before grasping the material and pulling it slowly over his head.
Remus watched him drop it at his feet and had to close his eyes against his own
gathering arousal. "Tell me why I've been wanking four times a day since I got
attacked. Tell me why my cock is hard allthe time."
"You're fifteen," Remus managed, swallowing. "That's why. You've never been
bitten. You're not–"
"No." Harry shook his head again and stepped forward. "I'm a werewolf,
Professor. Just like you. You could bite me yourself if you wanted," he added.
"Wouldn't make a difference."
As he came even closer, the scent rolling off him hit Remus in the gut,
flooding his senses with young, aroused werewolf, and had it been anyone else,
anyone at all, Remus would already have had them pinned to the wall with his
cock grinding into theirs. But this was Harry, for God's sake – James's son,
Sirius's godson, and no, no, this couldn't be right. Something was very wrong
here, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. "You were bitten?" he
whispered, raising his hand and letting hesitant fingers glide down Harry's
bare chest even as the horror of his previous dreams gathered in the pit of his
stomach. "It was real?"
Harry nodded, reaching for the buttons of Remus's shirt.
"And now you... know what it's like."
"Want to know," Harry corrected him, his lips curving into a sly smile as he
gazed up at Remus from under his messy fringe. He shoved Remus back down into
the armchair, tearing his shirt open and dragging his fingernails down Remus's
chest as he climbed on top of him, straddling his lap.
His lips attacked Remus's neck, and the horror drained from Remus's body,
replaced all too quickly by a driving need to have this boy. Now.
"Know what it feels like to get hard all the time; want to know how it feels to
do this..."
Tipping his head back and groaning, Remus grabbed the boy by the hips and
thrust up against his jeans, working the material over his cock and letting the
pleasure spiral through his body. The wound at Harry's neck coloured the corner
of Remus's vision, and he focused on it even has he ground his hips up into
Harry, shuddering at the feel of Harry's erection pushing against his own and
already calculating how quickly they could be rid of the rest of their clothing
and Remus could be inside the boy, shoving him down and taking him, letting all
his fantasies come true. "Harry," he murmured, clutching the boy to him and
grinding hard against him. "God."
"Honestly, Remus, this is ridiculous! How do you expect meto stop worrying
myself sick over Harry when you yourself are always drifting off into these
dreams of yours, terrified something has happened to him!"
Remus froze.
"Wake up!"
His eyes were closed. Okay, that was probably a good thing. His mind raced.
What had he just said out loud? Oh God.
"Wake up, dear!" A solid hand shook his shoulder, and with his heart still
hammering in his chest, he reluctantly cracked an eye open to see Molly
standing in front of him, a look of exasperation mixed with concern on her
face. "Harry is fine," she repeated, planting her hands on her hips.
"Dumbledore won't let anything happen to him while he's at school, so you can
stop moaning over him!"
He stared at her, breathing hard through parted lips, before shaking his head
in an attempt to clear it. "Right." He coughed. "You're right, of course. I'm
being foolish." He gave her an apologetic smile. "You know how it is."
She sighed. "Yes, dear, I do," she said quietly, giving his shoulder another
squeeze. "I worry about him all the time." Her face fell into a frown and she
twisted her hands in her apron for a few seconds before taking a deep breath
and facing Remus again. "But it's not doing any of us any good, is it? We have
to trust that Dumbledore will keep him safe." She headed back towards the
library door.
"Have you seen Sirius?" he called after her, pushing himself to his feet and
scrubbing at his face.
She turned at the door, frowning. "Well, he's out of my way for once, so I
can't say I've bothered looking for him today," she said, pressing her lips
together. "But I suppose he'll be upstairs somewhere." She gave him one more
sympathetic look. "Get some rest, Remus. You look as though you haven't slept
in a month!"
He nodded wearily at her, waiting for her to leave before following her out the
door and dashing into the foyer and up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
"Padfoot!" he called when he got to the third level, panting a bit and pausing
to wait for a reply.
"What? Up here."
Remus ran up the final flight of stairs to find Sirius just backing out of
Buckbeak's room on the top landing, well away from Molly's eyes and ears,
bowing low and closing the door behind him. Catching him off guard, Remus
slammed Sirius up against the wall of the hallway, rattling a portrait of a
Black family ancestor hanging above them, and pressed his body in close. He was
still thrumming with the thrill of the dream and couldn't even stop to analyse
it yet or worry about what it might mean. All the wolf wanted was to fuck.
Sirius laughed in surprise, grabbing fistfuls of Remus's shirt and pushing him
back just enough to look at him and appraise the situation, his eyes sweeping
over Remus, before he quirked his mouth up and pulled Remus back in again,
crushing their mouths together and threading his fingers in Remus's hair.
"Right here?" he murmured, still smiling against Remus's lips, and his fingers
were ripping at Remus's shirt before Remus could even answer, reminding him all
too much of his dream and the way Harry's deft fingers had done the same thing,
digging into his chest and –
He groaned, fumbling with Sirius's belt and his own and tearing their trousers
down almost at once, his mouth still hot over Sirius's and his hands desperate
for any contact they could get. "Down," he panted, shoving Sirius to the floor
before pushing his own trousers down further and pulling his cock out. "Now."
Sirius moaned, falling to his knees in a split second and yanking his trousers
off one leg. He barely had time to brace himself on all fours before Remus was
on top of him, whispering spells in his ear and shoving fingers inside him, and
the wolf nearly howled inside Remus as he felt Sirius's immediate arousal and
acquiescence. "Fuck, Moony," groaned Sirius, dropping his head between his
shoulders, his ripped shirt still hanging off his torso and his hair falling
over his face, and Remus could barely stand it; he grasped his cock at the base
and pushed forward, lodging it inside Sirius and draping himself over Sirius's
back.
He couldn't stand to stop or wait; he just started thrusting, shoving himself
against Sirius in a battering rhythm, the threadbare carpet burning their knees
and obscene groans filling the landing. The images from the dream filtered back
into his mind, and Remus gasped at the thought of having Harry underneath him
like this, young and strong and filled with werewolf stamina and desire. He
could show Harry what it was like to fuck like a werewolf, help him experience
that driving, primal need that accompanied the rise of the moon each month,
ensure he understood the ways his body would react and his blood would heat.
With a choked grunt, he grabbed Sirius's hips and stilled, pouring himself into
him with his cock jerking and his body alive with crushing shudders.
Quickly, he sat back on his heels and pulled Sirius into his lap, grabbing for
Sirius's dick and fisting him roughly. "God, fuck," Sirius bit out, and it
didn't take long before he doubled over, coming in Remus's fist as his arse
convulsed around Remus's softening cock. They collapsed to the floor, slumping
against the wall in a tangle of limbs and dust, breathing heavily through
reddened, parted lips.
They were silent for several long seconds before Sirius angled his head towards
Remus and raised his eyebrows.
"So," he panted, "that was new."
Remus let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes, his mind a
muddle of need and shame and complete, utter bewilderment. He ran a hand over
his face and then up through his hair, pausing at the back of his head and
finally glancing at Sirius. "I have to talk to you," he said.
                                      ***
Phase 2: Accusation
"Your mind is weak." The cold voice floated once more into the monster's ear,
and he sat up straighter in his cell, sniffing the air.
"It's takin' time," he said through gritted teeth. Christ, it wasn't as though
he'd ever done this before. A little patience wouldn't be out of line. "Told
you – he's stronger than the boy. Harder to get in."
"But you have infiltrated his mind by now, have you not?"
"Yeah, think so. Hard to tell from here, see, with the way it works, but yeah,
won' be long."
"Won't be long." The cold voice fell flat and then silent, and a sound like
impatient fingernails tapping on a wand filled the cell. "My patience has its
limits."
The monster huffed, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Look, I told you
I could do it, yeah? Give me some fuckin' credit. I'll get you the boy –
bleedin' and mangled and–"
"I need the boy alive," sneered the cold voice. "Mangle him as you wish, but if
he is unable to complete his task, you are the one who will pay the price."
The lock clicked back in place and footsteps faded from the cell. The monster
sat back against the cement walls and smiled. "You need me a hell of a lot more
than I need you," he muttered to himself, before closing his eyes and focusing
his mind once more on his prize prey, the one man whose flesh had ripped so
nicely and with such satisfaction in his mouth so many years ago.
                                      ***
"So, okay. Let me get this straight."
Remus sat on the bed, elbows on his knees and his hands folded in an attempt to
appear calmer and more collected than he felt.
"He's a werewolf?"
Remus nodded wearily. "In the dreams, yes."
He glanced up to find Sirius scratching at his jaw, his brow creased. "And he–
I mean you–" He paused, dropping his hand and looking directly at Remus.
"You're fucking him."
"In the dreams, Padfoot," said Remus irritably as Sirius began pacing again.
"I'm not actually fucking him. He's fifteen, for God's sake." He dropped his
gaze to the floor again, not able to look at Sirius as he said it, because it
wasn't quite true; the desire that had welled up inside him in every one of the
dreams couldn't be brushed aside by the hollow comfort that he had never
actually touched the boy.
"Good," said Sirius, interrupting Remus's thoughts. He stopped pacing and stood
directly in front of Remus, arms crossed over his chest. "Because you know I'd
have to kill you if you ever touched that kid."
Remus jerked his head up, locking his gaze on Sirius. "What?"
"He's my godson, Moony," said Sirius, his voice harsh. "He's mine to protect."
"Yes, well, thank you for that reminder that his parents never gave the honour
to me, or even the pair of us, for that matter," muttered Remus. "I'm quite
aware of who he is, and what kind of protection he needs."
"Are you?" challenged Sirius. "Then how do you explain these dreams?"
"I can't," said Remus, rising from the bed and facing Sirius, his tone cold,
"which is why I've told you about them. Silly me, but I thought you might
actually wish to help." He tilted his head to the side and glared.
"Help? Yeah, hey, whatever gets you hard," Sirius shot back. "If you're going
to be waking up from dreams about my godson getting down on all fours for you,
and then coming to find me to fuck through that landing up there–" he flung his
finger towards the bedroom door – "then sure, I'll just go with it, shall I?
Always helping a bloke out, that's me."
Remus breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to remain calm. "I'm sorry
about that," he admitted. "I shouldn't have done that, and maybe I shouldn't
have told you about any of this, but I thought you'd want to know, especially
since–"
"Oh, what?" Sirius waved his arms around, finally planting them on his hips as
he continued to shout. "Especially since you'll probably do it again tonight,
and every other time we shag? I'll have to wonder if it's the thought of
Harry's cock that's got you all hot and bothered, or if it's actually me, so
next time you want to–"
"Especially since I'm not the first person in this house to have unexplained
visions!" shouted Remus.
Sirius fell silent, opening his mouth as though to respond but then closing it
again. His nostrils flared as he stared at Remus.
Remus watched him carefully, waiting for it to sink in.
"Arthur and the snake," Sirius muttered to himself after a long moment, his
face melting from rage to concern. "You– but that's Harry's connection to–" He
paused. "You've heard what Dumbledore says about that. It can't be what–"
"No," said Remus slowly, "it can't be, but what else explains it?"
Sirius continued to gape at him. "You– okay. Wait just a second." He rubbed at
his forehead. "You're having erotic dreams about my godson, and–"
"Would you quit calling him that?" snapped Remus.
"Well, he is."
"Yes, I'm aware, but that makes him sound so– so–"
"Young?"
Remus sank back down onto the bed, his shoulders sagging. "Yes."
"Fine." Sirius paused. "So, you're having erotic dreams about Harry, which, by
the way, is really, supremely not on, okay, and you want to justify it by
blaming fucking Voldemort? I just, look, are you really–"
"Don't say it like that, Christ." Remus let his head fall forward as he stared
at the floor. "Look," he tried again after a few seconds' silence, "I only told
you about it because I thought you could help me figure it out. There's got to
be a reason, or something I can do to block–"
"So, you want lessons from Snape now, too?" said Sirius nastily, narrowing his
eyes. "The pair of you, running off to bend over in the fucking dungeons for
that bastard, letting him–"
"Padfoot!" cried Remus. "God, what are you on about?" He spread his hands and
glared at Sirius with his mouth hanging open. "I don't want to run off
anywhere, and certainly not anywhere with Snape. And I'm quite sure Harry is
not harbouring any secret passion for the man, either. What's got into you?"
Sirius frowned, running a hand through his hair and muttering something under
his breath.
"Look, maybe it's not a bad idea. Not Snape," he added when Sirius threatened
to interrupt again, "but, I don't know." He scratched at the back of his neck.
"Maybe looking into some Occlumency wouldn't hurt. Something's going on in my
head," he said quietly, feeling his muscles tense even as he said it, loath as
he was to admit to Sirius or to himself that this was something other than mere
dreams, "and spells that mess with people's heads are never good ones." He
raised his eyes to Sirius again, giving him a pleading look.
With a dramatic sigh, Sirius moved back towards him and slung an arm around his
shoulders, sagging against his side. "Okay." He kissed Remus's temple,
smoothing back his hair with his free hand. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry.
We'll look into it."
                                      ***
After three weeks spent rifling through every tome in the Black family library,
however, the two of them were no closer to finding an explanation or a solution
for Remus's visions. For his part, Remus couldn't say he was surprised; apart
from the general entries on Legilimency and Occlumency in Wizarding
encyclopedias, there was nothing in any Dark Arts book about the connection
between Voldemort and Harry, after all, so why would there be anything about
Remus's connection to... whatever, or whomever, he was connected to?
If he was connected to anyone at all, which was looking increasingly unlikely.
The full moon was near now, and Remus had been jumpy all day. His skin itched
and his heart seemed to be beating too fast in his chest – all normal symptoms,
but also symptoms that felt more pronounced this month than at any time in the
past. Unless he was imagining that.
The visions had been hitting him sporadically, despite his best efforts to
pinpoint a pattern. Some came at night, when he was tangled in the sheets with
Sirius, and woke him with cold sweat beading on his forehead; others came in
broad daylight, when he was stacking books in the library or smoothing out new
intelligence maps from Kingsley across the dining room table. At those times,
he would be on his feet one minute, busying himself with his task, and then
blindsided by a vision the next, so real it felt as though a Portkey had jerked
him from one location to another, spreading an entirely new reality before him.
When he came to again, he would find himself back at his original location in
the house, sprawled in a chair or, in one case, flat out on the floor, with his
head pounding and no idea how much time had passed.
It was really bloody disconcerting.
The scenes his mind could conjure varied as well, but they all had two common
themes: Harry was always there, and Harry either already was a werewolf, or he
was in the violent process of becoming one. Remus could never quite identify
the monster who attacked Harry in the visions, but he had no doubts it had to
be the same one who had haunted his dreams since he was six years old. There
was only one werewolf out there with that much power over him and now, if the
visions were to be believed, over Harry.
But the visions are not to be believed, he reminded himself as he put the last
of the books away. They weren't real. Harry was at school; Harry was fine. He
would never have to undergo the pain of a transformation or the horror of not
being able to remember what he had done the night before while in wolf form. It
had to be stress, Remus reasoned, born of his understandable concern for the
boy and the danger he was in from Voldemort and the Death Eaters.
"Thirsty?"
Remus looked up to find Sirius hovering in the library doorway, holding out a
steaming goblet. He sighed, rising and moving to the door before taking the
drink. "Thanks," he murmured, scowling into the frothy mess. Severus Snape was
a dreadful man for many reasons, but his potion-making skills were not among
them. Every time Remus had to down this swill from the local apothecary, he
cursed himself and Snape alike for losing him his only access to properly
brewed Wolfsbane. When he was done, he set the goblet down on a nearby table
and glanced back at Sirius, who was giving him an odd look. "What?"
"Nothing." A practiced, innocent smile tugged at the corners of Sirius's mouth.
Remus eyed him.
"I know that look," he muttered, "and it's not nothing."
"Yeah? What look is that, then?" Sirius sauntered towards him, wrapping one
hand around his waist.
"No," he said feebly even as Sirius pressed up against him, his lips already
brushing the shell of Remus's ear.
"Haven't said a word," breathed Sirius.
"No, but you want to. You're going to," protested Remus, but he arched back
against Sirius despite himself.
"What do I want?" he murmured, his teeth nibbling at Remus's earlobe, and with
a low groan, Remus turned in Sirius's arms and pushed him back up against the
wall beside the door, rattling the nearby bookshelf. He pinned Sirius's arms to
his sides and brushed his jaw up against Sirius's.
"You want Moony tonight," he whispered, fighting down a sly grin at the shudder
that passed through Sirius's body at the words.
Sirius curled his fingers into the waist of Remus's trousers, hauling him in
closer. "Maybe I do," he breathed. "So what's wrong with that? We play safe,"
he added with a nip at Remus's bottom lip, nodding over at the empty goblet.
"Safe is not precisely the word I'd use for it," said Remus, rolling his eyes,
but it was already evening, and he could tell that his body was going to betray
him. Sirius knew it as well; that was why he always waited until this time of
day to ask for what he wanted.
"Okay," said Sirius, his body sagging into the wall as Remus squeezed his
fingers around Sirius's pinned wrists. "Let's be dangerous, then. Safety's
overrated, anyway." His voice dropped to a purr as he wriggled under Remus's
body. "Want you," he murmured. "Come upstairs; I'll get you ready." He sought
Remus's mouth for a deep kiss, the power of it spreading throughout Remus's
body even as he felt his blood begin to shift in anticipation of the moon.
"Not me who needs to get ready," he panted when they parted, releasing his hold
on Sirius, and Sirius laughed, grabbing Remus's arm and leading him up the
stairs.
It was a clear night, a warm night, and locked in their bedroom with all the
precautionary spells and wards in place, the two of them tried to put Remus's
strange visions aside for the first time in weeks and simply focus on each
other. Sirius undressed them both slowly, pressing Remus down to the bed and
moving his mouth over every part of him, tasting and touching until Remus could
barely feel the imminent tremor in his bones. They kissed, long and slow, and
as the moon approached, Remus moved between Sirius's legs, his fingers slick
with lubricant, and began to push inside him. He opened Sirius carefully,
waiting until he was rocking back against Remus's hand and moaning, one fist
clenched in the bars of the headboard, before adding another finger.
When he finally withdrew, leaving Sirius panting on the bed, Remus slid to the
floor and closed his eyes, the white light of the moon shining in through the
thin curtains.
That innocent beam of light wracked his body, and he distantly heard the howl
of pain that ripped through him as his bones began to crack and reform. His
vision blurred, his sense of smell and taste were cut off and his hearing
clouded as the wolf rearranged his face. Lengthening fingers and toes reformed
his knuckles, and the coarse hair spouting from every follicle in his body felt
like a million tiny razor blades slicing through him. He choked down a cry of
pain and tried to calm his panicking mind – God, every month, every fucking
month, it was always the same – and focus on what was to come. Sirius was still
naked on the bed, waiting for him. Sirius would help his body relax in another
few minutes and then soothe him after.
Sirius, yes. Sirius would do anything for him.
But in the middle of the change, as Remus's vision bled back in and the
animal's greyscale overtook his normal sight, Remus narrowed his eyes to see
not only Sirius on the bed, one arm flung over his eyes and his body coiled
with tension as he listened to the change, but another figure as well. There,
just there, on the other side of the bed. Remus squinted.
"Harry?" he tried to ask, but only a hollow cry escaped the wolf's lips.
The boy moved around the bed to join Remus on the floor, kneeling before him in
torn jeans and no shirt. His pale torso shivered in the light breeze from the
window, and he reached forward to grab at the fur on Remus's shoulder. Leaning
in close, Remus heard only two words leave the boy's mouth and float into
Remus's ear. "Bite me."
Fully transformed now, he reared back on his hind legs, startled, and stared
down at the boy, his mouth already salivating at the prospect.
"Want to go through this with you," continued Harry, slowly unbuttoning his
jeans and lifting his cock out. He began to stroke it lazily as he gazed up at
Remus. "You wouldn't have to be alone. Think about it, Professor. We could
transform together. You'd show me how, show me what to do so it doesn't hurt as
much."
Remus blinked and shook his head, but the wolf's jaws had a mind of their own,
already beginning to snap as he gazed down at Harry.
"God, yes. Look at you. You want it, don't you?" Harry sucked in a breath,
pulling his bottom lip under his teeth and increasing his pace on his cock. "I
think about you, you know, every time I'm alone. And now I can be just like
you, Professor. Just like you."
Remus's body wanted nothing more than to surge forward, pin the boy down and
maul him, feel his skin tear and blood fill the wolf's mouth. All he needed to
do was pounce, and the boy would be his. All he needed to do was –
"All right, Moony?" a gentle voice called to him from the bed, and turning
abruptly, Remus found Sirius still spread out, propped up on one elbow and
watching him intently with a look of concern on his face.
When Remus turned back to the floor, Harry was gone. His mind struggled to
process it all, but under the influence of the potion and in wolf form, he
didn't have all his faculties about him. All he felt was confusion and
disappointment, but the thought of joining the man on the bed quickly overtook
his senses. With a low growl, he crawled up onto the bed and swiped at Sirius
with one paw, tearing the skin a bit until he complied and turned over,
breathless and wide-eyed.
"God, yes," murmured Sirius, pushing himself up on his hands and knees and
dropping his head between his shoulders.
Mine, was all the wolf could think as he stabbed forward, shoving inside the
man and lodging his front paws over the muscled back underneath him. The wild
groans that filled the room fuelled the animal's lust, and he began to thrust
forward with all his power. The shadows of the room fell over them, highlighted
by streaks of moonlight as Moony found a rhythm, pressing Sirius down to the
mattress and fucking him without restraint, surging inside him and relishing
his moans of pleasure. As he came, locked over Sirius's back and pulsing waves
of wolf semen into him, he was blindsided by another image of Harry, naked and
writhing underneath him like this, taking his cock even as his shoulder bled
from a fresh wolf bite.
No.
He pulled out when it was safe, sitting back on his haunches as Sirius panted
underneath him, rolling over onto his back and grinning like a fool. His belly
was sticky with come, and he laughed as he ran a hand over his face and through
his hair.
"Fuck, Moony," he muttered fondly, before pushing himself off the bed and
staggering to the bathroom. "Jesus fuck, do I love you."
As the sound of his groaning laughter faded away behind the bathroom door,
Remus sank back down onto the carpet and curled up in a ball, his heart
hammering and his vision blurred with the pulsing thoughts of young flesh and
fresh blood.
                                      ***
Newly released from his confinement, the monster flexed his meaty fingers and
breathed in the scent of mown grass and decaying flowers on the wind. He had
finally made the old bastard proud.
"You have consistently and relentlessly entered the werewolf's mind," the cold
voice had confirmed to him when unlocking the cell. "That much is clear in the
boy. I can see it myself."
"The boy?" The monster scratched his belly, licking obscenely at his lips. "He
havin' dreams 'bout his filthy old professor, then, just like you thought?"
The cold voice hesitated. "Something like that. It is not your concern. You
have performed your duty, penetrating the werewolf's mind. Leave the boy to
me."
"Yes, sir. Told you I would. Sick bastard, that Lupin, though, ain't he? Fuck
me." The monster shook his head, laughing low in his belly. "Even I never
thought of some of that stuff, what was already in his head."
The cold voice ignored him. "You must continue it, and press him further. The
power to visualise the boy as a werewolf is one thing; the power to actually
mutilate him is another." The voice paused as one pale, bony finger trailed
over a wand. "See to it that he will bite the boy himself."
"Yes, sir." The monster grinned, rubbing at his grizzled face. He hadn't had
this much fun with Remus Lupin since the man had been six years old.
                                      ***
Phase 3: Penetration
Remus stopped telling Sirius about the details of the dreams, and Sirius
stopped asking.
Their research had proven nothing, and every time Remus had tried to talk about
Harry, Sirius's shoulders had shot up and he'd thrown Remus a cold look. Harry
became the elephant in the room for much of the winter, the one name neither of
them dared mention. The only thing Remus could think about whenever he
visualised Harry was the memory-imprint of the boy peeling his clothes off and
saying unspeakable things to Remus, things that kept Remus hard and aching in
the middle of the night. But Sirius didn't want to hear about any of that, and
Remus couldn't blame him, really.
"Only one more idea," Sirius said to him the last time they had spent the
afternoon in the library. He threw another book aside, rubbing his eyes and
pressing his lips together.
Remus glanced up.
"Dumbledore." Sirius shrugged. "Visions in your mind... He'd want to know,
wouldn't he?" But even Sirius didn't look convinced, and Remus took advantage
of that.
"Says the man who wants to go for daily walks as Padfoot and not tell
Dumbledore," he pointed out. "The man who broke into Hogwarts as a convict
without telling Dumbledore. The man who wishes Harry would give up Occlumency
lessons with Snape and not tell Dumbledore. The man who–"
"All right." Sirius glared at him. "I get it."
Remus tried to laugh. "Dumbledore, Christ. I still remember the time in sixth
year he took me aside and told me it was perfectly normal to fancy one's mates,
if they were reasonably fit and 'stimulated your mind,' or something like
that." He cringed at the memory. "God."
"You did spend an awful lot of time that year staring at my arse."
"Because I was already shoving myself inside of it on a regular basis, you
might recall," Remus shot back, laughing, but a moment later he sighed,
thumbing the gilded edges of the volume in his hands. "What, exactly, do you
suggest I tell him?" he muttered. "That every time I fall asleep I picture
Harry's naked body? That I am being held hostage by dreams of fucking that poor
kid blind?" His tone sharpened. "That I can't even–"
"Stop." Sirius bowed his head, his chest heaving. "Just– stop. I can't–" He
breathed in deeply, clenching his jaw. "Forget it. You're right: no Dumbledore.
This is just– something you have to–"
"–deal with myself." Remus closed his eyes as Sirius left the room, his heart
thudding in his chest and his stomach churning.
If there were no answers in any Dark Arts book and no answers from either his
own experiences and expertise or Sirius's, then Remus could draw only one
conclusion: he had conjured those images of Harry not because he was possessed
or haunted or the victim of a Dark spell, but simply because he wanted to. And
that was something neither he nor Sirius were prepared to deal with.
He used the whole mess as an excuse not to visit the packs, putting Dumbledore
off and trying to explain to Sirius that it just wasn't in the Order's best
interests to sacrifice him at a time like this. In reality, he feared what
might happen to him out in the wild. He feared the way the smell of pine and
dirt under his fingernails might arouse him, the way the sight of other young
men turned into wolves – like the one he imagined in his dreams – might hit too
close to home for the new, dark desires he harboured, and he wouldn't be able
to control himself if any of them presented him with an opportunity.
                                      ***
Remus found Sirius up in his old childhood bedroom one day near Easter, sitting
cross-legged on the floor and surrounded by stacks of photographs. Remus leaned
against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest to watch for a
moment. Sirius's brow was furrowed as he thumbed through the pictures, but a
sunbeam streaking in through the high window lit his face in ways that made him
look younger and more carefree than he had in some time. Remus found himself
smiling as he gazed at him.
"Hey, come look at these," called Sirius softly, not raising his eyes but
waving two photos in each of his hands.
"How did you know I was here?" Remus pushed off from the doorframe and walked
into the room.
"Please. You're louder than the hippogriff on these floorboards." Sirius
glanced over at him at last, smirking, and Remus sat down beside him, folding
himself onto the floor to peer at the photos. "Bianca," purred Sirius, the name
coming out as a moan, and with a raise of his eyebrows, Remus took one of the
photos from him.
He gazed down at a perfectly polished motorcycle, the black leather seat
gleaming and the chrome glinting in the afternoon sunlight. A much younger
Sirius, wearing worn blue jeans, black boots and a tight t-shirt, sauntered
into the photo and swung one leg over the bike, reaching down to adjust his
crotch before grabbing the handles and grinning at the camera. Remus nearly
lost his breath at the sight. It had been some time since he'd had occasion to
recall how beautiful Sirius had been back then, young and reckless and
desperate for only two things in his life: riding that bike hard, and riding
Remus even harder.
He almost laughed out loud as the comparison crossed his mind. God, those had
been the days. He cleared his throat.
"Bianca?"
Sirius tilted his head to the side. "Or Mabel. I forget. Changed it every other
week anyway, didn't I?" He grinned, tracing the edges of the photograph with
his index finger. "You remember taking this?"
Remus wet his lips, nodding. "Yes. I think I do." He raised his eyes and locked
them on Sirius's, both of them grinning like fools. "You and those obscene t-
shirts," continued Remus, his fingers coming up to move over Sirius's bicep.
"Too tight here–" the fingers moved across to Sirius's chest – "and here.
Nearly impossible to peel them off you when necessary."
"You did all right," breathed Sirius, setting the photos down and crawling over
to Remus. He leaned in close and brushed his lips over Remus's. "You remember
fucking on that thing?" he added, his voice low, and Remus groaned.
"You think I'd ever forget?" he murmured, cupping Sirius's face and drawing him
in closer. "Fucking over that bike was your favourite position." He grinned
against Sirius's mouth, and Sirius sat back on his heels, laughing.
"Can you blame a bloke?" he asked, his eyes bright, and then his face fell
again and he pursed his lips. "You know, I was thinking about it, just going
through these photos, and if there's one thing I wish, it's that I could have
taken Harry up on her a time or two."
Remus was silent for a moment, the mere mention of Harry's name enough to jolt
something sharp and warm through his body. "Oh," he managed after a few
seconds. "Right, yes. He would have enjoyed that."
Sirius stared down at the photos scattered around him. "He would have, yeah.
Especially since he never got to play with magical stuff like that as a kid.
Bet he would have loved flying on that bike with me." His tongue darted out to
lick his bottom lip, and Remus stared at him, suddenly assaulted by images
putting the two different strands of this conversation together. Visions of
both Harry and Sirius crept into his mind, climbing off the bike and wiping
sweat from their brows, laughing and punching playfully at each other and
running appreciative hands over the sleek chrome and leather, hands that
quickly moved from the bike to each other, smoothing over flushed skin and –
He swallowed, forcing the image down, but it wouldn't leave him. Before he knew
what he was doing, he'd cupped his hand around Sirius's neck again and drawn
him close, kissing him deeply. Sirius groaned against his mouth, parting his
lips and letting his tongue slide against Remus's. "Bet he would have loved
it," whispered Remus, his lips hot against Sirius's, and Sirius paused for a
few agonising seconds, breathing hard and swallowing, before pushing Remus down
on his back, wrists flat against the floor on either side of his head.
Straddling him, Sirius leaned down and kissed him again, their mouths crashing
together as Sirius's fingers dug into Remus's wrists to hold them in place.
"You want to picture him?" breathed Sirius, moving his lips from Remus's mouth
to the shell of his ear and whispering fiercely. "You want to think about Harry
on my bike, legs spread wide and his arms around my waist, holding on so
tight?"
Remus's breathing sped up despite his best efforts to keep the images at bay,
and he found himself grinding up against Sirius's body. "God," he muttered.
"Yeah, I do."
"Tell me what you're thinking," said Sirius, his mouth still moving steadily
over Remus's neck, ear, and jaw line, nibbling at him, panting over him and
making him very hard, very fast.
"You'll get pissed off," said Remus with a forced laugh, but he couldn't help
but say it; he didn't want to have another fight over this.
Sirius pulled back, sitting up over Remus's body with his hands planted over
Remus's chest, his eyes locked on Remus's face. Slowly, he began to shake his
head, his tongue wetting his lips as his expression shifted to something Remus
had never quite seen before. "No," he murmured, reaching down to unbutton
Remus's shirt with careful precision, one button popping slowly through each
hole. "This time I want to hear it."
Remus arched his back, pushing up into Sirius's hands as they smoothed over
Remus's bare chest and stomach. He closed his eyes and let the images overtake
him, breathing hard as he began to talk. "Thinking about him with you," he
breathed, "you in that leather jacket and those tight jeans you used to wear,
and he'd be– he'd be behind you, holding on, his hands over your chest and his–
his lips at the back of your neck."
Sirius's mouth trailed down Remus's stomach, licking at the dips around his
muscles and moving his hands over the hair on Remus's chest and lower belly,
brushing his nipples and making Remus moan. When he reached Remus's trousers,
Sirius paused, taking the fabric between his teeth and tugging lightly,
glancing up to hold Remus's gaze.
"Christ," moaned Remus, as Sirius smirked, his hands moving down to replace his
mouth and slide Remus's zip down, opening his trousers and pushing them slowly
down his hips.
"Keep talking," breathed Sirius, his mouth hot over Remus's hip bone and upper
thigh.
"You'd be so hard just from knowing he was there behind you, flying through the
air like that, feeling him pressed up against you, and just being on that bike
at all always made you hard, but this, this would be different, because it'd be
Harry's first time, first ride, and you'd want it to be so good for him,
something he'd, God, he'd never forget, the wind on his skin and the– the way
you could steer that piece of metal through anything." All the rides he'd ever
taken with Sirius on that bike roared to life in Remus's mind, all the
sensations and eroticism of the flight and the feel of Sirius's body against
him flooded through him again, even as he spoke about Harry. "And when you
landed, you'd– you'd– oh, Jesus. Oh God."
Sirius lifted Remus's cock out of his pants and slid his lips up the shaft, his
fingers and tongue moving lightly, a barely-there touch that had Remus writhing
on the floor of the bedroom and desperately trying to push up for more contact.
"Keep talking," insisted Sirius, catching Remus's eye again before flattening
his tongue out and licking up Remus's cock, flat and wide and oh so wet.
Remus moaned, his hands flying to his forehead and pressing against his fevered
skin. "When you landed," he whispered, "you'd rip all that leather off him and
fling him around, shoving him up hard against that bike, and he'd be young and
perfect and maybe nobody'd ever had him before, maybe he'd be new, untouched,
but sitting on that bike with it vibrating like that, and having his arms
wrapped around you, feeling your skin under your shirt in the air, it would've
made him so hard, so ready for you, and you– God, you'd–"
Sirius's lips slid over the head of Remus's cock, wet pressure overwhelming
him, and he paused and panted, the fantasy and reality crashing together in his
mind. Sirius let his thumb and two fingers move up Remus's shaft while his
mouth moved down, meeting in the middle and then each shifting direction, a
concentrated effort that made Remus see white behind his eyes. "I'd what?"
breathed Sirius on the upstroke, before licking at Remus's dick again and
swallowing him down.
"You'd fuck him," Remus choked out. "You'd– oh, God– you'd spread him open and
get him ready, and you wouldn't– you wouldn't take your clothes off, just unzip
and lift your dick out, big and hard and just, just–" He paused to swallow as
his spine began to tingle, his orgasm approaching fast. "You'd push inside him,
inside Harry, and you shouldn't, you're not supposed to want him, but he's
begging you and pushing back to meet you, his fingers gripping that leather
seat, and he wants you so much, God, there's nothing– nothing you can do, you
just have to fuck him, have to know what it's like, and you–"
Sirius doubled his efforts, one hand planted on Remus's stomach now while the
other slid up and down his dick, his mouth tight around Remus and his head
bobbing rhythmically. Remus felt the curls of arousal peak in his body, a swift
rush that threatened to pull him under, but he kept talking, kept the words
tumbling out.
"He comes all over the seat, all over the side of the bike, and he's sobbing
and shaking and you've got your arms around him, telling him it's okay,
whispering in his ear that he's good, he's brilliant, and he's clenching around
you, so tight and hot that you can't stand it anymore, and you– you– God, you
come inside him, pouring into him so hard, just clutching at his body and
coming, coming, the first man maybe, the first inside him, and you – Oh." His
own orgasm ripped out of him and flooded Sirius's mouth, and he couldn't say
another word; he could only freeze on the spot, his mouth open and his eyes
squeezed shut and all the energy in his body rushing forth. He groaned and
pounded his fist on the floor, arching his hips up to jerk once more in
Sirius's mouth before he floated back down, panting and opening his eyes to see
Sirius lifting his lips away and wiping them with his hand.
"God, you fucking pervert," Sirius was muttering, tearing his own jeans open
and hauling his dick out, and Remus saw him glance over at the discarded photos
again, taking in the image of that bloody bike, and Remus knew he was imagining
just the scenario Remus had outlined: Harry folded over the side of the thing,
panting and flushed and covered in come while Sirius took him from behind. He
fisted himself quickly, still staring at the photo until his face flushed and
his lips dried out and then, only then, did he move his eyes back to Remus,
where they glittered down at him.
"Come on," whispered Remus, pushing himself up on his elbows and letting his
unbuttoned shirt fall to his sides as he watched Sirius's dick disappear in his
fist and then push back through again. "Do it."
With his face crumpling and a deep groan rumbling up from his chest, Sirius
slid his fist one more time over his cock and began to spurt over Remus's chest
and stomach, his head thrown back and his entire body shuddering. "Harry," he
whispered. "God, fuck." When he was done, he sagged down on top of Remus, still
straddling him and panting as his hands dropped to his sides. He opened his
eyes and peeked through his dark fringe, holding Remus's gaze for several long
seconds. "Christ," he muttered at last.
Still panting himself, Remus could only nod, licking his lips and turning his
head to the side as he collapsed back down to the floor. "Yeah."
"We, uh. That was–"
"Yeah."
"I don't– I mean, I don't know if we should–"
"Yeah. No. We shouldn't."
Sirius climbed off Remus at last and fell down beside him on the floor,
sprawling out and kicking at him playfully with one leg. "Okay. Well, let's
just, uh, not do that again, maybe."
"Right." Remus ran a hand over his face, and then turned his head to the side
to glance at Sirius.
                                      ***
They did, though.
Enacting fantasies about Harry quickly became their favourite pastime during
sex, a development that Remus found alarming but unable to control or stop.
The dreams or visions – whatever they were – slowly took over his life,
sometimes seeping into his head at night while he slept and other times in the
middle of the day when, like the time Molly had found him in the library, they
would assault him and use the currents of his mind to play out every imaginable
type of sordid fantasy. He would jolt back to consciousness feeling sick to his
stomach and more aroused than he could remember, and trying to reconcile those
two reactions was nearly driving him mad.
At the same time, though, on the days and nights the visions didn't appear,
Remus found he couldn't accept their absence. Instead of waiting for them to
come to him, he began to do something else entirely: he went looking for them,
and inventing them himself when they didn't materialise.
Sex took on a new urgency for both him and Sirius, and before long, all they
needed was one glance from one to the other and whispered words like, Chained
to the wall, or In the Quidditch shed, and they would have to fight each other
up the stairs, tearing their clothes off as they went and barely remembering to
hope that they had the house to themselves. The filth poured out of their
mouths once they were naked or, at least, once they had shoved enough clothes
aside to reach the parts they wanted, and together they sank into their
fantasies of Harry.
Their imaginations put the boy through every scenario possible – from the
standard image of him pinned to the bed with a cock in his arse and another in
his mouth, to the more inventive scene of him working as a rent boy at the
Hog's Head with two older customers taking turns passing him between them and
then abandoning him on the bed, sprawled out and dazed, to clean the filth off
his body himself.
With each one, blinding orgasms overtook Remus's rational mind, pushing aside
all the protests he should have had as a teacher, a mentor, and as one of the
best friends of the boy's parents. He was sickened and aroused by what they
were doing, but he rationalised it to himself with the thought that so long as
he maintained control of his fantasy life where Harry was concerned, he could
maintain control of the dreams and visions.
                                      ***
"Tie him up," whispered Remus one afternoon as they enacted a new scene,
crawling up Sirius's body and covering him, breathing over every inch of his
skin. "Gryffindor ties, what do you think? I could be his naughty professor and
you could be–" he paused, wetting his lips – "I don't know, the escaped convict
chasing him?"
Sirius groaned, pushing his hips up against Remus's body and writhing under the
onslaught of words. "Bind his wrists to the headboard with his own Gryffindor
tie? God." He dug his fingernails into Remus's back, pressing Remus's mouth to
his neck through the curtain of black hair.
"Strip his clothes off," Remus murmured. "Just lay him bare, tied to the
headboard, till he's hard and begging for us."
"I'd get him first," growled Sirius, dragging his nails over Remus's back.
"Yeah? You first, me second?" Remus twisted his hips, catching Sirius's prick
against his thigh and pushing down. "Think of how dirty he'd be after that."
"God, yes. And his naughty professor could make him touch himself, yeah?"
"While the convict watches?" A wave of pleasure shot through Remus's body. "Oh,
I like that. If he didn't behave himself for me, letting me do what I wanted,
I'd threaten to sic the nasty, perverted convict on him, hm?" He rotated his
hips again, dragging his cock against Sirius's.
"Make him touch himself, God," groaned Sirius, working himself up into a string
of rambling words, his eyes shut and his lips parted. "Like– oh, God, he loved
it when I did that. Loved when– Christ, he looks so incredible when he comes."
Sirius began to move faster, panting and pushing his hands through Remus's hair
as his cock ground up into Remus's. "A perfect little fucking angel, spread out
like that for me, debauched and embarrassed and covered in come."
Remus's eyes widened as he felt Sirius stiffen under him already, his cock
spurting in quick jerks between their bodies, and dammit, they were barely even
into the beginning of the fantasy.
"Got to do it again," Sirius was mumbling, his eyes shut and his face flushed
as Remus pushed himself off and stared down at him. "Got to see that again,
that perfect fucking face when he comes, just–"
"Again?" whispered Remus, his throat drying out. That wasn't what Sirius meant.
He was still in the fantasy; that was all. He was –
Sirius's entire body stilled, his lips clamping into a thin line and his eyes
crinkling around the edges where they sealed themselves shut. Remus stared at
him, almost able to see the wheels churning in Sirius's head.
"Padfoot?"
The bedroom hummed with silence punctuated only by heavy breath and racing
thoughts, and Remus felt a cool trickle like ice down his spine.
"No."
Sirius's eyes slowly opened, as his chest heaved.
"I– oh my God." Remus's mouth fell open. "How many times?" he asked quietly,
shifting away from Sirius on the bed and wrapping one fist in the sheets to
keep himself from punching something.
Sirius unstuck his lips, slowly pushing his tongue out and wetting them before
swallowing. "Just– twice," he murmured.
Remus paused, his heart hammering in his chest. "Please tell me he wasn't any
younger than he is now."
"Not– by much." Sirius looked away.
"I–" Remus didn't know if that was good news or bad. "When?" he croaked.
"I– look, it doesn't matter. It wasn't anything you need to– I mean, can we
just forget it ever–"
"When?"
Sirius fell silent again at the note of fury in Remus's voice. "Christmas," he
mumbled.
Remus stared at him. Christmas. When the dreams started. Fighting the barrage
of emotions tumbling through him, from rage to betrayal to cold, hard fear, he
forced the only words out of his mouth that he could focus on, the only words
that mattered right now. "Did he want it?" His voice broke on the last
syllable.
Sirius's eyes widened. "Did he– what? Yes. Oh my God, okay, no, don't you dare
think that about me. Don't you fucking dare, Moony." He grabbed a corner of the
sheets and angrily wiped the come from his dick and his stomach.
"What am I supposed to think?" said Remus coldly. Christmas. God. When Harry
was upset about Arthur and the visions. When he was so vulnerable. "What–
Christ." He rubbed at his eyes. "What happened?"
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, his eyes haunted and far away. "I just– I
don't know. I didn't mean to. I didn't– go looking for it." He glanced at
Remus. "I didn't."
Remus was silent.
"I found him in one of the old rooms upstairs one day when I was looking for
Kreacher. Wanted some privacy, I guess, away from Ron in their room, and–" He
closed his eyes. "He was having a right proper wank, all right? Jeans pulled
open, doubled over on the edge of the bed, hand just flying on his–" He
coughed.
"And you did what?" Remus tilted his head to the side, still trying to contain
his fury.
"I didn't do anything," said Sirius, his eyes pleading. "I fucking swear. But I
also–" he sighed, scrubbing at his face again – "didn't leave."

"You–"
"I watched him," said Sirius quietly, resigning himself, it seemed, to just
telling the story and getting it done with. "He saw me; he knew I was there. It
wasn't a secret. His eyes widened at first and he fumbled a bit, trying to jump
up and zip it and not fall off the bed all at once." His face softened as he
spoke, almost fading into a reminiscent grin. "But then it was like it occurred
to him that he didn't have to stop, didn't have to be embarrassed, and he...
kept going. Slowed down a bit, and his face was bright fucking red." He gave a
short, blunt laugh, before rubbing his hand over his forehead and grimacing
again. "I couldn't make myself leave. I don't know what the fuck it was, Moony,
and I never told you about it because, Christ, how do I explain it? But I
couldn't leave. I closed the door behind me and leaned back against it, staying
far away from him, but I didn't leave."
"So you watched your godson wank."
Sirius glanced over at Remus, narrowing his eyes. "Don't do that," he began,
shaking his head in warning. "Don't you dare fucking say it like that. What
were we just doing, you hypocritical fucking–"
"That was a fantasy!" roared Remus. "That was completely different, and if you–
if you–"
"Yeah, completely different." Sirius snorted back a laugh before turning hard
eyes on Remus and crawling towards him on the bed. "I watched him wank," he
said slowly. "He watched me watch him, too, and he fucking got off on it. You
should have seen him, Moony, clenching that hand around his dick and calling my
name out when he came. It was fucking exhilarating, and he was going to freak
out after, so I went over to him and kissed him on the forehead and told him it
was normal, it was all right."
"And then what?" cried Remus, pushing him away. "You pulled your own dick out
and wanked on his face? He's fifteen, Sirius!"
"I fucking left, that's what. I left, and I found you, and I fucked you into
the mattress, you miserable fucking prick, and this is why I didn't tell you.
This. Every single time you've ever had the choice of thinking, Wow, Padfoot is
quite the upstanding citizen, or thinking, Christ, Padfoot is a completely
immoral piece of shit, guess which one you choose?" He pushed himself off the
bed and stormed across the room, rooting through the dresser for his clothes.
"Story of my fucking life."
It had to be a dream. Why couldn't this be the dream, the nightmare? Remus
squeezed his eyes closed and begged himself to wake up.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
When he opened his eyes again, Sirius had pulled his jeans on and was staring
out the window, his face shuttered but his chest heaving. It wasn't a dream.
Rising from the bed and gathering his own clothes from where they were strewn
about the floor, Remus strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
                                      ***
Phase 4: Decimation
Out in the forests up north, where the wind bit at a man's back and the
wretched grass would slice an ankle open if a bloke was dumb enough to lose his
boots, the monster trudged back to camp. He inhaled the scent of the wild and
relished his freedom once more, but he was careful to avoid cursing that damn
cold voice and its orders, even in his mind.
One could never be sure who else might be prowling around in there.
"You look like shit," the man beside him was saying, glancing sideways at the
monster and appraising him with disdain. "Christ, you really been down with
them wizards so long? You smell like a fuckin' candy cane." The man laughed,
swinging a beefy arm hard into the monster's back.
"Shut the fuck up," the monster shot back, catching the arm and twisting it
backwards, stopping just shy of the snap. "You don't know nothin' 'bout what's
goin' on down there."
"Oh yeah, you my fuckin' politician now, gonna come back up here and tell us
what's what? Fuck you, Greyback." The man yanked his arm loose and glared at
the monster. "You give me one fuckin' reason not to tear your arms off your
body right fuckin' now." He folded his tree-trunk arms over his chest and
narrowed his eyes, and the monster paused in his step.
Digging a piece of food out of the back of his teeth and chewing for a moment,
he spat it out on the man's boots before leaning in close and letting a slow,
nasty grin spread across his face. "You remember every wolf you bit?" he asked,
his voice rough as a gravel road.
"What? Yeah. I dunno. Who fuckin' cares?"
"I got us a weapon," the monster continued, continuing up the hill without
waiting for the man to follow. He did, but reluctantly.
"You got fists and a wolf in your blood, you don't need no other weapon," the
man muttered, but the monster only shook his head.
"Oh, but this one's good, mate. Never seen anythin' like it." He glanced
sideways again, working his mouth. "Learned it down south. There's a spell,
yeah? Breaks into the mind of the one you bit." He tapped at his temple and
began to laugh deep in his belly. "You can do whatever you fuckin' want to him
in there, and he don't even got a clue."
The man stopped walking and stared at him for a long moment, before a slow grin
spread across his face as well. "No shit."
"Fuck, yeah. And my lad?" The monster paused, shaking his head like a proud
parent. "Gonna destroy the whole fuckin' Wizarding world 'cause of what I did
to him. Fuckin' genius, mate."
The other man let out a low, appreciative whistle.
"Best part is, though," the monster added, slapping a hand into the other man's
broad chest, "I barely had to do nothin'. Most of it's in his bloody head
already, the miserable fuckin' pervert."
Eyes wide, the pack leader laughed.
                                      ***
Twice. Twice.
Images of Sirius and Harry together assaulted Remus every waking moment after
that, as his brain tried to deduce what their second time together might have
entailed.
First was wanking and watching. God. It was outrageous, abominable, completely
depraved and indecent and it went against everything Remus stood for. Harry was
fifteen, for God's sake, barely more than a child, and Sirius was his
godfather, in a position of trust and authority over the boy, and he had abused
that trust completely, completely, and Remus should leave, that was it; he
should gather his things and get out of this house, because he couldn't be with
someone who would abuse his relationship with Harry that way, someone who –
He sank down to the living room sofa and buried his face in his hands.
By that definition, he would have to run away from himself as well as from
Sirius. Fuck.
He tried again, shaking his head to clear it.
Harry was fifteen... nearly sixteen now. He carried the weight of the Wizarding
world on his shoulders. He had seen more war and death already than most people
see in an entire lifetime. He had made choices no normal teenager should ever
have to make, lost loved ones much earlier than most other kids and been asked
to grow up much faster than his peers.
More important than any of that, Harry adored Sirius. Remus knew that, and even
now, he couldn't help but smile at the thought that after so long without his
parents or anyone to care about him like family should, Sirius had come back
into his life. It was understandable, natural even, that they should have been
drawn together.
The more the issue plagued Remus's mind, the more images assaulted him of Harry
and Sirius together. Slowly, as his mind and body worked through the shock of
the discovery, the further his conscience shifted from outrage, betrayal and
even jealousy, to quiet understanding, and finally to deep, pulsing arousal.
Sirius hadn't wanted to tell him because he feared Remus would be angry, but
Remus, for his part, hadn't wanted to hear it because he feared he wouldn't be
angry, not nearly as much as he was supposed to be.
Visions of Harry at Christmas floated through Remus's mind, and he reached for
wisps of them, grabbing what he could and holding onto them. There was Harry
opening the Dark Arts books Remus and Sirius had given him, grinning madly and
turning warm eyes on both of them before getting up from his chair and wrapping
his arms around Sirius's neck in big hug, even as his eyes flickered over to
Remus and his grin deepened. There was Harry emerging from the shower, pulling
a t-shirt over his head and fastening the button on his jeans, a towel jerking
through his hair and his glasses still fogged with steam, passing Remus in the
hall with an embarrassed Oh, uh, hello, before racing back to his room. There
was Harry finishing his dinner with the others in the kitchen, turning around
to check for Sirius at the door every three seconds and asking Remus about him
every five.
Had they met up in the attic again one afternoon just like the first time,
Harry holding Sirius's gaze as he slowly unfastened his jeans and wriggled out
of them, palming his prick until he was flushed and panting? Or had Sirius gone
further that time, nudging Harry's hand away and touching the boy himself, his
long fingers wrapped around him and pressing just right? Or – oh, God – had it
been even more than that – Sirius's mouth on the boy, his tongue opening him up
for his fingers to follow, or his cock. Jesus.
All of a sudden, a blinding pain hit Remus's head and he doubled over, hands
tight in his hair and every bit of his skull on fire. When the pain subsided,
there was Harry again, kneeling before him in the living room, wearing that
same t-shirt and jeans and smiling shyly at Remus.
"'Lo, Professor," he said softly, and Remus groaned, running a hand over his
face.
"No," he began firmly, "you're not real. Don't call me professor. You only do
that when you're not real."
"I– oh." Harry paused. "Yeah, okay. But, maybe I'm real? I mean, do you want me
to be real?"
Remus eyed him. "I don't know," he said slowly. "What are you going to do if
you are?"
Harry considered that. "Like, am I going to take my clothes off?"
Remus closed his eyes.
"Or am I going to turn into a werewolf?"
Remus blinked. "Jesus." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're not real,"
he recited under his breath. "Not real."
"Look, I don't think I have much time." He glanced back over his shoulder, and
Remus furrowed his brow, sitting up straighter on the sofa. "But I could tell
you found out about me and Sirius, and just, I don't want you to be angry at
him, okay? It wasn't his fault. He just– I mean, I don't know how it happened,
but it was my fault, and I–"
"It wasn't your fault," said Remus firmly. "Don't ever think that; don't ever
let him make you feel that way! He shouldn't have–"
"No, listen!" Harry sighed, his eyes frantic. "I don't mean it that way, okay?
He didn't force me to do anything, just like if it'd been you, I wouldn't have
been forced."
Remus stared at him. "Me?"
"I–" Harry dropped his gaze, biting at his lip as a flush crept over his face.
"Yeah."
"Harry," said Remus softly, the name sliding off his tongue before he could
stop it, and as his gaze swept over the boy, taking in that telltale messy
hair, the determined brow and the pale expanse of neck, he reached a hand out
and cupped Harry's face. His fingers slid over lightly stubbled skin that could
have been real, might have been real, if only– if only –
But as soon as Remus touched him, Harry's image began to flicker in front of
him, threatening to disappear entirely.
"Shit." Harry's eyes darted back and forth. "I think I'm losing you. I just had
to tell you that I can see it, Remus. I can see all of it." His brow was
creased and his eyes pleading, and Remus sat forward on the sofa, peering at
him.
He opened his mouth to respond, but Harry held up a hand.
"Just, listen!" he begged, glancing over his shoulder again. "I can see things
in my mind – just like with Mr Weasley. Voldemort's talking to someone, a
werewolf. He's telling him to get inside someone's mind, to do things to them.
And then it disappears, and I can see you, and sometimes Sirius, and you're–"
Remus's eyes widened.
"–well, you're– there are things about werewolves, and I don't– I don't
understand it completely, but I asked Hermione if there was a werewolf
Legilimency or something, and she thought that maybe there was, maybe it's
something that–"
Harry's image flickered again, like a candle trying to face down a torrent of
wind, but Harry squeezed his eyes shut and pressed on.
"–werewolves can do, see in each other's minds if there's a connection, and I
don't know, Remus, but Hermione's worried; she said they might be trying to
hurt you, trying to–" Harry started to break up, and Remus could only catch
every few words out of the boy's mouth. "Don't know what I'd do without you.
Please, Remus, you– to fight it. Can't– without you. Don't blame Sirius. Needed
him. Helped me. Occlumency. Danger, you and–"
"Harry!" Remus reached out for him again, but his form flickered and finally
disappeared, and Remus found himself groping through empty air. He sat in the
living room for a long time after that, his mind racing through the
possibilities for what was going on, each more unbelievable than the last.
                                      ***
"What happened the second time?"
Sirius glanced up from his desk, quill paused in mid-air. "What?"
Gathering himself together, Remus moved into the library and closed the door
behind him, checking automatically over his shoulder to make sure none of the
other occasional occupants of the house was following him. "The second time,"
he repeated, collapsing into the armchair beside the desk. "You said it
happened twice. I've been driving myself mad picturing what it could have
been." He sighed, giving Sirius his best pleading look.
"Ah." Sirius set his quill down, the corners of his mouth turning down. "So,
we're talking about it, then?" He gave Remus a pointed look.
"Like reasonable adults?" Remus snorted. "No, probably not." He bit at his
bottom lip and looked at the floor. "But I have to know."
After a long silence, Sirius sat back in his chair. "If I fucked him, you
mean," he said dully, his eyes focused on the desk before he finally glanced up
and held Remus's gaze. "That's what you have to know."
Remus nodded. "Yeah."
"What if I did?"
His tone was sad, resigned, but not defensive, and Remus found he couldn't even
pinpoint how he felt about the whole situation. It was somewhere on the
outskirts of jealousy, but not quite yet in the realm of arousal. Picturing
Sirius with Harry was intriguing somehow, but he still couldn't avoid the twist
of his stomach that the very thought of it generated. "If you did?" he repeated
softly, folding his hands and leaning over with his elbows planted on his
knees. "Then I guess I'd have to ask you if you still want to be with me."
Sirius seemed surprised at the question. His face melted from a guarded
blankness into genuine concern, and he immediately rose from the desk chair and
moved over to Remus, falling to his knees in front of him. "You never have to
ask that," he said firmly, his eyes bright. "Never fucking ever, okay? I can't
explain it, but it was about me, and it was about Harry, but it never had
anything to do with you." He pressed his lips together and swallowed. "There's
just– there's something about that kid, isn't there? I mean, you know what I'm
talking about now, don't you? After the– the things we've been doing? You feel
it, too." He placed a hand on Remus's thigh.
Despite himself, Remus pushed a hand through his hair and nodded. "Yeah," he
whispered. "I feel it, too."
Sirius closed his eyes. "What's got into us?"
"I don't know for sure, but I've some idea."
Sirius opened his eyes again and raised his eyebrows, clearly not having
expected an answer.
"When was it, exactly? Do you remember?"
Sirius wet his lips, his gaze moving over Remus's shoulder. "Uh, yeah." He
scratched at his jaw. "A Wednesday. Couple of days before they all went back."
A Wednesday.
The child was small, below average height for his age and much too gaunt. Sweat
poured down his face and his entire body shook with violent tremors as his wide
eyes took in the scene before him.
The monster was coming.
He was huge and terrible, coarse hair covering his limbs and sprouting out the
collar of his ripped, bloodied shirt, while fangs descended over cracked lips.
He snarled at the child and lunged, huge footfalls covering the distance
between them quickly. The child's shoulders quaked, his tiny feet rooting him
to the spot despite the screaming voice in his mind ordering him to move, run,
hide as fast as he could.

The very first dream whirred back to life in Remus's mind, and he clutched at
the arms of the chair.
"John Lupin's son," the monster was growling, slowing his strides and circling
around the child. "Oh, revenge is sweet, isn't it, with a pretty little thing
like you."

Greyback. But there had been more to it than that. Nightmares about Greyback
were nothing new to Remus.
"Has little Lupin here got a knight in shinin' armour?" He laughed, cold and
dark, and the boy saw his saviour's wand falter. "Should've expected you to
show up," he continued, wiping one grimy hand over his mouth and stalking
forward. "I hear your mind's been ripped wide open. But this ain't a bad dream,
laddie." He pointed back at the boy over his shoulder, his eyes still locked on
the newcomer. "Make you a deal, though. You give me Lupin, nice and easy like,
and I keep that godfather of yours out of it." He paused, his lips curling up
in a knowing sneer. "Bet you like the sound of that one, eh? Come on. Give him
up."
"You know I won't," the newcomer said, his voice even and his wand hand steady
again as it pointed at the monster. The boy glanced between the pair of them
with wide eyes from where he huddled at the base of the tree.

"His mind was open," muttered Remus, closing his hand over his mouth as
comprehension finally dawned. "He was thinking of– oh my God. He couldn't have
known it, but–" He glanced back at Sirius with new resolve. "Tell me what
happened that night."
Sirius swallowed, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice Remus's words
under his breath. "He sought me out that time, asked me to come to one of the
spare rooms with him, that he had to go back to school soon and he'd miss me,
miss what we'd–" He bit his lip, shaking his head. "And I went, Moony, I did,
because I couldn't say no to him. He was just perfect, so scared and confident
all at once, just like James had always been." He smiled sadly. "Just like
you've always been. And I just, I took his clothes off and held him. I kissed
him. I let him touch me, and I touched him. It all just seemed like it was
supposed to happen, like there wasn't anything wrong with it. I didn't– I
didn't go too far." He exhaled loudly, locking his gaze on Remus's. "Despite
everything we've been playing at with these fantasies, I couldn't do any of it
when he was right there in front of me. Nothing that filthy, at least." He
snorted back a laugh, rubbing at his jaw again.
"But you brought him off," prompted Remus, and Sirius hesitated before he
nodded.
"Yeah. Just with my hand, and my– well, both of us, at the same time. I– God,
he felt good. So responsive, Moony; you should have seen him. His face was pink
and his lips red, and God, he's brilliant. Made these fucking amazing little
sounds, and when he came, Jesus. It was like the world completely stopped for
him." He grinned, his eyes bright at the memory.
"Make you a deal. You give me Lupin, nice and easy like, and I keep that
godfather of yours out of it."
"You came to bed smelling like him," said Remus, more to himself than to
Sirius, but Sirius's mouth fell open.
"I– shit. Yeah, I probably did. I'm sorry, Moony. I'm a dickhead. I'm totally
irredeemable. I'm just–"
"No, I don't care about that." Remus held up a hand to silence him, his mind
still racing.
"Make you a deal."
Remus jumped to his feet, pacing. "His mind was open, and you came to bed
smelling like him, and Greyback had been trying to get to me, completely
separate from this, but when Harry's mind opened, he must have– he must have–"
He stopped, turning to Sirius. "Did Harry mention me?"
Sirius blinked at him. "While we were...?"
"Yes."
"He– well." Sirius thought about it. "Yeah, actually. Quite a bit." He paused.
"Never really thought about it before, but he asked if we should be doing it,
if you'd know or be angry, or if he should explain it to you, or if I should,
that sort of thing. And when– wow. Shit."
"What?"
Sirius rubbed at his forehead. "When I had us both in my fist, working my dick
with his, he closed his eyes and he–" Sirius swallowed.
"Padfoot!"
"Okay, just give me a second! God, this is weird." He frowned at Remus before
taking a deep breath and continuing. "He closed his eyes and he was panting,
just about to come, and he asked if I did that with you, not just sex, like –
well, you know what he meant – but like that, with our dicks together in my
hand like that, coming all over my fist, and when I said yes, we did that quite
a bit, actually, that's what sent him over, that's what made him come, and I–"
"God," Remus moaned, dropping back down in the chair.
"What is it?"
"That kid really should have been taught Occlumency a long fucking time ago."
Remus closed his eyes. "We all should have been." He slid off his chair and
down to the floor, gathering Sirius in his arms and pushing his fingers through
Sirius's long hair. After a moment of uncertainty, Sirius reciprocated the
gesture, pulling Remus in tight and kissing the side of his face.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, his heartbeat steady against Remus's chest, and Remus
cupped his face, turning him towards him and brushing their lips together.
"I know," he whispered back. "And I'm not mad, not anymore. Just worried."
"So, what is it, then?" asked Sirius, pulling back and brushing the hair off
Remus's face. "Harry's controlling your dreams?"
Remus shook his head. "No, I don't think he knows what he's doing. Same as with
Arthur or his other visions. But if Voldemort's in his mind, and Greyback's in
mine, and Christ, Voldemort's in Greyback's, then there's more than enough room
for the wires to cross. Especially if–" He paused, searching Sirius's eyes.
Their gazes held, locked together for several long seconds before Sirius's
features softened in comprehension, and he nodded slowly. "Ah. Especially if
you've already been thinking about each other," he finished quietly, taking a
deep breath.
Remus swept his thumb across Sirius's cheek, waiting.
"He's a great kid," added Sirius at last, smiling gently at Remus. "Brilliant,
really. He'd be lucky to land either one of us."
Remus laughed. "Either one of us would be lucky to land him, you mean."
"Or that." Sirius pulled him in again for a kiss, his lips opening smoothly and
drawing Remus in. "Or," he murmured against Remus's lips, "the three of us
could be really lucky to have found each other."
A shiver rippled through Remus's body at the thought, and he hesitated, his
lips hovering near Sirius's as images of Harry splashed through his mind, but
instead of the usual panic he'd felt over the past few months whenever thoughts
of Harry surfaced, this time he felt only peace, a single drop of calm sliding
down his spine and spreading through his body. "We should probably gauge
Harry's interest in the matter before making that decision for him," he said
with a quiet laugh, and Sirius grinned.
"Oh. Yeah, good point." He paused, running the tip of one finger up and down
Remus's arm. "Hey, Moony?"
"Mm."
"We set?"
Remus glanced at him. "Yeah. We're good." A mischievous smile crept back over
his face. "You can't keep your dick in your pants, and I can't keep my
imaginary dick in my imaginary pants. What a pair." He shook his head sadly as
Sirius punched him in the arm.
"Love you," he murmured, his eyes bright as they gazed at Remus. "Always have,
always will."
"I know," Remus whispered, wrapping his arms around him. "Love you, too." He
paused. "No one else'd have us, that's for sure."
Sirius snorted into Remus's shoulder. "Except Harry?" he asked hopefully, and
Remus laughed, but the smile quickly faded as he contemplated his next move.
"Maybe," he agreed. "But before we can worry about any of that, there's
something else I need to do."
Sirius glanced up from Remus's shoulder.
"Figure out how to get Greyback out of my bloody head."
                                      ***
"Don't you think you should show him?"
Remus opened his eyes, startled, to find himself back in their bedroom at
Grimmauld Place, his head aching as a dream-like fog clouded his vision. A
moment later the wisps cleared away, and Remus was left staring down at his
bed, blinking in disbelief.
"He's new to all of this, Moony. How else do you think he'll figure out his
body, figure out the way werewolves... do things." That slow, lazy smile spread
across Sirius's face as he sauntered across the room, clad only in his worn
jeans with his chest bare and his long hair loose. Remus followed him to the
bed, where Harry lay on his stomach, naked and wetting his lips as he watched
them.
"Harry?" croaked Remus, blinking.
"Professor Lupin," said Harry, grinning as he propped himself up on his elbows.
Remus squeezed his eyes shut. "No, I told you not to call me that. It's not
appropriate for me to–"
"Relax, Professor," said Sirius, moving over to him and running a light hand
down his back. "None of this is appropriate," he whispered in Remus's ear, "but
that's never stopped us before, has it?"
"He was my student," protested Remus, pointing at the bed, "and he's James's
son, your godson, our responsibility. We can't just–"
"But we can, Moony." Sirius's warm words floated over Remus's skin as his lips
followed, pressing soft but urgent kisses up Remus's neck and jaw line before
capturing his mouth. Sirius grasped Remus's head in his hands and deepened the
kiss, and Remus found himself responding as he always did, unable to resist
Sirius at moments like this. "He needs you," Sirius whispered against Remus's
lips, soft and inviting, as he began to unbutton Remus's shirt. "He's a
werewolf now, remember? He needs to know what it's like."
A tiny kernel of doubt crept in from the back of Remus's mind, fluttering
around the edges of his consciousness in a way he couldn't pinpoint. He's not a
werewolf. This isn't real. He glanced over at the bed again to find Harry still
stretched out, though, and shook his head a bit to clear it. Why was he having
doubts? That was selfish of him. Sirius was right: if Harry was a werewolf now,
he deserved to know, first-hand, how his body was going to react to certain
things – things like sex and arousal and the blind need werewolves had to fuck
and get fucked. He took a deep breath, approaching the bed. "Is that true,
Harry?" he asked quietly, the tips of his fingers ghosting up Harry's naked
back as he stood beside the bed. "Do you need to know what it's like?"
Harry closed his eyes and arched up into the touch, pulling his bottom lip in
under his teeth before nodding. "My body's different, isn't it?" he murmured,
his eyes wide as they moved between Remus and Sirius. "It can handle–" he wet
his lips again – "more than it could before, right?"
The kernel of doubt slid out of reach, like a lonely drop of water spiralling
down the shower drain, as the lust of the wolf overtook Remus's rational mind.
The scent of young, fresh werewolf assaulted him, rising off Harry's body in
waves, and underneath the promise of acquiescence was a small hint of
challenge, the tiniest bit of emotion that Harry evidently hadn't been able to
hide, and which told Remus that learning from an older teacher wasn't all the
boy had in mind for the night. If he was to learn how werewolves fuck, he
wasn't going to do it quietly, not without challenging the alpha first. The
very thought of it stiffened all the muscles in Remus's body and quickened his
heart rate.
"Hear that, Moony?" said Sirius, flashing him a grin. "He can handle more. What
do you think that means, by the way?" The playful grin spread across his face
as he unzipped his jeans and shoved them down. "Tell us, Harry. Are you talking
about pain? Or about stamina? Or maybe just about cock." Naked now, he strolled
over to the bed and crawled onto it, his hands already sliding over the backs
of Harry's legs and over his arse and lower back. Wasting no time, he straddled
Harry and let his dick slide lightly over Harry's cleft. "Is it just that you
can handle more cock, kid, now that you're a wolf?"
Harry groaned, pushing himself up on his knees and rocking back to meet Sirius,
who wrapped his arms around him from behind.
The two of them were a sight, dark hair flowing together and long, youthful
limbs a beautiful contrast to Sirius's broader frame. Taking a step back, Remus
unbuttoned his shirt and began to push it off his shoulders, his eyes still
intent on the bed. "So," Remus said, as Harry continued to writhe under
Sirius's hands, "he thinks he can take more cock, just because he's a wolf,
does he?"
Harry turned his head towards Remus and wet his lips, a slow grin spreading
over his face. "You sound surprised," he teased. "What, you don't want Sirius's
cock up your arse, hard and slow, when the moon gets closer?"
Dropping his shirt to the floor and placing his hands on his hips, Remus glared
down at the figures on the bed. "No," he said quietly. "When the moon gets
closer, on a night like tonight–" he glanced over to the window and then back
at Harry – "I want to pin him down and fuck him until he can't move." He held
Harry's gaze and took in the tremor that rippled through him.
Sirius groaned and laughed softly at the same time, his voice thick as his
hands moved up Harry's back. "I can testify to that," he murmured, nuzzling the
back of Harry's neck. "But right now, wolf or no, you're the youngest one here,
which means–"
"–we get to do what we want with you," Remus finished, sharing a look with
Sirius.
"God, yes," moaned Harry, falling back down to the bed on his stomach and
closing his eyes, his cheek mashed into the pillow. Curling over his back,
Sirius reached between his legs with a murmured spell and began to touch him,
lightly at first, from Remus's vantage point, and then pushing deeper. His
fingers slid over Harry's balls and then further back, disappearing between his
legs as Sirius's bicep flexed and Harry's mouth fell open.
"Do you feel that, wolf?" murmured Remus, still standing beside the bed with
his hands on his hips, his head tilted to the side for a better view of
Sirius's movements.
Harry began to lift his hips as Sirius's fingers pressed in and out of him, and
soon he had lifted himself up to his elbows once more, bending his knees and
pushing back on Sirius's hand. Sirius's arm worked rhythmically, holding Remus
spellbound, the slow pump of it in and out of Harry's body like a drifting
pendulum swing, each one causing Harry's moans to drop lower and last longer.
"Sirius is going to get you ready for me," said Remus, his voice still as quiet
but firm as he could manage against the arousal coursing through him. "He's
going to take you first, Harry, make you wet and dirty for me to follow him. Do
you want that? Normally I prefer to break in new wolves myself," he added, not
waiting for Harry's reply, "but in this case, I'm willing to make an exception.
It's nice of me, isn't it, Padfoot?"
Sirius glanced over at him and grinned, his face melting into that expression
of pure wickedness that only a true Marauder could pull off so innocently, and
Remus felt his own smile tug at his lips in response. Oh yes, the wolf inside
Remus was going to enjoy this spectacle very much indeed, his lover preparing
the new wolf for the alpha, the three of them collaborating to ensure Harry was
thoroughly debauched in every way, before sending him out to the packs.
Wait.
Remus paused, one hand scrubbing at his face as his brain skipped a beat. The
room fell into shadow for a brief moment, the edges blurring and the figures of
Harry and Sirius melting from the bed.
In their place, for just one second, one brief lightning flash of a second, a
monster appeared on the bed. He was kneeling, his clothing tight around his
broad frame and ripped at the knees and elbows.
Send Harry out to the packs. Harry was to go with Remus on his liaising
missions, the two werewolves representing the Order, to try to –
The image of the monster flashed once more over the bed, his lips curled in a
nasty grin as he moved forward, closing the distance between himself and Remus.
Send Harry out to –
Send him –
They would rip him apart; he was too young. They would see and smell only fresh
meat, the untarnished flesh of youth. They would want to taste him, penetrate
him, make him bleed. He wouldn't be ready for that unless Remus made him ready,
Remus and Sirius both.
Right, yes. That was it.
Comforted by this thought, Remus blinked again and refocused as the colour
seeped back into the room before him, the image of the monster disappearing
with a faint pop and the bed once again occupied by Harry and Sirius. Sirius's
mouth was moving, forming syllables Remus couldn't hear until they slowly rose
in volume, like a dial being turned up.
"–so good, Moony, God, you won't even be ready for this, for how good he is. So
tight." Sirius stopped talking and groaned, falling over Harry's back again and
shoving his hips forward. Remus moved closer to the bed and reached for his
belt as he walked, craning his neck a bit to get a better view of what was
happening on the bed. Harry was curled nearly into a ball, his bent knees
pressing into the mattress and brushing up against his chest, his cheek mashed
against the pillows and his fists tight in the sheets. Sirius's prick stabbed
into him, deep and quick, his fingers curved over Harry's shoulders for
leverage as he hauled himself forward, over and over again.
It was a lovely sight, Remus couldn't help but think, the boy flushed and
moaning as his godfather took him, shoving deep inside him and muttering over
his back about how good he was, how tight and compliant and oh so eager for
cock. Remus pushed his own trousers down and stepped out of them, pausing to
sweep a hand over his cock and gasping at the contact. His arousal only grew in
intensity the more he watched the scene in front of him.
"Let me see," he instructed Sirius quietly, moving behind him as Sirius threw a
grin over his shoulder at Remus, repositioning himself to allow Remus a better
view. He bent down and grazed his lips over Sirius's bare shoulder as he
watched, Sirius sitting back on his heels and dragging his cock free of Harry's
body, a slow, wet slide that left the boy quivering. Pausing outside his
entrance, Sirius trailed his hands down from Harry's shoulders to his hips
before pushing back in again, closing his eyes and gasping together with Remus
as they both watched. Sirius's prick disappeared inside Harry's body once more,
and Remus had to restrain himself from biting down too hard on Sirius's
shoulder. "Harder," he whispered. "If he's really a wolf, he'll be able to take
it."
Sirius tilted his head back and laughed at that, low and cruel. "Are you really
a wolf, Harry?" he growled, thrusting in deep.
"God," choked Harry, pushing back to meet him, his face pink and his eyes
squeezed shut.
"Only a wolf could take us both like you're going to," Sirius continued,
increasing his pace and slamming forward into Harry, forcing him down further
on the bed and digging his fingers into the boy's hips.
"Harder," Remus murmured again, dragging the tip of his tongue up Sirius's neck
and biting at his earlobe. "Fill him up for me."
That did it. With a long, deep groan, Sirius clutched at Harry's hips and
stilled, pouring himself into the boy's body as his eyes fell shut and his body
shuddered with release. Beneath him, Harry gasped and cried out, and Remus's
own prick swelled at the thought of what Harry must be feeling at that moment,
full and filthy and thoroughly fucked, his godfather's prick softening inside
him.
"Stay there, Harry," said Remus, his voice quiet but firm. Sirius sighed and
began to pull back, his cock slipping free of Harry's body with a wet sound.
Come trailed down the back of Harry's thigh, and his knees gave way as he
collapsed down to the bed. Panting, Sirius rose from the bed and wet his lips,
his eyes flashing at Remus as a slow smile danced at the corners of his mouth.
He leaned in to kiss Remus, pushing one hand around the back of Remus's neck
and pulling him in close, their tongues tangling and their mouths moving
together.
"Your turn," Sirius murmured to him when they broke apart, glancing down at
Harry, and Remus felt all the bloodlust of the wolf pool low in his body. He
climbed onto the bed, appraising the boy with newfound appreciation.
"So, my young wolf," he said softly, his fingers light over Harry's back, "are
you ready to be trained properly, to prepare for what the packs are going to do
to you when we get out there?" He slid his hand lower, working into Harry's
cleft and trailing his fingers through Sirius's come, anticipating the boy's
gasps of pleasure and moans of encouragement.
But Harry neither gasped nor moaned.
All of a sudden, he pushed himself to his knees and rose up, turning on the bed
to face Remus with wide eyes. "Occlumency," he whispered furiously, his face
grave and his lips parted. Breathing hard, he held Remus's eyes, searching
them. "Come on, Remus," he pleaded. "You can do this. Say the spell. Shield
your mind. You have to."
The image before him jolted again, Harry disappearing and buzzing back in place
like a Wizarding photograph taken with the wrong kind of film. His movements
were jumpy, erratic. Remus pinched his thumb and forefinger over his brow for a
second before looking up again. There, that was better. Harry had fallen down
to the bed again and was lazily stroking his cock, grinning up at Remus as his
lips moved around syllables Remus couldn't hear.
"–to fuck me or what, Professor?" he was saying, as the sound filtered back in.
"Or is the old wolf all bark and no bite?" A grin as wicked as Sirius's spread
over Harry's face, taunting the wolf in Remus and encouraging him to push back
all his doubts again and press himself across Harry's back.
He shoved his cock into the tight space between Harry's legs, nudging at his
balls and sliding forward with a low growl, as his lips sought the back of
Harry's neck. "No bite?" he muttered, his teeth grazing the soft skin. "Careful
what you wish for, Harry."
"Oh, fuck yes. Bite him." Sirius sat back down on the bed again near Harry's
face, pulling the boy up for a deep kiss. He threaded his fingers through
Harry's already-messy hair and pulled back from his lips reluctantly, Harry
still leaning in towards him for more. Sirius glanced over Harry's head at
Remus. "Can't hurt him, can you?" he said wickedly, licking his lips. "The pair
of you can't bite me, of course, or I'll have your bollocks, but how about a
little wolf play for me, Moony?" He grinned, and Remus felt the power of it
down to the tips of his toes. He was always helpless to resist Sirius when he
got like this, so firm about telling Remus exactly what he wanted. "Tear him
up," Sirius continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Make him bleed."
A surge of desire slammed through Remus's body at that. He reached down and
grabbed his prick, moving it up from between Harry's legs to press into his
entrance. The way was still eased from Sirius earlier, having already fucked
the boy wide open, and Remus shoved himself inside even as Harry groaned and
collapsed down into Sirius's arms at the head of the bed.
"Professor," moaned Harry, his fingers clutching at Sirius's biceps as Remus
thrust into him from behind.
God, the boy felt good. His body opened so nicely under Remus's assault,
spreading for him and acquiescing to the wolf, making those delicious
whimpering noises and pushing back to meet Remus at every thrust. The scent of
young wolf rolled off Harry's body, the purple wound at his neck standing out
starkly against his pale skin, and Remus found himself fixating on it, his eyes
drawn to that mark like nothing else. If he could just taste him, just
experience that sensation of his teeth sinking into young wolf flesh and
ripping, tearing it away and savouring it in his mouth, if he could just lean
down once, only once, and feel the jerk of Harry's body as Remus flooded his
insides with come and took a chunk of his flesh in his mouth, then everything
would be okay, everything would– he could just– if only he –
His fingernails scraped down Harry's sides as he hauled himself forward,
burying himself inside the boy and dropping his head to that delightful, pale
shoulder.
"Do it, Moony," Sirius was murmuring, his gaze locked on Harry's skin just
under Remus's mouth. "Come on."
"Remus!" Harry whipped his head around with wild eyes and shouted the name, and
Remus froze. "Don't you dare bite me. Don't you dare. This isn't real. You know
it isn't. Please, listen to me!"
Swallowing and blinking, Remus's chest heaved and his dick throbbed where it
was lodged in Harry's arse. "Harry. What are you– just–" He squeezed his eyes
closed. "Do you not want this? I– I would never do this if you didn't want it.
I can't–"
Harry's voice softened. "Of course I want it," he breathed. "Both of you, like
this?" He almost laughed, glancing between Remus and Sirius. "My every wank
fantasy come true, God." His gaze hardened as his smile faded. "But not like
this. I'm not a wolf; you knowI'm not! You have to take your mind back. They
want you to bite me. If you can do it in the dream, you can do it in reality.
They want me to bleed, Remus, don't you see it? You can– you– don't give in to–
I– need to–"
The image fogged again, Harry's speech interrupted by static and a sharp
buzzing in Remus's ears, and he dug his fingers further into Harry's hips to
prove to himself that the body underneath him was real, that this was really
happening.
"It's not really happening!" protested Harry again, as if reading his mind.
"Remus, listen to me!"
"Harder, Moony. God, yes, look at how much he wants it."
As if the speed of the action had increased again, back to normal, the scene
resumed around him, Sirius murmuring encouragement and Harry writhing
underneath him on the bed.
"Please, Professor," panted Harry. "Come inside me, just like Sirius. Want to
feel you both, want to– oh, God."
At that, Sirius reached underneath Harry and wrapped a hand around his dick,
stroking it roughly and nuzzling his face against the boy's hair again as Remus
slowly drew his cock out of Harry's body, watching with fascination and
confusion as it appeared, dark and glistening, and then with a long, slow
breath, he steadied himself to push inside again. Don't bite him. The words
flitted across his mind, and he creased his brow to shake them free. Desire
him, take him, come all over him, but do not bite him.
On instinct, he glanced over at the corner of the room to see the monster
lurking in the shadows, his hulking frame dwarfing the nearby chair. Remus
closed his eyes and tried to concentrate.
Get out of my head.
Smirking, the monster began to inch forward, hands the size of dinner plates
swinging at his sides, and as he stepped into the beam of light streaming in
from the window, Remus caught a good look at his face.
Get out, Greyback. He focused all his energies on repelling the monster. You
cannot have the boy, and you cannot have me.
His smirk fading, the monster tried to take another step forward but could not,
his foot lodged in mid-air.
He's mine to protect.
Remus's body pounded with tension and aggression and the blind lust of surging
into Harry while trying to repel the darkness in his mind, and after what
seemed like ages, the monster began to move backwards again, retreating to the
corner of the room.
Remus clutched at Harry, covering his body as though what they were doing would
be enough to protect him, and focusing his mind once more, he gazed at the
corner of the room. Pushing himself as far as he could, he saw a tall figure
begin to take shape behind the retreating monster, long, pale fingers curling
over the monster's shoulder and hauling him back.
"Useless!" a cold voice spat. "I've no time for this. Will he maul the boy or
not?"
Sweat dripping from his brow, Remus raised a shaking hand and wiped his face,
narrowing his eyes at the image in the corner even as he continued to thrust
into Harry's body.
"No," the monster admitted, his voice thick and rough with annoyance. "Let me
try again; let me–"
"Silence," the cold voice hissed, and then a sharp pain sliced through Remus's
head as red eyes locked on his, seeming to stare at him from the corner of his
own bedroom. In another second, the eyes slid over him and Harry and moved on
to Sirius, sweeping up his body as he cradled Harry against him. At last, he
turned back to the monster. "The plan has changed. I need the boy...
untouched."
Get out.
With another spike of pain through his head, Remus squeezed his eyes closed and
focused all his energies on expelling the figures. When he opened his eyes
again, the monster and the thin figure had begun to fade completely into
shadow. Remus glanced over at them and frowned, concentrating all his remaining
energy on pushing them away. His expression a mixture of rage and fear, the
monster fell into shades of grey before melting away entirely, until he was
only a swirl of dust that sank into the carpet and disappeared, the thin figure
following him.
Remus shook his head to clear it, before glancing back down at the body
shuddering underneath him.
"Come on, Remus," Sirius was whispering, his chest heaving and his hand still
working Harry's prick. "Come inside him. He wants you to. He's always wanted
it."
God, this was insane. This was a mess. Remus's blood sped up, slamming through
his body as he looked down again and pumped into Harry, relishing the boy's
uncharacteristic cries of God, yes, Professor Lupin! and riding the torrent of
shame and confusion and deep, aching desire that filled him whenever he thought
about Harry. With a final, choked moan, he dug his fingernails into the boy's
hips and hauled himself forward, freezing in place as his orgasm pulsed out of
him. He felt himself fill the boy up, spurting deep inside him and sullying
everything about him he and Sirius had both sworn to protect, and the thrill of
it shot through his nerve endings and bathed him in cold pleasure.
From underneath him, Sirius pulled his hand away from Harry covered in come,
bringing it up to his mouth and slowly licking it clean as Harry collapsed to
the bed, grinning and moaning out a disbelieving laugh. He flopped over onto
his back as Remus sat back on his heels, still breathing hard.
"You did it, Moony," Sirius said softly, crawling over to him and leaning in to
give Remus a long, slow kiss. "You pushed them back."
"I– I don't know what I did." Remus glanced around at the pile of sheets torn
free of the bed and at the three naked bodies still panting and flushed on top
of it.
"You pushed them back," Sirius assured him. "You made this your dream, not
theirs."
Smiling at him, Harry worked himself into a sitting position, struggling for a
second to free himself from a tangle of damp sheets. Sirius wrapped an arm
around Harry and gazed down at him, the worry lines seeming to fade from his
face. He leaned in and brushed a kiss across Harry's lips, and when he pulled
back, he let his free hand cup Remus's cheek.
"You are both brilliant," he said softly. "Loyal, honest, and dead fucking
sexy." He grinned at them, and despite himself, Remus found himself smiling
back. He leaned in and kissed Harry's forehead as Sirius spoke, and the boy
seemed to melt in their joint embrace. "You've got much better at this
Occlumency thing, though," Sirius added to Remus, his smile faltering. "Make
sure Harry keeps practicing. Not with Snape," he added, his face darkening.
"Fucking prick. But with you. With someone, anyone. His mind isn't as strong as
yours yet, Moony. You'll have to help him." Sirius rose from the bed and
grabbed his jeans.
"But what are you– where are–" Remus paused, a growing alarm in his chest as
Sirius moved towards the door. "Why are you leaving us here? You could still– I
mean, we could–"
"I think I have to go," said Sirius, his voice soft as he hauled his jeans on.
He looked puzzled but determined, nodding to himself after casting about the
room. With one last glance back at them, Sirius reached for the door handle but
never turned it. Instead, he simply faded through it, as though the wood itself
had absorbed him. His voice floated back into the dark bedroom. "I love you
both," it said, and Remus's eyes widened in alarm.
"No!"
With a strangled shout, Remus sat bolt upright on the living room sofa, his
eyes blurred from the dream and caked with crust.
A wave of nausea passed through him, his head pounding and his breath absent
entirely, until he tried to speak and ended up coughing, hitting himself in the
chest and taking deep breaths with his head between his knees.
He glanced quickly around the living room, which was just as quiet and solitary
as it had been when he had fallen asleep. Bloody, fucking hell. His heart still
pounding, he pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and tried to get his
bearings.
"Remus!" His eyes wild and his face paler than Remus had ever seen it, Sirius
threw the living room door open and skidded inside, his chest heaving. "Come
on. Now. We have to go." He paused to swallow. "The Order's going to follow."
"What?" Remus jumped to his feet and swayed, leaning back to grab the edge of
the sofa for support. "What's going on?"
Sirius was already halfway out the door again, but he called back over his
shoulder, his voice trembling. "Message from Snape. Harry's left the school,
trying to get to the Department of Mysteries. The Death Eaters are after him,
Moony! Come on. We've got to get to him first."
Remus stared after him for five long, thudding seconds before his brain could
catch up, and then he ran as fast as he could, only one thing on his mind:
Harry.
                                      ***
Phase 5: Revelation
"So, have your aunt and uncle been feeling suitably threatened?" Remus's voice
floated over the currents of the Hogwarts lake, sounding hollow in his own
ears.
Harry snorted. "Yeah. You lot can be pretty intimidating."
It was a pleasant day, all things considered. The sun was out and the clouds
seemed rightly chastised about staying away. A light breeze swept up the shore,
but for July, it certainly could have been cooler.
"I'm sorry we couldn't talk more then," added Remus. "They got you back to the
school so quickly after– well. And then, with your aunt and uncle there, I
didn't really have a chance to talk to you at the station."
"Yeah. I know." Harry swallowed. "It's okay."
"I know this isn't ideal," continued Remus, gesturing his hand at their
surroundings, "but it was the best place I could think of for us to talk for a
moment. Professor Dumbledore agreed to it, but only for an hour. I'm–" He
sighed, dropping his hand. "I'm sorry I've not been able to help you more."
The boy was quiet.
"I– how are you, then?" Remus shoved his hands in his pockets and kept his eyes
staring straight ahead, jealous for a moment of the lazy ripples of the lake.
Beside him, Harry had adopted the same stance. He shrugged at the question,
lowering his head.
"Right, well, it'll be– hard." Remus swallowed. "Might take some time before
you can talk about–"
"Angry."
Remus glanced over at the boy, who met his gaze quickly before turning away
again.
"To answer your question."
Ah. Remus scratched at his forehead before returning that hand to his pocket.
"Angry," he repeated softly. "Yes. Me too."
Harry turned to him again. "You're not going to tell me not to be angry? That
it was fate, some divine plan, or something?"
"Is that what everyone else is telling you?"
Harry kicked at a stone and took his hands out of his pockets, folding them
defiantly over his chest. He nodded.
Sighing, Remus bent to pick up a rock, hurtling it out over the water and
relishing the disruptive splash it made. "I'm not going to tell you how to
feel, no," he said quietly as the ripples spread and then settled. "I can only
tell you that he loved you. More than anything." He pressed his lips together,
still gazing out at the lake.
"He loved you, too."
Remus turned to find Harry glancing at him, his face flushed. "Yes, he did," he
said slowly, "but the two are not mutually exclusive." He turned back towards
the lake.
"No, I know, I just meant–"
"He loved you," repeated Remus, his voice firm. "That's all that matters."
Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Harry's head snap towards him. "What's
that supposed to mean?"
Remus frowned. "It means what it means. That the only thing you have to know
is–"
"Bollocks!"
Remus glanced at the boy, whose face was quickly colouring.
"There's a lot more than that I'd like to know," he bit out, breathing hard
through flaring nostrils.
"Harry, listen to me," Remus began, but Harry cut him off.
"You know what I know," insisted Harry, his eyes pleading. In the next breath,
he dropped his voice to a whisper. "You know what I saw."
Remus opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again. "No, I don't,"
insisted Remus, "and even if I did, this isn't the time," he muttered.
"So I'm supposed to ask Dumbledore about it?" said Harry, his voice rising.
"You were in my head, Remus! I don't understand how– and then, the vision of
Sirius– it was all so real, I just–"
Remus's heart sped up as he listened, his brow creasing as he tried to think of
what to tell the boy. "I know about what happened between the two of you," he
began, not at all sure that this was the right place to start. "But I don't
want you feeling– I don't know. Ashamed or, or jealous, or I don't know.
Anything like that about it."
Harry's mouth clamped shut, and his eyes darted from side to side. "You know
because he told you, or you know because you saw it?"
Remus glanced at him. "I didn't see it." He tried to push down the rising
images of Sirius with the boy, or of Remus's dreams about the three of them, or
of all the fantasies he and Sirius had voiced to each other. "He told me. We–
we didn't keep secrets from each other, Harry. But you already knew that,
didn't you?" he added. "Why don't you tell me what you've seen?"
"Oh, God," groaned Harry, covering his face with one hand, all his rage seeming
to melt into a puddle on the grass as his shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry," he
mumbled, running the hand up through his hair and then gesturing vaguely in
front of them. "I mean, I know you two were– were just– well. I didn't mean to
come between–"
"You didn't," Remus interrupted. "But I'd like you to answer the question."
Harry turned to him, his face expectant even through the layers of black
sagging under his eyes.
Already knowing the answer, Remus prompted Harry anyway. "Did you ever have any
other visions these past few months, not of Arthur or the snake or the others
you told Professor Dumbledore about, but– other things?"
Harry looked up at him, his face pale as his tongue sneaked out to wet his
bottom lip. Likely without his intent, his gaze dropped down Remus's body and
back up, and his chest began to rise and fall a bit faster. "Yes," he
whispered.
"Was I in them?" Remus pressed, and the boy nodded, his breathing accelerating
even further.
"You and Sirius and– and Moony, and me, and a lot of– things," he stammered,
his face colouring, and Remus nearly choked on the tide of disbelief and shame
and arousal that welled up in him.
"So, it was true," he murmured under his breath. "You saw all of that." When he
looked up at Harry, he wanted to reach out and brush a lock of hair out of
Harry's eyes, but he didn't dare.
"God," moaned Harry, one hand squeezing his temples. "Yeah. I don't know if it
was all of it, but it was– a lot. What–" He glanced up again, his brow
creasing. "That couldn't have been Voldemort, could it?"
Sighing, Remus said, "I'm not sure, Harry, but that's something we're going to
need to figure out. We're linked somehow, in ways even Sirius didn't quite
understand." He felt the boy tremble beside him at the sound of Sirius's name,
and he placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "Voldemort opened your
mind, and Greyback opened mine. Somehow the rules of that got bent a bit, and
we–" He made a vague back-and-forth gesture with his free hand. "Were you– that
is to say–" he cleared his throat – "were you terribly alarmed by the things
you saw, the places your mind went?" He could barely bring himself to look at
the boy until he answered.
"Alarmed?" Harry's eyes grew wide. "God, no. I was– oh my God. You were– I
mean, the pair of you were just so brilliant." For a brief moment, Remus saw
the grief fade away from the lines of Harry's face, replaced by memories that
clearly calmed him. Remus could barely believe the boy wouldn't be scarred for
life by all of this. He watched Harry carefully as he paused, wetting his lips
again and gazing at Remus shyly. "Is it– I mean, is it true that you were
thinking of– of me, or was that just the visions?"
Harry's chest rose and fell rhythmically, his eyes wide and his tone hopeful.
This entire conversation could not have been more inappropriate; Remus could
scarcely believe they were even having it, but he recognised the need in
Harry's voice. He couldn't take more bad news right now, anything that could be
construed as rejection. Remus found he couldn't have lied even if he'd wanted
to. "It was true," murmured Remus, staring out at the lake again as he felt
Harry's hand slip into his. Startled, he glanced down at their joined fingers
and then back up to Harry's face, searching it. "It was true for both of us
separately, and both of us together. We– well." He scratched at his jaw with
his free hand. "We both fell a little bit in love with you, I think," he
whispered.
Harry's hand squeezed his, and when he dared glance at the boy again, he found
much of the fear and pain fading away, replaced by an untroubled look of peace.
"Me too," he said quietly, and Remus smiled sadly, brushing his thumb over the
back of the boy's hand.
"This isn't– I mean– you're still very young," stammered Remus, but when he
tried to pull his hand away, Harry held it fast.
"And I've fought Voldemort four times now, and seen people die, and made an
awful lot of decisions that were harder than this one," he said, his jaw set.
After a moment's pause, while Remus tried to figure out what to say, Harry
spoke again. "He's really gone, isn't he?"
A wave of grief washing over him anew, Remus nodded. His hand trembled where
Harry held it.
"Then I won't lose you as well."
Remus's head jerked over to the boy, taking in the telltale determination on
his face. Stubborn bloody bastard. He sighed despite himself, a small smile
tugging at his lips. "You won't," he assured him. "But Harry–"
"No more talking," Harry interrupted, moving closer until their arms and the
sides of their legs were touching above and below their still-joined hands.
"Just this now, okay?" He glanced down at their hands and smiled, raising his
gaze again to Remus.
The lazy rhythm of the water brushed against the shore, and for the first time
in months, Remus felt his mind relax, emptying of all tension and then filling
up with visions of their present moment. It was enough. "Okay." Squeezing
Harry's hand, he nodded. "Just this."
 
                                     -fin-
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