Author's Notes: Ever since finishing Influence of Souls, I've decided there's something hot about the Harry/Sirius pairing. My muse demanded I write more, and thus was this story born.

Warnings: for slash, adult content, and possibly some coercion of the magical sort, which I suppose also qualifies it for a darkish? warning too.

The Peverell Petition

"What!" Sirius's outraged voice cried, silverware clattering noisily as it fell from numb fingers to his plate.

"You've been entered into a betrothal agreement," Sirius's father Orion repeated stuffily.

"You must be joking!" Sirius stood abruptly, chair scraping loudly across the floor as it was shoved back. "If you think for a moment that I'll go along with this, you're barking, the both of you."

"You will do as you're told, you disrespectful little brat," screeched Walburga, Sirius's mother.

It was obvious from Sirius's expression that he didn't intend to back down from this, Orion noticed. The man sighed heavily and tried to smooth things over before his wife, in her anger, ruined any chance there was of convincing their eldest son to go along with their plans.

"I should think you'll actually be pleased with the match," Orion said in a carefully-crafted idle manner as he took a sip of his elf-made wine.


"Yes. It took your would-be spouse quite some time to convince your mother, what with being a—what did you call it dear?"

"A filthy blood-traitor," Walburga said, through pursed lips. "Probably the reason for their interest in you, another pure-blood who persists in defying your breeding and heritage. Why else would they have done what they did?"

Sirius looked bewildered. "What? If you think she's a blood traitor then why did you agree to a betrothal? And what did they do that has you so annoyed?"

"Your mother had been a bit too … vocal, in recent years, of her support of the Dark Lord," Orion said.

Sirius snickered. "Yeah, that didn't work out too well for you, did it mother dearest?" he said with a dark sort of satisfaction.

"Why you disrespectful, traitorous spawn!" Walburga screeched. "You will not talk to me in such a manner in my own home!"

"Walburga, peace," Orion said firmly, and the woman reluctantly subsided. "As I said, your mother made no secret of her support of the Dark Lord. With his recent unexpected defeat, the tides are turning, as it were. We need to do something to salvage our reputation."

"So what, you plan to marry me off to some light witch to make the family look good?" Sirius asked in disgust.

"Not exactly," Orion said, and there was a hidden, deeper meaning behind those words that Sirius couldn't quite grasp. "And we didn't agree to this with just any light petitioner. No, I think you might actually be pleased, Sirius. Your future spouse is the much-lauded-of-late Peverell."

Sirius's younger brother Regulus, who had thus far been watching the goings-on with silent but intent interest, suddenly spluttered in shock. Sirius himself wasn't much better, dropping heavily into his abandoned seat, eyes gone wide and jaw hanging open.

"Peverell?" Sirius finally choked out. "As in, the mysterious defeater of You-Know-Who, who no one knows anything about? That Peverell?"

"Just so," Orion said, satisfied with the reaction his news had garnered.

"A pureblood family, at least," Walburga muttered grudgingly. "Head of the family even, being the last and all. They were thought extinct some centuries back of course, but the provided paperwork from Gringotts all proved genuine. They are who they claim."

"I trust, given this news, you'll at least grant your betrothed an audience," Orion said pointedly, "before you do something unwise like spurn them entirely?"

Sirius's jaw clenched and the entire family, even Walburga, fell into a tense, expectant silence. Finally Sirius gave a terse nod.

"I'll speak to her," he allowed. "But I won't promise anything more than that."

Orion laid a hand on his wife's arm and shook his head before she could start screeching again about disrespect. He knew that sort of reaction from Walburga could well make the boy change his mind, just to be stubborn and contrary. Their eldest was a hard-headed boy.

"That's fine," Orion said. "A meeting has been arranged for tomorrow morning at ten."

And they returned to dinner, Orion satisfied, Walburga annoyed, Regulus still shocked, and Sirius looking quite pensive.

Sirius stood outside the door, fidgeting and nervous. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax and take on that confident, even arrogant air he could play so well. Despite his seeming concession the night before he still refused to be married off, given away like some house-elf just to salve the family reputation. As far as he was concerned the Black name was already stained beyond redemption. No, the reason he had agreed to the meeting was, to be perfectly honest, pure curiosity. He couldn't pass up the chance to meet this Peverell witch, who had come out of nowhere to defeat You-Know-Who in a rather epic battle.

Taking one more deep breath he nodded and strode into the parlour without bothering to knock. Immediately his parents, who were seated opposite a stranger and facing the doorway through which he entered, looked toward him. Orion frowned disapprovingly, but Walburga was much more vocal.

"What is Merlin's name are you wearing?" she screeched, taking in the Muggle attire he had rebelliously donned for the meeting.

Sirius noticed with amusement that the stranger, Peverell no doubt, made no effort to hide her distaste for the caterwauling. What he could see of the figure cringed, hands rising to cover offended ears. The very blatant actions actually worked and, miracle of miracles, his banshee of a mother shut up, looking a little flustered. Sirius mentally added a few points to Peverell for managing that.

Speaking of Peverell, from what little he could see of the back of her seated form on an armchair, she was tall with short black hair. Shockingly short actually, for a pureblood, especially a pureblood witch. His mother must have been scandalised when first she saw it, but Sirius generally approved of anything that bucked the stodgy pureblood trends, and so a grin quirked at the corner of his lips.

And then Peverell turned in her seat to face him, and his breath caught in awe.

Green eyes and power, was the first thing to strike him. Peverell had most vividly green eyes he'd ever seen and as they met his own Sirius could, for a moment, practically feel the sheer magical power this person possessed. And then green eyes blinked and the feeling of power was gone. No, not gone, but reigned in. He was very sure, quite suddenly, that Peverell's power had just as much to do with his parents agreeing to a betrothal as had the boosting of the Black name.

And then he noticed something else, something that was really quite obvious, and his jaw dropped. He'd come down this morning to meet Peverell, the witch who apparently wished to be his wife. Only he must have gotten his incantations muddled somewhere along the way because the face he was looking at was not that of a witch at all, but instead a wizard. Peverell was a wizard. Peverell was a wizard? His would-be wife was actually a would-be husband?

"You're a bloke!" Sirius found himself blurting rather inelegantly.

Lips twitched all around. His mother's in anger, his father's in disapproval and hidden amusement, and Peverell's in undisguised humour.

Not just humour lay in those eyes though, Sirius realised through his haze of shock. No, because green orbs were sweeping his form with a sort of interest he was familiar with. He wondered if perhaps he'd made a mistake with his Muggle attire. While the boots, tight jeans, tee-shirt and leather jacket had seemed nothing more than a satisfyingly rebellious choice when he dressed, now he was reminded of just how good he looked. Something which the green-eyed wizard was obviously noticing too.

"Won't you join us?" Peverell finally spoke.

Sirius, unexpectedly, felt the tiniest of shivers run down his spine at the sound of the deep, smooth voice. Immediately after though he realised how much a moron he was acting, what with the staring and such. He snapped his mouth shut finally and straightened, adopting that confident air of his once more, and strode over to the sitting area. There he dropped into a chair, kicked his booted feet up onto the coffee table with casual insolence and smirked at his audience.

"So, you must be the famous Peverell, who offed mother dearest's beloved Dark Lord."

Harry didn't bother to hide his huff of laughter as, at Sirius's comment, Walburga stiffened and her husband rather firmly gripped her arm to prevent her from screeching again.

He looked at Sirius, eyes trailing the figure once more as he now lounged in an armchair. He was so much like he remembered and yet conversely so different. He was younger, healthier. Stronger in body and most especially spirit. The moment he'd caught the teen's gaze had been so shocking, even though he'd been expecting it, that he'd actually lost control of the veils over his magic for a moment. It was something he'd not done for a while. Well, not without purpose and intention.

Sirius raised a brow at his continued staring. There was a casual arrogance about the teen before him that Harry remembered seeing occasionally in the post-Azkaban version of the man. Though at the moment he could tell a lot of it was just a mask. Brash false-confidence to cover uncertainty. He'd seen Sirius's shock at the sight of him and then heard that blurted comment. He realised the teen's parents must have omitted the knowledge of Harry's gender when informing him of the betrothal.

He imagined how he must look to Sirius. His eyes, which had always been admired, had become even more striking in shade after his magical maturity, which had been made all the more powerful by the Hallows. When he unleashed his magic they practical shimmered. Then there was his hair, as black as always. He'd taken during the war to cutting it short, almost brutally so, for practicality. He'd kept up the habit afterwards, finding it easier to manage. Without the longer messy locks to distract, his features looked sharper. Fierce, Ginny had once told him. Exotic and dangerous, according to Hermione.

"That would be me," he finally said, in answer to Sirius's question. "Harry Peverell, defeater of Dark Lords and general trouble-magnet. I'd offer you my card, but I left it in another set of robes," he joked dryly. "And you, must be Sirius Black." Harry then turned to Mrs and Mr Black. "You agreed that Sirius and I might have a private audience."

The two, with some reluctance, nodded and retreated from the room. Sirius, he saw, was fidgeting a bit nervously at being alone with him, but mostly succeeding in appearing calm and cool.

"So," the teen spoke up boldly despite his nerves, "why in Merlin's name did you decide you wanted to marry me of all people? Not that I wouldn't be a bloody good catch, but I imagine you have them queuing up since offing Voldy. Plus, you know," Sirius added, a bit spitefully, "might've been nice if you actually got to know me before sneaking about with my parents to have me sold off without even asking my opinion."

Immediately Sirius stilled, realising what he'd said, or rather to whom he'd said it. That is to say, he'd just smarted off to a very powerful wizard who'd just defeated Voldemort himself, a feat Dumbledore hadn't even managed. To his credit though Sirius didn't back down or apologise. He just raised an expectant brow and waited tensely for a response.

"You think I'd petition for a betrothal without doing my research first?" Harry returned coolly, raising his own brow. "I did get to know you before deciding I wanted you, just from afar rather than in person."

"Really?" Doubt was clear in Sirius's question, but so too was curiosity. "And what do you think you know about me then?"

"Well…" Harry considered before deciding to be blunt. "You're brave—"

"I'm a Gryffindor," Sirius broke in, sounding unimpressed. "That one's kind of a given."

"—but," Harry continued as if he'd not been interrupted, "you're also reckless. You're proud and confident, but arrogant and insecure." Sirius shifted uncomfortably at this last, but clenched his jaw and said nothing. "You can be a light-hearted prankster, but your jokes can sometimes verge well into bullying. You're compassionate andincredibly loyal towards your friends. You'd die for them, without a second thought, before you'd ever betray them," Harry said, letting his admiration be heard in his tone. "But on the other hand, towards those you consider enemies you can be cruel, vicious and remorseless. You've a shining soul, Sirius Black, but you've darkness to you as well."

And now Sirius was staring at him, eyes wide and filled with … something. Surprise, definitely. Confusion and a touch of awe too. And something else. Perhaps the teensiest bit of enthrallment, of the non-magical kind?

"How do you know all that?"

"I know you, Sirius. Good and bad. And I stand by my choice. You're the one I want." And now of course, Sirius looked a bit lost and unsure how to respond. So Harry extended a hand towards him. "Come here."


"You're not sure what to say," Harry said, laying out plainly what he was sure was Sirius' state of mind. "You came here today intending to reject me outright, and now I've captured your attention and you're not so completely confident that would be the right idea. I intrigue you, and you're attracted to me on that level at least. So come here, and we'll see if you mightn't be attracted to me on another level as well. A physical level." Still Sirius hesitated, so Harry let some of his power slip out into his next words. "Come here Sirius," whispered from his mouth, even as his magic whispered the same, coaxing, urging.

Almost dazedly, Sirius rose to his feet and approached. When he was close enough Harry snagged his hand and tugged him to sit on the coffee table before his own seat. And all the while he kept up that slow, enthralling trickle of power. Perhaps it was cheating a bit, influencing Sirius this way, especially when he probably had no idea what was happening, but Harry hadn't gone to all the effort he had only to lose for having played fair. No, he was playing to win.

And so Harry slid to the edge of his seat. He released his grip on Sirius's hand to trail his up the boy's arm and across shoulder and collar bone, then traced up his throat where an Adam's apple bobbed with a hard swallow, finally coming to a stop cradling a strong jaw with fingers just edging into the soft hair behind the ear. His second hand came to rest at Sirius's hip even as the first tugged the boy's head up towards his.

He kept the kiss gentle at first, just a whisper of contact, as his thumb rubbed back and forth across as surprisingly soft cheek. When Sirius relaxed enough to let out a quiet sigh Harry tilted his head and pressed more firmly, daring to suck the boy's lower lip into his mouth, swiping at it with his tongue briefly before releasing and continuing the kiss. He hid a smirk as the action succeeded in causing Sirius's breath to catch, then to lean further into the kiss, a hand coming up to clutch at the front of Harry's robe.

When finally Harry pulled back he was smugly pleased to see Sirius's cheeks were flushed pink, his lips were a touch redder than normal, and his eyes were dark with want. And all that from a kiss that hadn't really been all that wanton. Of course, Harry had been feeding his magic to Sirius all throughout, in a wave of soft warmth and treacly want, enhancing every pleasure Sirius felt. Sometimes, it was so very useful being the most powerful wizard alive.

"So, I'd say that's a yes."

"W-what?" Sirius stammered most uncharacteristically, blinking rapidly.

"The physical attraction? I'd say that's definitely there too."

"Oh, yeah," Sirius said with perhaps more honest eagerness than he'd usually allow, as some clarity came to his features then, followed by a flush of embarrassment and an effort to appear less affected. "I mean, I suppose it wasn't bad." Harry just smiled knowingly till Sirius defensively asked, "What?"

Without warning Harry slid the hand still at Sirius's jaw around to behind his neck, jerked his head back up again, and dove into a kiss far more intense and passionate that the last. He nibbled at lips and tangled with tongue and lapped at the inside of Sirius's mouth, all the while pouring waves of lustful magic at the boy, until he was little more than an incoherent, moaning puddle. He doubted Sirius even noticed as the hand at his hip slid around his back, and he was lifted from the coffee table to straddle Harry's lap.

This time when Harry ended the kiss Sirius lay pliant against his chest, breathing very deeply, eyes completely glazed, and whimpering softly without thought as his tilted his chin weakly up, as if seeking for Harry to claim his lips once more. Harry just chuckled and shifted in his armchair, shuffling back and reclining slightly. The sound and the movement roused Sirius just enough to be embarrassed at his actions, which were not at all those of the confident seducer he liked to portray himself as. Rather, he had been acting the part of the one being skilfully seduced.

"So, yes to the physical attraction, right?" Harry asked.


"Be truthful with me Sirius," he urged with words and magic.

"Yes," Sirius admitted in a whisper.

"And intellectually attracted too, with your intrigue?"


"And what about magically Sirius?" And he let a wave of power, blatant this time and unmistakable, project outwards. In his lap the boy shook. "Are you attracted to me magically as well?"

"Yes." And the whisper was shaky with want.

"So would it really be so terrible, being my husband?"

"I- I'm not sure."

"Hmm, so something's still holding you back." Harry traced a hand absently up and down Sirius's spine, above his shirt but beneath his leather jacket, and had to hide a pleased smile as the touch made Sirius shiver. "Is it your family? I had the impression you weren't close to them, but if you're not ready to leave your parents' home … is that it?

"No," was the firm reply. "I can't wait to get out of here." He then added, tongue loosened by magic, "I was thinking of running away to the Potter's place."

"Ah, your friend James's home, I take it. Why haven't you yet, if that's what you want?" he asked, and then had to press more coaxing magic on the boy as he hesitated to answer.

"Don't want to be a burden," Sirius admitted reluctantly. "Mother's always said I was a burden. Well, that and a disgrace. Still, don't want to be a burden on the Potters. They've always been good to me, you know. Too good. If I had gold enough to pay my way then maybe … but mother cut off access to my trust vault."

"The Peverell vaults are very well funded you know, and you'd have access to it. Not that it matters, since as my husband you'd be mine to take care of. Not a burden," he whispered, teasing carefully with his magic, "Never a burden. Cherished." Sirius shivered at the word, and Harry had a hunch. "Would you like that Sirius?" he asked. "To be mine? To be taken care of? To be," he added cunningly, but with honest promise, "the most important person in my world, cherished beyond all others." And now Sirius was clutching tightly at him, pressing close, though he felt the boy may not have even noticed he was doing so. Harry leaned closer to whisper right in his ear, laying magic heavily over the boy. "Do you want to belong Sirius?"

"Yes," Sirius cried then, voice almost desperate as it caught on a sob.

Well, Harry thought to himself, wrapping arms around Sirius to hold him close. Well, it seemed they were more alike than he'd thought. Like him, Sirius had grown up with unloving parents who made him feel he was a burden. Like him, he had made a best friend who he envied terribly for his wonderful family. And like him, Sirius wanted more than anything to belong to someone, to be first in someone's eyes, beloved above all else. And that was the key, he now knew, to winning Sirius's consent. He could have shouted in joy, knowing his victory was now imminent.

Very soon they were kissing again, desperate wet kisses, and hands were wandering, pulling at clothes. Harry shoved Sirius's jacket from his shoulders and then tugged his shirt up and off. Unwilling to let Sirius get away from him for even a moment he simply dragged his hands up the boy's jean-covered legs, denim fading from existence with the passing of his touch. His own robes Harry simply vanished with a thought. And then his hand slid down Sirius's back, slipped into the crease, circling then pressing inside.

He was hurried in his preparation, so impatient that he whispered words, using magic to make Sirius properly ready. In moments he was gripping firmly at the boy's hips and pulling him down, even as he himself thrust up, and they were joined. Sirius gasped and he groaned, and then they were moving, Harry's hands, still at those hips, directing him to raise and lower himself to the rhythm he wished. For a while he just lay back, watching the beautiful sight of the boy riding him, till he began to get impatient.

He urged Sirius to speed his pace, but it wasn't enough. Harry drew his knees up, dug his heels into the edge of the chair, and starting thrusting in counterpoint. Sirius tried to keep up as his thrusts grew faster and faster and more and more fierce, but before too long all he could do was bury his face in Harry's neck and hold on. The desperate sounds Sirius made grew more and more urgent and Harry's grunts became harsher and harsher. And then suddenly Sirius went rigid with a loud cry, then slumped, shaking against him. Twice more Harry thrust, before he joined him in release.

Harry laid there, still buried deep inside the body of the boy sprawled limply across his chest, breathing deeply. He could feel the magic, his own and Sirius's both, heavy in the air around them, in the way it always did after sex for wizards and witches. But it was fading slowly, and Harry knew he had to complete the process before it did so entirely. He wrapped his arms around Sirius, holding him tightly.

"Mine," he whispered, "My husband."

Of its own accord, his magic in the air about them began to vibrate with intent.

A pause, and then, "Yours. Your husband."

Sirius's magic began to vibrate too.



And the magics began to combine and swirl about them.

"Mine," he said one last time, because these things always did work in threes.

A hesitation, and Harry's breath caught until, "Yours," Sirius finally whispered.

It was like an explosion. Light flashed as the magic in the air surged and blended and then coiled about them both. It pulsed and sunk into their skin and with that, it was done. The betrothal had been finalised with the consummation and declarations, and they were now married in the eyes of magic.

Sirius belonged to Harry.

For a moment he almost felt guilty for how he had manipulated the situation, and he wasn't just talking about the magical compulsions. He wasn't even referring to the fact that, as much as the name Peverell had become his by right since mastering the Hallows, he was actually Sirius's best friend's son and Sirius's own godson-to-be. No, the lie of omission he was thinking of was one of far greater relevance.

Sirius's answer might have been far less certain, Harry suspected, if he'd known that in a few short weeks his Uncle Alphard was due to die, leaving him gold enough to run away to live with the Potters without fear of being a burden. But, as Harry had decided earlier, he played to win. He'd defied time and fate itself to go back and find his godfather again. And now he'd found him, he intended to keep him always.

Yes, Sirius belonged to Harry now, and this time, Harry would never let him go.

The End

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