A/N: Today I was looking through my folder of completed stories and I stumbled across this one, which I wrote quite a while ago. And reading over it I went: "Wait, why didn't I ever post this?" I decided, oh why not?, so here is Possession. It's pretty much just a drabble, featuring our favorite werewolf being fought over by two different people. Enjoy! And if you don't like slash you can just turn around right now.

Disclaimer: Can I just write that word and have it say everything? It's kind of self-explanatory.

Possession

Remus Lupin is uncomfortably aware of the weight of two distinct gazes. One is stormy gray, which can be either sharp and piercing or softer but always, always burns right through him. The other is—currently at least—hazel, with bright flecks of gold and green. He doesn't know for sure what the real color beneath those gold-green-honey eyes is, but he suspects that it is the same burning gray.

He feels caught, pinned by those two gazes which follow his every move. He can feel them, heavy on him as he passes them, heavy and more tangible on his skin than even fingers brushing over his shoulders. Both of those gazes want him. He can feel the possessiveness, hot on his back, but only one can have him.

One is his childhood friend, his best friend, his lover from a world that has changed so radically, the first person he ever loved, perhaps the only person he will ever love. The other is a bright-eyed, bright-haired young woman, whose eyes—hazel hiding gray—show every little emotion. One is comfort and passion and heat; the other is sheer potential for a love like the ones you find in epic novels.

For just a moment he feels those gazes lift from him, and he feels the charge in the air as those two—possessive—gazes meet each other. They are the competitors and he is the prize; it's a war, black versus black, and he's just the poor soul caught in the middle.

Only one can win.

He watches, with a half-smile on his face, as Sirius corners his cousin. "Dora," he says with a smile, leaning closer to her. She meets his gaze, friendly, and for just a split second that grin he always wears turns almost feral. "He's mine." He whispers, and there is no questioning what exactly those two words mean.

The expression on her face—the widening of her eyes, the parting of her lips—is almost comical. The feral grin fades to that friendly grin again and Sirius turns and walks away.

As one broad hand settles on his shoulder Remus Lupin feels two gazes. One is gray and—sharp, piercing, soft, warm—smoldering, possessive right down to the very last of it, and it sends a shiver down his spine. The other is—dark brown today, hiding that gray—longing, filled with desire and want and regret. He feels it shift away from him, settling on the owner of that broad hand for a moment, and then the gaze is gone.

Remus Lupin is oh-so-comfortably aware of the one gaze that follows him everywhere.

And Sirius Black absolutely loves the—smoldering, burning, piercing, soft, warm, possessive—gaze that follows his every movement.


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