Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/93852.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Sirius_Black/Remus_Lupin
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Sirius_Black, Remus_Lupin
  Additional Tags:
      Hurt/Comfort, Questionable_Consent
  Collections:
      The_Quidditch_Pitch
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-06-11 Words: 6533
****** Duende ******
by Cluegirl
Summary
     On his first night at Grimmauld Place, Harry discovers that he and
     his father share a strange allergy. Luckily, Remus and Sirius are
     there to help see him through.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
All Harry could remember later was that he'd been dreaming of walking.
Something about a corridor and possibly candles, though it could also have been
blue eyes gleaming in the dark. He had put out his hand to push a door, he
thought, when suddenly there was a furious buzzing. The dream shattered into a
hundred black fragments which swarmed hissing and whirring around him. Then
before he could react at all, a piece of the dream took hold of his right ear
and bit down hard.
Harry yelped, waving his arms about his head as the things, all glittering
black shell and snapping teeth in the moonlight, dove at his face. He could
feel them clinging to his pajamas, his robe, his hair, scratching and snapping
as they tried to get to him. A bright spot of pain bloomed on his thumb,
another on his wrist before he could shake free. Harry cursed, swatting the
tiny creatures off him as he stumbled across the strange, dim room, crushing a
few into the dusty carpet as he went.
He made it to the door, gasping, angry, and more than a little frightened. The
swarm didn't seem to have followed him, preferring to buzz around the thin rind
of moonlight slashing through the curtain where Harry had first disturbed them.
He fumbled in his robe pocket for his wand, then yelped as his hand was bitten
again. Furious, he shook the thing loose, sending his wand clattering against
the wall with a sparking glitter.
The thing hissed, baring row upon row of shiny teeth as it fluttered out of
Harry's reach. Then it dove again, but it wasn't as fast as a snitch. Even with
both hands burning and sore, Harry had no trouble snatching the struggling
thing from the air. It bit him again, and Harry took a furious pleasure in
hurling it point blank at the oaken door. It gave a squeak and a crack as it
hit, but then it fluttered to the ground and buzzed no more.
Breath coming hard, Harry shook his head, trying to clear it. He didn't know
what the mad little things were, but he knew he didn't feel … right now. There
was a buzzing in his ears that had nothing to do with the swarm across the
room, and a heat and a soreness inside him that made Harry want...
He shook his head again. "What was that thing?" he murmured aloud, stooping
dizzily to look at the one he'd killed. It was shiny, small, and black, and
he'd known all that before, when it was still chewing on him. He picked the
thing up and swayed to his feet. Professor Lupin would know, he decided. And
he'd probably also know what to do about the heat/pain/sore/good/itch/ache/
want/fear that was curling like smoke in Harry's hands and belly and-
Harry shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut tight. What was he doing here
again? Ears ringing with blood, he pushed the door back. Looking for Professor
Lupin. That's what he was doing. Looking for the Professor, because he was hot,
and his robe kept tangling about his knees and making him stumble, and he
didn't want to do that because that would make the pictures wake up and he
didn't want to be screamed at with his head ringing already, and the sweat
going suddenly cold on his naked chest, and--
Naked?
Harry turned, peered muzzily at his nightclothes scattered down the hallway.
That was his robe hanging off the stuffed wyvern head, wasn't it? And his
pajamas, where had they gone? He couldn't wander about in just his pants, not
with the sweat making them cling to his arse and ride up tight against his
bollocks that way -- what if someone saw him? What would they think of Harry
wandering the house with his cock stiff and poking out of his pants/hand, with
the red tip peeking over his red fist, red because they both felt sore, his
hand and his cock, and hot and hard and hungry at the same time. But the angle
was awkward with his left hand -- he couldn't quite pull fast enough, hard
enough to outstrip the building itch that was creeping like fire under his
skin.
He moved to switch his grip, then remembered. The thing. The bites. He was
finding Professor Lupin. He wasn't standing about wanking in the downstairs
hallway of a sleeping house; he was finding his Professor, who would know what
he needed. He was finding his Professor, who would know how to help him.
You don't know where he is, Harry, something sensible whispered in his ear as
he tugged himself around by the cock to continue his search, What are you going
to do, wander about wanking yourself and knocking on doors with your elbow?
You're out of hands, mate!
"Shut up," he told the sensible thing, but he did manage to let go of himself
all the same. "I'll find Sirius. It's his house. He'll know where Professor
Lupin's room is."
Oh, that's a good idea! Because God knows Sirius won't mind you poncing about
his house with your prick drooling on the bloody carpets while you look for his
best mate's bedroom!
"Shut it!" Harry growled, and shook the limp creature in his right fist at the
surrounding darkness, "Just... what's that?" He squinted, tracking the warm
yellow gleam from the glass-fronted case beside him. It was coming from beneath
that door, and as Harry padded toward it, the line of light crept like a velvet
caress over his toes. He gasped, paused to wiggle the digits -- bare, for his
socks were somewhere down the hall -- luxuriantly. He hadn't known his feet
were cold, or that light could feel so very nice on them.
Harry shuffled closer, thinking to press his glittering, sparking toes right up
against the gleam. Perhaps they would catch fire and tickle, he mused, leaning
his forehead against the gritty wood of the door, just like all those witches
and wizards burned at the stake in Professor Binns' class. Harry supposed he
might very much like to be tickled just then.
The door shifted. Shifted, and then swung back, and Harry was bathed in a
sudden simmering wash of firelight. It roared across his skin and he shivered a
moan, cock leaping, bollocks tightening.
"Fuck, Moony," a needy voice growled, "Now, all right? Just bloody now!"
And Harry had to agree. Now was an excellent time for it. The light was tight
around him, stroking rough and bright along his skin with every breath, making
the itch burn hotter, as though it was desperate to get out. Shaking, Harry
pressed harder toward the light, nudged the door back farther and let himself
into the fire.
===============================================================================
There was something about fucking in a library, Sirius always thought, that
just seemed to get to Remus. Maybe it was the smell of the moldering books that
made him randy, maybe it was the idea of befouling stately, conservative
furniture, or the irreverent affront to the ages of learning hidden just behind
those leather shells that made Remus so wholly, completely, irresistibly
fuckable.
Or maybe it was that Sirius found himself completely incapable of keeping his
hands off the man whenever he put on those little glasses of his and hunched
over a volume in the candlelight. Maybe it was that whenever Sirius found
himself alone in a silent room with his oldest friend, all he could think about
was filling up that silence with something stickier, sweatier, and easier to
hold onto. He'd had more than his share of silence anyway, hadn't he?
Of course, beyond a token resistance, Remus never really seemed to mind it when
Sirius would slither across the tufted leather sofa, nuzzle his way underneath
whatever dusty tome he'd chosen for the night, and proceed to suck his command
of the English language right out through his cock.
"I'm never going to get through this," Remus groaned on this particular
occasion, burying his fingers deep in Sirius's hair, "if you don't stop -- ah
Merlin, Padfoot, don't stop -- distracting me."
"Mmmn" Sirius groaned, feeling his palate flutter against the soft intrusion of
Remus's cock and relishing the way that made his lover's eyes roll back in his
head, "Don' shee pro'lm wi' tha'." He pulled loose with a slurping lick, and
grinned over the edge of the book, "Onieros Aurorus isn't going anywhere, is
it?"
Moony pointedly turned a single page. Sirius, never one to refuse a challenge,
swallowed his cock again. A moment later, Moony groaned and the heavy book
slithered over Sirius's shoulder, landing with a thud on the library carpet.
Things moved fast from there. Clothing was flung aside, hasty silencing charms
were mixed liberally with desperate, sloppy kisses, skin was mapped with
tongues and hands and teeth. It seemed barely moments until Sirius was bracing
himself on the sofa's padded arm, shoving back on Remus's slicked fingers and
begging for it.
"Easy, Padfoot," Remus said, though his voice was rough with want and his damp
cock smeared eagerly against the back of Sirius's thigh, "I don't want to hurt
you."
"You're killing me!" he whined, arching his spine as far as he could and
shaking the sweat-sticky hair out of his face. "Fuck me already, you-
- Ohgodricyes," Sirius' breath escaped in a long groan as Remus pressed himself
slowly, deeply in. Stretched him and spread him and nailed him firmly down
amongst the living, because no ghost's dead heart could thunder that hard, and
no ghost's dead nerves could shoot that maddening fire along every single fibre
of his being. Alive. Alive and dribbling precome all over his father's favorite
sofa. Oh, fuck yes.
"YesMoonyyespleaseyes..." Sirius was babbling now, while Remus made no sound at
all -- not a grunt nor a growl as he sheathed himself deep and slow. But Sirius
could feel the tremble as his scarred belly pressed hard against his arse, and
Remus' bollocks nestled tight against his own.
"Yes..." Remus whispered finally, pressing his forehead between Sirius's
straining shoulders. And that was good, that was bliss and heaven, and bloody
well not enough! Sirius whined wordlessly, flexed and fidgeted him into motion
-- a slow, teasing hip-roll at first, but gaining speed, gathering force and
rhythm as it rocked back and forth between them. "So... fucking... good..."
Sirius could hear the wolf deep in Remus' chest, could feel its breath across
his neck as it chased him toward orgasm, toward-
Harry.
FUCK!
Sirius dragged in a startled breath, but Remus's cock shoved hard against his
prostate and shook his yelp loose without the warning words. Blood thundered in
his head, and Remus, snarling at Sirius's sudden rigidity, reached around to
take his cock in a perfect, softly twisting grip. And Harry just... stared,
naked and transfixed, with his cock standing red and hard before him, a bead of
precome adorning it like a single pearl. Sirius gulped as it slipped over the
edge, tripped on the tight-pulled foreskin, and then spun down to the carpet in
a long silver thread. Harry's lips were damply open, his skin flushed and
sheened with sweat, and his eyes... Merlin, his eyes!
"Moony," Sirius grunted, going still, or trying to under the relentless
onslaught, "Moony, please!"
"Godyes, Padfoot," Remus groaned, tugging Sirius toward orgasm as his rhythm
turned halting and jerky and his cock swelled diamond-hard inside, "Going to-"
"Remus!" he yelped, ducking his shoulder away from the grazing teeth, "Remus,
will you fucking-" Remus did that thing with his hips. Sirius gasped, and then
he was coming, coming hard and shaking in the wolf's grasp and all that
remained of his will to speak was a tortured groan. "Harry!"
Remus's shuddering release went pained and still, his breath halted against
Sirius's damp shoulder as his throat bobbed through a dry swallow. "What?"
But Harry, it seemed, had taken his name for a summons. His cock swayed with
each step he padded across the room, like a young, hungry dowsing rod searching
them out.. "Sirius?" Harry's voice was small, confused and lost, "Professor
Lupin?"
Dear Godric! Sirius forced himself to straighten slowly, feeling as though any
sudden move might startle his godson -- who was bloodywell naked, by the way -
- into flight. "Are-" he swallowed, wincing as Remus pulled out of him with a
startled gasp.
Harry's glass-flat eyes flickered up over his shoulder, and Sirius' heart gave
a panicked surge. "Harry!" he called the gaze back, "What are you doing out of
bed?" A simple question, right? Not the one most pressing on his mind, sure,
not a patch on -- What the hell do you mean sneaking in here and spying, where
are your bloody clothes, dear Merlin what must you think of me, what the hell
is wrong with you, why don't you run screaming? -- but it would have to do for
a start.
Harry blinked. Slow and dazed. "I don't... I think something..." He shook his
fist idly, as though reminding himself of something. "Bit me?"
Sirius felt Remus ease himself off the sofa, heard the flutter of a robe as he
rounded the table toward the swaying youth. "Harry, what's that in your hand?"
he asked as Sirius did a quick scramble after his own clothes. "Harry, let me
see it please."
"I don't think I can," Harry's reply was thin and scared; a child's wail.
The sound of it drove every shred of shame out of Sirius's head and sent him
scrambling across the library like a shot. He skidded to his knees on the
carpet, caught Harry's waist to steady him, and held his arm steady while Remus
uncurled his red, swollen fingers. A doxy lay crushed in its gore against the
angry skin, the marks of its teeth black and clear along Harry's thumb.
"Shit, Harry," Sirius hissed, pulling the boy around to lean against his
shoulder, "What would you want to go grabbing a doxy for?" Harry's skin was
fevered and slick, and the smell of the venom rose off him in sharp, sour waves
as he trembled into Sirius's hold. "You poor kid! Remus, get the rubbish can
quick, before he-"
But Remus was turning Harry's head to the light, peering closely at his eyes.
"This isn't right," he muttered, "it shouldn't be-" Harry gave a breathy moan,
and butted his head against Remus's hand as though begging for strokes. "Harry,
do you feel sick?" Remus demanded.
"Feel hot," Harry complained.
"Course he feels sick," Sirius growled, "Look at his ear, and there on his neck
too, and his other hand -- Merlin, Harry, just how many times were you bitten?"
He slid a palm up Harry's back, trying to soothe, trying to reassure, but the
low, animal sound Harry made and his convulsive shiver brought Sirius's mind
straight back to the fact that the boy was naked and he was hard, and his cock,
was weeping for a touch. His narrow chest was flushed, the nipples plumped and
hard, as though a hand or tongue had teased them for hours without mercy.
"Has the vomiting started, Harry?" Remus grabbed Harry's chin while Sirius
shook his attention back to heel, "Have you been sick yet?"
"N-no." Harry's hand, blazing like a torch, ghosted down Sirius's ribs and
grazed the cleft of his arse. No accidental brush, that. It was a caress, as
bold as Harry dared while staring his Professor straight in the face, and it
told Sirius all he needed to know.
"He's not going to puke, Moony," he said, slipping his arm around Harry's back
as he stood, then sweeping the boy up into his arms, "He's allergic, just like
James was. Get my robe over us, will you?"
"Allergic," Remus paused to swear under his breath as Harry snaked his arms
round Sirius's neck and nuzzled close. "That means he can't take the antitoxin
either." He snatched Sirius's robe up from behind the sofa, and draped it
precariously over his shoulders, hooking one of the sleeves over Harry's
dangling foot to keep it from sliding off. "We have to get him to Snape-"
"The devil, you say!" Sirius pulled Harry closer as the boy clutched and
whimpered.
"Sirius, look at him! Harry's going to need an antidote! Something specially
brewed for him, and-"
"Bollocks!" Sirius kicked the door out of his way and strode out into the hall,
whispering angrily under the sleeping portraits. "Jamie never needed that
shite, and neither does Harry." He took the stairs two at a time, rolling
Harry's head up onto his shoulder lest he clip it on the banister as he went.
"We'll help him through it ourselves, Moony -- we know what to do."
"No! Sirius, you can't be-" Remus' steps faltered on the landing, then he
rushed to catch up. "He's just a boy!" He caught Sirius's elbow in a fierce
grip.
"And that's why I'm not turning him over to Snape!" Sirius hissed, shaking
loose, though it left his robe behind in Remus's hands, "It's going to be hard
enough on him just getting through the night, just imagine what Snape would put
him through! Harry deserves better than that from me!"
Footsteps followed, as he'd known they would. "Sirius, we can't just-"
He turned at the attic door, stared his friend -- his lover square in the eyes.
"Get over it, Moony," he said. "Just get over it. Because Harry needs our help.
OUR help, as in yours and mine, and so help me, we are not letting him down!"
Jaws clenched, they stared each other down. They both were right, and they both
knew it, just like they knew that this confrontation had to happen before
either of them could move on to what Harry needed from them. Just like they
both knew that they would move on to it.
"Please..." the boy whimpered, rutting after what little friction he could find
between his cock and Sirius's naked chest. "Ohgodplease!" Sirius curled him
closer with a kiss to his wild, sweaty hair, all the while holding Remus's
stare.
"It isn't right," Remus looked away at last, stepping briskly around them to
tap the door with his wand.
"I know. It's not right for Harry to have to suffer through this. Like it's not
right for you to have to suffer through the change every month. Like it's not
right for me to have to hide away here in this fucking tomb." Sirius offered up
his half-mad grin, the one he knew Moony couldn't resist for anything. "Happens
anyway, doesn't it? And when it happens, we deal with it together, don't we?"
And as expected, Remus blinked for a moment, then surrendered with a laugh.
"Well I suppose it's no more illegal than you lot becoming unregistered
animagi," he said, reaching around them to un-ward and open the door.
"That's my Moony," Sirius beamed, tripping over his spare boots as he rounded
the unmade bed. "Get the fire going, will you? I want to keep Harry warm while
we do this." The grate blazed to life by way of an answer, and Sirius glimpsed
Remus turning back to weave spells across the door. Silencing, warding,
protecting. Always the caretaker, always the responsible one, even with his
robe half-buttoned and slipping down his shoulder. Sirius's heart gave a
sideways twist, then another as Harry grimaced, pressed his face into Sirius's
neck, and came against his belly.
He caught his breath on a moan as the sticky slickness rolled down between
them, but Harry's dry, cracked sob shook him out of it. "No, no it's okay
Harry," he murmured, kneeling to lay them both on the thick, shaggy hearthrug,
"I wanted you to. I wanted it. Want you."
He kissed a path from Harry's tight-screwed eyes down to where his teeth caught
hard against his bottom lip, and there he used his own lips and tongue to coax
the grip loose. Harry opened his mouth, yearning upward into Sirius's kiss as
though starving for it. His tongue, a little sour with sleep, a little strange
with venom, pressed frantically against Sirius's own. Artless, desperate,
perfect as only a virgin's kiss could be.
Sirius lost himself there for the space of a breath or two, until he felt
Remus' hand slip warily onto his shoulder. Don't forget what you're doing, that
touch asked quietly. He relinquished the kiss, not without a wistful peck or
two, and looked back to where Remus knelt behind him, a pile of towels over his
arm, and the green lubricant bottle from the bedside table in his hand. The
werewolf's eyes were still haunted with worry, but his cock was at half-mast,
twitching with interest even though he'd come not ten minutes earlier.
"All right, Moony?" Sirius asked, rolling to make room for him to stretch out
along Harry's side. When Remus didn't move, when Harry's restless mouth quested
blindly along Sirius's collarbone, he let his hand slither down the youth's
trembling belly -- leading the werewolf's amber gaze downward to where Harry's
unflagging erection arched stickily, desperately upward.
Harry moaned, thrusting hip and tongue at once. Remus swallowed, closed his
eyes and gave a bone-deep shiver. "All right," he said, and lay himself down,
warm and golden on Harry's other side.
===============================================================================
It's Harry, Remus thought, watching Sirius's hands ghosting along the pale-and-
tawny skin, watching the tiny silvery hairs rise in the wake of that reverent
touch, watching the boy writhe and quiver under those scarred fingers. It's
Harry. Lily's baby. James's sprog. It's… dear God, it's Harry. But even in his
own head, he couldn't entirely tell whether it was reprimand, or a goad to
action.
Because Remus didn't like little boys. He didn't lust for children's flesh,
didn't crave innocence like candy between his teeth, didn't confuse the urge to
teach with the urge to stalk and claim. He wasn't Greyback, and he had worked
all his life never to become such a monster.
But… this wanton creature carding his swollen hands through the hearth rug in
desperation, arching open-mouthed into Sirius' gentle kisses as though starving
for them, fretting and frotting his leg against the mere warmth of Remus' thigh
while his scarlet prick gleamed and wept for attention… this was hardly a
little boy. He seemed a nymph, fragrant with earth and sweat and seed, or an
incubus, formed equally of fire's greedy glow, and darkness' caress, but with
slitted eyes of pure, green want.
And despite Remus' satiation in the library scant minutes before, despite his
faithful, complete love for the charming, silver-eyed rogue entangled before
him, despite the tight knot of worry in his belly, the tremble in his hovering
hand, and the shiver locked tight between his shoulderblades, Remus felt
himself twitch, thicken, and grow heavy at the sight.
"Moony…" Sirius' fingers laced with his and drew his hand down to Harry's
belly. He flinched at the blazing heat, but Sirius held him fast, as much with
his sidelong grey stare, and the gleaming path of his tongue along Harry's
throat, as by his grip.
"Sirius, I'm-"
"He needs-"
"Please!" Harry's thready cry cut through the whispering, and his narrow hips
thrust helplessly, nudging his prick against the curve of Remus' elbow.
"Please, it hurts… I can't- Oh please!"
"Shh, Harry, shhh. I've got you. We've got you. It'll be all right." Sirius let
go Remus' hand to enfold the boy, stroke his static-wild hair, croon comfort
into his ear, but his eyes never left Remus' face. As though it really were as
simple as need and surrender, as though nothing else mattered-
Fingers. Hot, small, trembling and awkward, and wrapping around his prick.
Remus gasped, barely stopped himself scrambling out of reach. "Please…" Harry
whispered, eyes like fevered lanterns, tongue small and damp along his lips as
he turned in Sirius arms, rolled his back up against the man's chest, and took
Remus into both hands.
And even then, he was not lost. Even then, Remus could, just barely, cling to
the memory of that young face in his classes, tie askew, ink smudge beside his
nose, eyes focused and determined on… survival, whispered a tiny voice inside
him, making him suddenly as ashamed of his fear as of the act it forbade.
What are you gonna do then, Moony? came the silent answer in the voice of a man
fourteen years dead, Spend all your life 'surviving', or try living it once in
awhile?
And then, because nobody but Lily had ever mastered the trick of getting Prongs
to shut up, and because Harry's restless hands were pulling on him, twisting
and rubbing just so while Padfoot whispered instructions in his ear, and
because Padfoot's hand was curling about his shoulder, pulling him close,
pulling him down -- because he was tired of clinging to the cliff's edge, Remus
let go, and fell headlong into Harry's kiss.
He took that open mouth with his own, blocked his welcoming cry with the
thrust-and-tangle of tongue and teeth. And the taste of him, funky with sleep
and toxin, but pure and sweet and unspoilt beneath that, woke a rumble deep
inside Remus' chest. He clutched Harry to him, tight, and hard and mewling with
relief as the boy rutted in short, jerky thrusts against Remus cock.
"Christ, Moony," he dimly registered Sirius' moan against his ear, large, firm
hands gripping his shoulders, his arse, pulling his knee over Harry's hip so
another knee could slide between from behind and spread them all open to the
air. Remus growled approval as he felt knuckles brush his bollocks, felt Harry
twist under his chest -- surprise at first, eyes going wide, tongue pulling
back to loose a yelp. But, "Easy now, Harry," Sirius murmured, nuzzling low
along that sweaty, alluring throat, "you're all right…"
"Bear down, Harry," Remus said, giving in to the urge to taste of that throat
as well, "push out against-" But then he felt the shudder, the convulsive
twitch, and ragged gasp, and the silken-slick bloom of spunk across his cock
and belly. "Ahh, fuck," he moaned, rubbing into the heat, "that's right…
there's a good, good boy…"
"Ssss," Harry writhed between them, his hands restive again as he drove himself
between Padfoot's working fingers and Remus' tumescent cock,
"Saahhrileeeeethhhh, Shheheeeechhhlaiiiith…" Velvet and slippery, the strange
words rolled off his lips.
"What is it, Harry?" Sirius urged, one hand braced on Remus' hip, rocking him
in, and in, and in again to the slick, wriggling form between them, "tell us
what you need."
"Hmmmmore. Need more," he whined, tossing his head against the hollow of
Sirius' shoulder.
"Like this?" And the lower hand re-arranged itself. No more knuckles pressing
into Remus' bollocks, all smooth planes now, fingers held straight, and fuck,
that meant he was taking the whole- "All right, Harry?" Sirius asked, urging
Remus back into his rocking pace, "You're all right, eh?"
"Nnng," came the whimpered reply, "Nseeeehelllrhiii…"
"English, Harry," Remus urged, rolling back enough to catch one of the boy's
hard, rosy nipples between his teeth, "Tell us what's wrong."
Harry gave a ragged sob and clutched at Remus' shoulders, using the leverage to
press his own body back into Sirius' grip. "Sssssuck! Please!"
"You want Moony to suck you?"
Remus was already slithering out of their knot, hands grasping for the narrow
hips, mouth watering at the smell of sweaty, spunky, sleepy, fevered boy
arising damply from between them. The bitter smell of Doxy, the thick funk
arising from where Sirius' hand disappeared behind Harry's puckered, swollen
bollocks, the sharply familiar smell of his mate's own desire all braided up
along Remus' spine as he swept Harry's still-urgent cock into his mouth with
one long lick.
Harry let loose a wail like a bean sidhe, thrashed and twitched against Remus'
grip. Behind him, Sirius swore, low, harsh and ragged, then pulled his fingers
away all at once. Senses buzzing, Remus pulled Harry's knee up over his
shoulder, braced the boy wide as Sirius fidgeted, panting into place. One hard
suck -- he felt Harry jerk, imagined the head of Sirius' cock breaching that
tight, hot ring of flesh -- he hummed, rubbed two fingers into the swollen
bulge behind Harry's bollocks to soothe him. And then he could feel it
happening -- could feel every vein, every ridge of Sirius' cock through the
thin shroud of flesh and blood and desire, could feel Harry yielding to it,
opening, hungry and desperate to the intrusion Soon Sirius' bollocks pressed,
sweaty and soft into the tips of Remus' fingers, and Harry's toes flexed hard
against Remus' ribs.
God. God! Remus caught his breath against the shudder of pure lust that raced
through him. Growling, he pressed his forehead into Harry's quivering belly,
and filled his nose with the intoxicating, animal scent.
Harry's cries had worn down to hisses and gulps, shattered bits of parseltongue
and nonsense filth torn out between twitching gasps as they worked him, in and
out, between them. Remus swallowed in time to Sirius' gentle, rocking thrusts,
using his tongue to press Harry against the roof of his mouth, and his fingers
to knead Sirius' tightening bollocks.
"Moony… Moony, Merlin, you're-" Sirius panted brokenly as Harry twitched and
mewled in his arms, "It's… God, that's hot, and… so…" Remus silenced the babble
with two fingers, pressed deep and slick into Padfoot's still-welcoming arse.
"Fuck him," he growled, raising his head from the damp cleft of Harry's thighs,
"He wants it, don't you Harry?" He pressed his cock against Harry's arched
foot, and shuddered with relief as the toes curled around him. "You want him to
fuck you hard, don't you? You want him to pound you until you scream, make you
come until you can't come any more. Don't you, Harry?" He ground the heel of
his hand against Padfoot's bollocks, crooked his fingers just so, and grinned
to hear the familiar whine leak out around Sirius' mouthful of Harry's neck.
"Don't you?"
Harry's eyes were barely a glitter under his lashes -- delirious with need and
the fever as he strained fretfully between them. "Please, ohgod please!"
"Fuck, Moony, please!" Sirius matched the whimper, his muscles clenching around
Remus' fingers. And suddenly it wasn't enough to grind his cock against Harry's
arching foot. Not enough by half.
"Yes," Remus growled, and with a great heave, rolled them all over -- himself
flat on the sweat-damp rug, Harry and Sirius in a startled, straddling sprawl
across his shoulders and chest. "Yes we will!"
Both took to the change at once, as though by instinct. Harry braced up against
Remus on trembling arms, wriggled back onto Sirius' cock while Sirius curled
his tattooed arms around Harry's chest to seat him firmly, solidly down. They
rocked together, pressing, soft and solid in the hollow of Remus' belly, and
Merlin, but they were beautiful. Flushed and needy, all gripping hands and
craning throats as they strained together for another kiss. Ivory and sweat,
bruise and smoke and slithering tongues and simply, completely beautiful.
He thought he could watch forever, enraptured by the play of flame along the
architectures of bone and tawny skin, by the glitter of green eyes and grey,
and hair like tangled shadows everywhere... But Sirius' eyes, grey and greedy,
locked on his, and he skidded backward just so much -- just enough that his
rocking pace brushed the cleft of his arse against Remus' prick. Remus' hips
bucked up, desperate for more than that grazing touch, and Sirius inched
backward again, enfolding him in tight, sweating heat of flexing muscles and
rolling skin.
"Fuck," Harry panted, his nails scrabbling across Remus' scarred chest, "Fuck…
him… too!" Fever-bright beneath his sweaty fringe, Harry's eyes bore into
Remus, just as though he knew what he was asking for. Just as if it had always
been him there, pinned on Padfoot's cock, with his own dripping long silver
threads onto Remus' belly. "Please, Prof-'
Remus lunged up, silenced those lips with his tongue, and rutted his prick
deeper against Padfoot's arse. He grabbed them both -- Sirius' hip in his right
hand, Harry's in his left -- to still the maddening pace before his restraint
shattered completely.
Sirius' weight shifted. Remus felt him lifting away, tipping Harry down against
Remus' chest, and pressing them both back to the shaggy rug. Harry whimpered,
shivered, and suckled at Remus tongue as though he needed the kiss more than
breath. "He will, Harry," Remus heard Sirius murmur, then he felt the weight of
him shift, twist as he leaned back and sweet Christ, yes, took Remus' cock in
hand. And then there was the familiar heat, the constriction rippling along his
length with the distant echo of his mate's heartbeat, the weight settling back
onto his straining thighs as Sirius tossed his head back and loosed a groan
that seemed to come from the center of his soul, "Oh, fuck yes, he will!"
Perfect. Utterly, completely perfect, from the surging roll of his hips to the
skid and slide of Harry's cock against his belly. From the fierce grip of
Padfoot's flesh around him to the tiny, frantic bites Harry littered across his
throat and jaw while he panted and whined beneath the onslaught. From the
reedy, sweaty back Remus clasped in desperate hands, to the solid thighs that
surged back to meet his thrusts over, and over, and over again. From the tickle
of long, swinging hair against his knees as Padfoot craned backward in bliss to
the sharp drag of ragged nails against his shoulders as Harry clung and mewled
and came against his belly.
Sirius roared, seizing and rippling around him. Remus stuffed his knuckles into
his mouth and bit down hard as his own orgasm whelmed him in a pounding red
haze. So perfect, he could not but weep. Pure, and perfect, and gone, gone,
gone.
===============================================================================
Sleep was a grey thing, warm and soft, and wrapped cuddling-close around him,
whirring gently in his ear like the sea, or the wind in the trees. Sleep
smoothed along his brow and cheek in a delicate touch, and murmured, "Fever's
broken," in a voice of pure love.
He nuzzled his ear toward the sound, and he smiled.
"At last," another voice, breath-soft across his cheek, warm and golden as
honey. "We ought to-"
"No, let him sleep," said the first as the downy, thick doze flexed around him
with a rustly sound. "He's fine where he is… See? Leave him. Just a little
while more."
Another rustling breath, like a shadow across his eyes. "All right, he'll stay.
Sleep now, love. I'll keep watch." A sliding sound, and the drowse rocked
gently around him, like a boat, or a swinging hammock in the summer breeze.
Weight and pressure shifted, settled, draped thick and warm around him, and
blew out a long sigh against the back of his neck as the warm voice hummed low
and sweet, beside.
The tidal whisper deepened under his ear, and he let it wash him back and forth
for awhile, wound securely in the velvety grey, and aware as he had never been
before, of the sensation of being cherished. The breath-tide rumbled across a
snore, and the gentle humming subsided. The boat-hammock dipped gently with the
sliding sound of skin on cloth, and he roused himself with a mighty effort to
crack one eye open.
"Remus," he murmured, and the werewolf froze, perched on the edge of the bed,
his wand already in his fingers. Harry blinked as Remus looked at him, eyes
golden and contrite in the fire's gleam. "Don't go," he said, not knowing what
else to say, "please don't leave yet."
"Harry," he murmured, but still rolled back again, close and warm as he draped
his arm across, "you know you can't stay all night. You can't be in this room
when the others wake up." And yes, he knew. In some small, cold, disappointed
place inside himself, he knew, but he didn't much want to have to say the
words, so he only pressed his face into the soft, scratchy hair across Remus'
chest and nodded. Remus' sigh tickled his nose, but the man didn't resist as
Harry pulled him cuddling-close again. "All right," he said, and pressed a kiss
to his hair, "a little longer then."
Harry kissed his thanks over a purpling bite mark, smiling secretly to remember
that he had put it there. Then he closed his eyes tight, closed his arms tight,
and let the words slip out, as if by accident, as if he hadn't heard himself
think of them, and didn't really have to listen to Remus' answer. "We're not
going to remember this, are we?"
He felt Remus' head shake, and was glad it hadn't been words. Remus' hand
smoothed across his brow again, ghosting over his closed eyelids, and down the
sleepy planes of his face. "When you wake up, you'll be the same as before. You
and he both." And though the promise was the last thing he wanted, Harry smiled
to hear it.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, pretending he couldn't feel tears prickling his
eyelashes as Sirius snored gently behind him. "I don't want to-"
"Shh, now," Remus stopped his words with a gentle kiss. "It's best this way.
You'll never know to miss it, will you? Padfoot will still love you just as
much, Harry. He'd die for you, with or without this night. But these memories…
they'll confuse things, won't they? They'll get in the way of what we all have
to do." A finger snuck under Harry's chin, tilted his face up to the light, and
made him meet that sober gaze. "They'll get in the way, cloud our judgment. And
just think what would happen if anyone caught a glimpse of them."
Harry thought, and his heart beat just a little faster. "They couldn't! I mean
I'd never-"
"Hush," Remus soothed. "They won't. I'll make sure of that. Trust me."
"I do," Harry murmured after a long, searching moment. "I will. But," he worked
a hand out of Sirius' grasp, and felt for Remus' fingers to twine with his own,
"not yet? Please?"
"All right," he felt the smile spread against his temple as Remus settled
deeper into the bed. "Sleep now. I'll keep watch."
And so invoked, the grey velvet sleep twined up around him, soft and sweet with
shared breath and the smell of warmth. A sweet, comfortable voice whispered out
of his memory, golden and loving, singing soft and long ago while Remus hummed
the tune.
Oh hush thee, my baby, thy sire was a knight.
Thy mother a lady both lovely and bright.
The fields and the woods from the tower which we see,
They all are belonging, my dear one, to thee.
Oh fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows,
It calls but the warders who guard thy repose.
Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red
Ere the step of a foeman drew near to thy bed.
And for a little while, at least, Harry let himself believe it could be true.
===============================================================================

                                      Fin

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End Notes
     The lullabye was authored by Tennyson, and is public domain at this
     point.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!