No Better Mistake
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, or any other related characters from the world of Harry Potter. I also don't own the setting, plot lines, relationships, etc. ANYTHING ASSOCIATED WITH HARRY POTTER BELONGS TO J.K. ROWLING. : )
A few notes before I begin...
1. I hate Peter Pettigrew and I make every effort to not include him in the story.
2. I try to be as accurate to the real characters/story as possible, with the exception of a few details (example: I don't know when their real birthdays are, so I made my own, and I chose to make Sirius get his own place AFTER seventh year (18), not at 17).
3. This is a story about two men in a relationship. AKA, they are homosexuals. AKA, if you're not okay with that, don't read it.
4. It gets pretty serious/sexual, so reader discretion is advised.
It was 10:15. Two hours after James Potter's meeting with McGonagall had ended, and twenty minutes before he would burst into their dormitory; face pink, eyes shining, full of unsuppressed glee from library time he had spent studying with Lily. James' actions were like clockwork; always the same, if due to nothing else other than Lily's ever-present punctuality. These sessions were his nightly ritual and Remus had been extremely careful to note his patterns. If he had not, he would have felt much more apprehensive about lying in bed with his friend and dorm mate, Sirius Black.
However, as it was, the two were lounged, uncharacteristically quiet, on Remus' scarlet-hung four-poster bed. Sirius lay on his back, still dressed in his school uniform, but with long bare feet and his tie and sweater discarded, leaving him looking rumpled in only his slightly wrinkled button-down and well-tailored slacks. His dark hair spread out slightly on the pillowcase, falling back to expose his partially closed, somewhat sleepy eyes; gray in color and framed by full, dark lashes. One hand briefly rubbed the several day's worth, dark scruff on his chin and face, and the other absentmindedly turned a soft tendril of Remus' hair over, and over, and over again. Remus lay in his way, his head resting on Sirius' hard chest, smelling his familiar scent—a combination of day-old cologne, soap, and the very hint of cigarettes. Sirius had been trying to quit, after all. Remus' casual wear was so worn it almost melded into his surprisingly soft, though scarred, skin, and from the position he lay in he moved one hand faintly under Sirius' shirt, gently touching his cool, soft hand into the flesh of his side, relaxing tense muscles.
His eyes were closed, and the hair Sirius was so skillfully stroking was a light brown in color, straight, and beginning to sweep over his eyes; speckled here and there with a delicate, silver hair, particularly around the temples. Both boys' bare feet were entwined, their legs meeting each other in a complicated, but comfortable, position. Neither was under the carefully made sheets of Remus' bed, and neither cared to draw the heavy scarlet curtains; instead, they enjoyed the moonlight that was floating in through the dormitory window, the only light in the room beside the glowing fire. They still had a number of minutes to rise and pull themselves into sitting positions, pick up the books they had discarded on the floor and pretend, as always, that they were studying. However, at the current moment, neither felt a strong desire to end their sleepy and well-practiced embrace.
"It's a quarter past," Sirius murmured, having raised one arm to check his watch face. It had been a gift from James and his parents last year, when he turned seventeen; a traditional gift from the parents of a wizard who was coming of age. At the age of eighteen, Sirius hadn't lived with his own family for almost two years now, although he did occasionally see his younger brother Regulus, a Slytherin fifth-year, eating or studying amongst his emerald-clad cronies; and the pang of hatred he'd experienced when he glimpsed his abandoned family, picking up Regulus as they'd left for summer last year, was still fresh in his mind. However, the watch he wore served as a barrier for the burning anger that sometimes wanted to force itself through. It reminded him of his best friend, James, and the hospitality James and his parents had extended onto him. James' family had seen many great witches and wizards, and, as a result, they were extremely wealthy and well prepared to participate in such practices such as the traditional watch giving. Sirius' watch, he knew, had been purchased, new, and not handed down, as evident from the supple, yet firm leather band. Remus heard the familiar tick within the white-gold face of the device, and made his first sound in over a quarter of an hour: a soft, reluctant sigh.
Sirius moved his hand from Remus' head to his soft shirt, an action that Remus responded to by scooting further up Sirius' body, his head now resting in the crook of the taller boy's neck. Sirius rubbed circles on Remus' back as the younger's hand moved down the expanse of Sirius' chest, feeling the soft hairs that grew under his collarbone and down his stomach. In a delicate manner that only Remus knew, Sirius gently kissed the top of Remus' shampooed, sweet-smelling hair. Moving his right hand, he used one callused finger to lift Remus' chin, as if he needed any form of encouragement. With eyes closed, their lips met; closing the gap between them seamlessly, and easily. In response, Remus allowed his other hand to creep up behind them, finding Sirius' long, dark strands, and closing them in around his hand.
Sirius smiled into their prolonged kiss, his hands moving down Remus' back and face. "Love you… so much," he murmured into the kiss, briefly drawing apart and then planting another, soft meeting onto Remus' lips. Remus had a small, very faded scar going from his left ear to cheek, and a yellowing bruise from a previous week's transformation on his neck, and Sirius' eyes traced them eagerly, as if trying to memorize his face
Remus didn't respond with words, instead, he drew his mouth away from Sirius', and brought both hands down his chest, lingering only momentarily at the pearly, bottom button of Sirius' shirt. Slowly, he opened the garment from the bottom up, planting tender kisses on the slightly olive-toned flesh that surrounded Sirius' navel, feeling his hair brush on his cheek and smelling his scent. Sirius sighed, letting his head fall back again on the pillow, closing his eyes as Remus mouth drifted up his torso, both hands now interlocked with Remus' fine, light hair. In this position, he couldn't see the moons of his watch face, telling him time was ticking dangerously closer to the time when James would burst into their dormitory. They had become bolder in their actions with each other, and with their actions within the dormitory. Only a few months ago, Remus wouldn't have dared to kiss Sirius where, and how he was kissing him now, and Sirius wouldn't have let himself slip away in a drowsy, pleasurable state. Months ago, they would have broken their embrace a quarter of an hour before James was supposed to arrive, just to be safe. Months ago, Sirius wouldn't have sighed in the way he did now, and Remus wouldn't have let his hands grip Sirius' sides, gently beginning to dig with his nails. Months ago, James wouldn't have been so friendly with Lily; so friendly her clockwork actions had become less and less precise. Months ago, they would have heard James begun to bound up the stone steps outside.
Just a few months ago… they would have been more careful.
They drew apart at the loud bang of the dormitory dorm, but by then, it was too late. James Potter stood in the doorway of their room, the vast grin that had filled his face now quickly falling; confused, hurt, and shocked. His mouth gaped, unable to form words, and yet he couldn't look away.
Horrified, Sirius leap off of Remus' bed, hastily trying to button his shirt, but getting them all wrong as he simultaneously rushed across the room to his best friend's side. "James—let me explain—"
"What the fuck are you two doing?" James exclaimed, drawing away from Sirius' outstretched hand, as if afraid that, he too, would fall victim to his embrace. "Sirius—Remus—I—"
Remus' face worked furiously as he rose from his own four-poster, also coming toward James, trying very hard to smile, and look calm. "James, if we could just talk to you…"
"How long have you two been doing this?" James gasped, as Sirius dropped his hands and tried to remain a respectable distance away from the boy he had been, seconds ago, embracing. He looked desperately at Remus, who, flushed, and rumpled, looked nothing like the studious and quiet Lupin they had become used too. James ran his hand through his hair, a horrible habit, and crossed his arms as he asked his next question: "How—how long have you been fucking?"
"We aren't." Sirius protested, moving again to place his hand on James' shoulder. "James, it's not like that—"
"Then what is it like, Black? What happened?" James bellowed, his voice rising swiftly. "You two were obviously in—in the bed doing— I don't know what and you—"
"James," Sirius pleaded, "James, it's—"
"I don't even want to think about what you're doing—"
"James!" he persisted, louder. "Just let me talk!"
"—the fact that you lied to me; have been lying to me; hiding—"
"James, we're not just fucking!" Sirius bellowed, closing the gap between him and his best friend. "I… I'm… I'm sorry. But I do…. love him."
Once again, James was at a loss for words. He continued to open and close his mouth, but nothing came out. He slowly turned, at the aid of Sirius' hands, and collapsed onto his bed, staring, confused, down at his open hands.
It seemed like hours. Remus stood, a short distance away from the two, chewing anxiously on a thumb nail, crossing his arms across his chest as if he was the one who had been exposed. Sirius stood over James, shirt still askew, breathing heavily as if he had just played a marathon of Quidditch. His eyes were clouded with desperation, begging for James, who was like a brother to him, to listen; to understand. Finally, after several seconds where only Sirius' heavy breathing was heard, James looked up again at Sirius.
"What happened?" he asked but his time, the anger had melted away from his face, replaced only with confusion, and hurt. "Just tell me… how this happened."
In relief, Sirius let on a cry and sank onto the ground weakly, as if his legs would no longer support him. Remus remained standing, and for the first time, James shifted his gaze over to him. "Remus…" James croaked, and Remus melted onto the bed beside him. James' eyes flitted back between the two boys, waiting, and both were surprised at Remus opened his mouth, and began to speak.
"It started this past summer…"
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