Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7868923.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J.K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Sirius_Black/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Sirius_Black
  Additional Tags:
      Bestiality, Drama, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Collections:
      Ink_Stained_Fingers
  Stats:
      Published: 2003-12-29 Words: 1174
****** The Normal ******
by dehkla [archived by ISF_Archivist]
Summary
     Harry wonders about what is normal.
Notes
     This story was originally archived at Ink_Stained_Fingers, which was
     created in 2002 as a home for Harry Potter slash fiction. To preserve
     the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an
     Open Doors-approved project in January 2015. We e-mailed all authors
     about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached
     everyone. If you are (or know) this author or artist, please contact
     me using the e-mail address at the Ink_Stained_Fingers_collection
     profile.
     Author's notes: I don’t know what possessed me to write this. ::hides
     head in hands:: Let me know what you think. come on, I can take it.
The Normal
  Warnings: Bestiality
  Summary: Harry wonders about Sirius
  He wasn't sure when the wondering became more specific -
  that is to say, when he stopped wondering about how a grown man's cock looked
  and started wondering how Sirius' cock looked.
  Perhaps it was because Sirius was the only man Harry had ever had all to
  himself, brief though those moments were.
  Normal - he thought it was normal to turn curious eyes to the only adult role
  model present. In the mornings, at Grimmauld Place, when he'd stand in the
  hallway still crusty and squashed from sleep, waiting for the bathroom, Remus
  would walk by when the tea kettle boiled and tease: "Hurry it up in there,
  Sirius! I swear, you're worse than a woman. Poor Harry's been waiting for 15
  minutes already."
  Sirius would open the door, his hair hanging down wet and his trousers
  unbuttoned, shirt in hand, feet bare.
  Harry's eyes would take in the line where fabric met the dark hair on Sirius'
  stomach and it was normal that he wondered what the rest of the man's skin
  looked like. What the soft bulge between Sirius' legs would look like
  uncovered.
  Because sometimes, when Harry looked at himself he wasn't at all sure that
  his bits and pieces were normal. They seemed so strange and pale, and for all
  he knew they could be growing all backward, and he couldn't help but wonder
  if everyone's tip was so big, compared to the rest of it, and if the veins
  were supposed to look like that.
  And certainly, Uncle Vernon never answered his questions, and had always been
  scrupulously modest around the house. Not that he would want - ugh.
  At Hogwarts, it was all boys, no adults, and you didn't see much of each
  other, anyways. But Sirius was accessible, and healthy, and...and attractive,
  you know, well formed. Normal. And if Harry could just see it, could just see
  Sirius' cock, just once, then he would know for sure what it was supposed to
  look like.
  So, yeah, he thought about it. At first, just because Sirius was an adult.
  And then because Sirius was Sirius.
  Because thinking about it, well, one thing led to another. Then one day,
  sitting at the breakfast table, watching Sirius tap his pencil on his lower
  lip as he stared at the daily crossword puzzle, the thought flashed across
  his mind: did Sirius ever...play with it? The way Harry played with his?
  He couldn't.
  But...they said everyone did it. Madame Pomfrey had passed out pamphlets,
  second year, about how wet dreams and masturbation were normal, and things
  that everyone experienced. And if everyone did it, then Sirius must do it,
  too.
  And suddenly Harry hadn't been able to eat another bite of his croissant,
  because his stomach was tight as a fist and his fingertips were tingling. He
  looked over at Sirius again, at the shiny skin of his jaw which would be
  stubbly again by tea time, and at the way his thumb worried the eraser of the
  pencil, and suddenly Harry could picture that hand wrapped around Sirius' own
  cock, that jaw exposed, head thrown back...
  He had to leave the table. He wasn't sure if it was nausea or arousal, but a
  wave of something swept through him and for a moment he was certain he was
 going to throw up.
  That night, lying in his bed in the dark, when Harry touched himself he
  couldn't help but think of Sirius, doing the same thing. What would he look
  like? Did he do it the same way Harry did, tugging on the skin to the same
  rhythm, rubbing the tip on each up stroke? Did he use lotion to make it
  slicker? Spit?
  The next time Harry was in Sirius' room, he scanned the bedside table eagerly
  for some clue, but there was no telltale bottle in sight.
  The first time he noticed Padfoot's cock, he didn't think it was normal. He
  didn't think much of anything, besides that this was Sirius, really, Sirius
  running around the house...naked.
  Once he'd thought about it, he found he couldn't look at Padfoot without his
  eyes straying to the large balls swinging between his rear legs. It was
  obscene. He told himself that the heat creeping up into his face was
  embarrassment. He was embarrassed for his godfather - not aroused.
  Because it shouldn't be arousing, seeing the sheath of his penis when Padfoot
  rolled over to have his tummy scratched. Seeing the tip of his cock poking
  out, bright red, as he wriggled on his back and whined. Thinking that this
  was Sirius, naked, on his back with his legs spread, and when Harry scratched
  him just below his ribs where the soft pink skin showed through did it feel
  the way it would feel if he was in human form? Did it feel the way it would
  feel if Harry were touching Sirius just below his navel, trailing his fingers
  through the fine hair there?
  Harry's cock was chafing against the inside of his jeans. Something must be
  very wrong with him, that he would think these things, and he knew it, but he
  couldn't tear his eyes away from the exposed dog in front of him. He couldn't
  stop his fingers from drifting closer, wondering what it would feel like -
  the shiny pink length extending in his hand, sliding across his palm, slick
  and thin and hard...
  And then suddenly, it was Sirius again... human and clothed and still as
  death under his hand. Harry's eyes snapped up to the other man's face, and it
  would have been funny and he would have laughed, if the look of absolute
  horror and revulsion hadn't been directed at him. And before the startled man
  in front of him could say anything, Harry pushed away and ran. Locked himself
  in the bathroom. And he wouldn't have come out, even if Sirius had banged on
  the door and begged...
  Which he didn't.
  Now, two years later, Harry struggles to keep his breathing normal as he
  touches himself under the thick woven blankets of his dormitory bed.
  Not that his roommates would be surprised that he was wanking - God knows
  they all did that. They might not even be surprised - some of them, the
  observant ones - to know that he thinks of his dead godfather while he does
  it.
  But all of them, Harry thinks, would be surprised to know that, in his
  fantasy it is claws rather than fingers that scrabble at his shoulders as he
  is mounted from behind. It is a dog's furry chest that presses into his back
  and pins him down while he is frantically humped by the beast, while he is
  punished for his disgusting, naughty thoughts. He imagines the long, thin dog
  cock swelling inside his arse, shooting inside him - and only when he is tied
  to his fantasy lover does he allow himself to come.
  And for one hot, pure moment, he forgets how abnormal he is.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!