Rated NC-17 for sex. Lots of it.
Many thanks to Dawnatello for the beta!
Feedback is very welcome: stickpegasus@hotmail.com

 

The sound of his heavy footfalls seemed magnified in the darkness of the street. Though he was weary, exhausted even, his stride was consistent and his head held high. He paused on the road where number twelve was not, thought for a moment with his eyes shut, and opened them; then walked to the front stoop that had materialized. With his wand he unlocked the door and dispelled the wards around it so that he could pass.

Uncanny canine hearing had detected his arrival and he was accosted in the dark. He'd barely shut the door when from a darkened corner appeared the one who'd waited up for him, the only one who would ever do so. Strong arms encircled him, a gesture which he moved immediately to mirror, and a tense form relaxed almost instantly at the touch.

Remus sighed in to Sirius's shoulder. "I missed you, Sirius," he said softly.

The arms held him tighter. "I missed you too." His voice was a low rumbling deep in his throat. Remus could feel it against his cheek.

It felt like he'd been traveling for years the way he melted against Sirius's warm body. Broad palms traveled up his back, one to rest possessively on his shoulder and the other to lay on his hair. Elegant fingers carded through his soft brown hair, sifting through the gray strands over and over.

"Is anyone else here?" Remus tried to sound awake and chipper but his voice betrayed him. He was so tired.

"No. Just me. Kingsley was here a few days ago and Molly has been in and out all this week..." Remus could hear the bitterness, subtle as it lay, in his voice, and rubbed a hand slowly over the small of Sirius's back. "How did it go?"

Those fingers were still in his hair. He pressed his body closer to Sirius. "It went rather better than I expected. I wasn't discovered and I didn't have to duel my way out of Nott's house, either. Almost too easy, you know? From what I gather Nott isn't important enough to know where those Death Eaters are hiding, but it seems they're planning a raid on the Ministry very soon. Perhaps within the week."

"I see." He pulled back a bit to look Remus in the face.

"Have you talked to Dumbledore lately?"

"Not since—" he paused a moment, thinking, "Tuesday. I believe. Did you see him just now?"

"No. I wanted to see you first. I doubt he would have told you where I've been, and I thought you deserved to be the first to know."

He smiled, a real, honest-to-god Sirius smile, subdued as it was. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

Reluctant, Remus disentangled himself from Sirius's arms. "I should draft an owl straight away though. The code hasn't been broken yet?"

"Not the newest one, no. We haven't had many problems with intercepted owls since Dumbledore's left Hogwarts, you know."

Remus nodded. He reached for Sirius's right hand with his left and they made their way to the library, where Remus pulled out quill and parchment and encoded his observations in the vaguest sense possible.

"There," he said, when he had finished. The scrawled marks resembled Arabic and filled half the sheet. "That should satisfy him enough for the moment. Other things can be clarified tomorrow. And the rest—"

"The rest can wait, my dear," Sirius growled, and he leaned in close. The brush of their lips was so soft that Remus wasn't entirely sure they had touched, but their noses bumped, and he tilted his head slightly and opened his mouth for more.

Sirius led them from the library and in to their bedroom.

He'd dropped to his knees then, his fingers dipping below Remus's waistband and raking maddeningly through the rough hairs he found there. Deftly he unbuttoned Remus's trousers and freed his hips from them, rubbing a warm hand slowly down his hardening length. He heard Remus's breath catch in his throat, felt him shiver, and as he lowered his lips to brush so softly over him a deep moan erupted from his chest. The sound of it dripped down Sirius's spine, thick and warm.

His hands roamed over his thighs, his back, his ass; one paused to splay possessively across his lower abdomen, sweaty palm fusing to his flesh. Sirius gloried in his lover's arousal, loved the feel of his hands as they tangled in his hair.

Another low moan spilled from Remus's throat as deep tremors gripped his entire body. Sirius wrapped both arms around his pale thighs, holding him up, coaxing his semen from him with his lips and his tongue. A sharp cry signaled his orgasm, and it gripped Remus as tightly as Sirius's arms around him did. Remus came in his mouth, warming him as other fine intoxicants were inclined to as his seed slid down his throat to gather, hot, in the pit of his belly. He lapped greedily at him until Remus slid bonelessly to the floor.

Hours later they lay curled around each other, lethargic, their limbs heavy with sleep. Their hands rubbed without hurry across bare chests, up long backs. Their lips were fused together in slow, deliberate kisses, and their bodies gradually responded to one another. There was no hurry, not now, for they had all the time in the world.

~*~

He was brooding by himself at the kitchen table a week later when Kreacher wandered in to the long room. Sirius saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and was momentarily startled.

"Where have you been?" Sirius demanded half-heartedly. The gleeful grin on the elf's face worried him a bit.

"Master! Kreacher was hoping to find you here—"

"Where else would I be?"

"Exactly, that's the trouble of it, filthy creature he is, with his filthy pet half-breed..." He grumbled, perfectly audibly, under his breath for a moment. "Kreacher was visiting Master's cousin. In Wiltshire."

Sirius felt the blood fall from his face. When he spoke, his voice was strained. "Wh- what?"

"Yes, lovely Narcissa, Master. Kreacher thinks Master should know that right now the Dark Lord has Harry Potter in the Department of Mysteries!" The elf could barely contain himself. Narcissa Malfoy had, of course, told him to tell Sirius this, and he would have to punish himself later for lying to the master of the house he was bound to, but he felt it was worth it.

Sirius felt sick. He never believed Kreacher capable of lying to him, so of course he believed the trap. He raised pale, shaking hands to cover his face. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Are you SURE, Kreacher? Tell me! Is this true?!" His own words echoed in his mind—they seemed so long ago. ‘You'd be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to,' and damn it, he was right.

A malicious grin from the elf and his heart was plunged in to ice water. He grabbed some Floo powder and tried to contact Dumbledore... his heart pounded in his throat as he waited for someone, anyone to answer his calls, but no one came. He tried The Burrow, he tried McGonagall's and even Snape's fires. No answers. Any of them. Frantic, he reached in his back pocket for his two-way mirror.

"Harry! Harry, oh, god, have the blasted thing with you! Oh, shit..." Nothing.

"Remus?" He asked again in to the mirror. "I know you have it on you! For Christ's sake... Remus!!" As he rubbed a shaking hand over his pale face, he did not see Kreacher block his communication with Remus. "I'm wasting time, what if—no, no, not yet, but I have to hurry..." He ran up the steps three at a time, ignored his mother's scathing cries, and bolted out the front door. He stuck his wand in to the waistband of his trousers as he transformed in to Padfoot, not pausing a moment. The dog's leaping stride carried him through the streets of London to the Ministry of Magic.

Remus always kept his two-way mirror in the breast pocket of his cloak, so of course he heard Sirius's urgent, pleading voice calling him. He was walking through London, tailing Lucius Malfoy, who was heading for the Ministry. He stopped dead in his tracks and pulled the mirror from his pocket. He peered in to it. "Sirius, what is it?" He saw nothing but black, not even his own reflection, and faintly he heard Sirius trying to speak to him in a horrible, desperate voice, but then the cries abruptly cut themselves off.

It took precisely half a second for him to decide to drop Malfoy. He apparated as close to Grimmauld Place as he dared, and ran to the house. With a tap of his wand he opened the door (he thanked whomever may have been responsible that Sirius had insisted on letting his wand open the door) and hurried inside. Calling through the house for Sirius, with no reply.

"YOU!! WRETCHED PET HALF-BREED! HOW DARE YOU EVEN ENTER—" Remus ignored the portrait and ran to the kitchen to try to rouse someone through the Floo.

And then he saw Kreacher, curled up in the corner near the stove, cackling horribly, his hands heavily bandaged.

Remus's eyes widened at the sight, and worry filled his chest. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, KREACHER?"

The deadly tone in his voice cut through the shrill laughter.

"Oh, it's the wretched half-breed, again like he owns the place. How vile."

"Where is Sirius?" His voice was quieter, but it shook with suppressed panic.

"Master has gone out," he said, matter-of-factly.

Remus clenched his teeth.

"Don't make me force it out of you."

"It is not Kreacher's duty to tell the half-breed Master's secrets, no, it is not."

Remus turned away from Kreacher with disgust. "Very well then." He bit the words off as he spoke them.

He pulled the mirror from his pocket once more and laid it on the tabletop. "Sirius!" He cried. His reflection in the mirror shorted for a moment, then everything went black again. "Oh, god," he breathed. He drew his wand and thought for a few moments. Where could Sirius have possibly gone? Apparently he'd heard something definitive, been unable to contact anyone, and whatever the news had been it was urgent. He racked his brain. /The only thing Sirius would risk being caught for is Harry,/ he thought. /Or me.../ he added as an afterthought. /But Harry is at Hogwarts, safe, he knew that, because he would have been contacted immediately if he wasn't, right? Kreacher must have lied to him and then stopped him getting ahold of anyone, oh, for fuck's sake, I have to fix this bloody mirror.../ He cast several restorative spells before something other than his blackened reflection was fuzzily revealed. He squinted and turned the mirror in several angles. It was Sirius's back pocket, he realized, but at the very top he could see a bit of something else. A large room, polished wood floors... A fountain. The Fountain of Magical Brethren. /Oh god, he's at the Ministry of Magic. He's been caught./ Remus nearly apparated from the kitchen—he was about to speak the incantation before he stopped himself in horror. He would surely have been splinched, and then where would that have gotten them?

The Ministry was empty when Sirius arrived. He dialed the number and stated his intentions to the visitor's entrance, and bolted across the deserted entrance hall to the lift. It didn't even cross his mind, for perhaps the first time in his life, to scoff at the Fountain of Magical Brethren; nor did it strike him as odd that Sirius Black was allowed entry to the Ministry of Magic, no questions asked.

He'd pored over the layout of this building a thousand times, planning protection strategies and determining weak points, and thank god he'd had so much time to do it because it was useful now, finally, something he'd done wasn't a waste. He knew exactly how to get to the Department of Mysteries, and he was certain he knew exactly where Voldemort would have Harry.

He charged through the corridors and before he knew it, he was in the Department of Mysteries, and it was deserted. He was too concerned for Harry to think that odd. He stood in the center of the circular room, black doors making a ring around him, and he tried to clear his mind to find the correct path. He knew how to get there, knew how to make the room work for him, because while everyone had ignored him in Grimmauld Place he had done his homework. He could feel the protective spells in the room, sensed their power and tried to align it with his own, humming loudly in his veins. One of these doors would lead him to the Hall of Prophecy, and the magic would guide him if he concentrated hard enough—ah, now the room spun around him and screeched to a halt. He rushed forward and opened the door that had halted before him, and sure enough, it had worked, his research had paid off. Now if only his luck would hold out. He ran to the corridor, it was around here somewhere; soon, he knew it, yes... Now to the end, and there was the Prophecy, still safe on the shelf, but... Harry was not here.

Well, that didn't make sense.

If Voldemort had Harry he would have taken the Prophecy, or he would still be here, trying to get Harry to take the Prophecy... damn it, he'd been tricked. A diversion? Lured from Headquarters, and now would the Death Eaters move on Headquarters? Kreacher had lied to him, the little bastard. "You'd be surprised at what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Sirius," he mumbled, ruefully. He stood for a moment, staring at the little glass ball, deep in thought.

Until he heard steady footsteps in the Hall.

The person walking towards him was tall and thin, and he couldn't see his head beneath the hood of his cloak, but he raised his wand anyway. Perhaps he'd been lured here for a reason other than emptying Grimmauld Place.

"Who the hell are you?" He growled.

"Temper, temper, Black, I would have thought that perhaps in your position you would have been more careful." He recognized the high, cold voice, and anger flared hot in his chest. "I could call for the Dementors now, if you wish, they would be most pleased to get their hands on you, I suppose... But perhaps that would be too hasty."

"I'd rather you not," he said, his voice deathly quiet. "Where is my godson?"

"Ah, I was hoping you could help me with that."

Sirius fixed him with a cold stare. "Never."

"Shame. Ah, yes, it really is a shame that you feel the need to be so... loyal. And noble. Needless, really. The one to whom you owe your allegiance will never find out that you were helpful. I certainly won't tell him. And you will never again be in such a position. Perhaps a bit more persuasion? /Crucio./"

God, the pain was excruciating, and his knees buckled under the weight of it. His entire body exploded with pain, it felt as though he were being scorched, turned inside-out, and eaten alive; he could hardly breathe through the pain. It coursed through him in wave after searing wave, and his body curled in on itself and twitched. He couldn't hear, couldn't see, couldn't even think—his mind could not register anything beyond the pain, and it never wrapped around the thought that he hurt, because his brain just wouldn't function, and he nearly passed out. His senses were on overload, surely another moment of this and he would crack, wouldn't he? Wouldn't he? God, he couldn't stand it if he made him tell him. And he didn't know how much more of it he could take, but he knew that right now he surely wasn't going to ask him to stop.

And then, suddenly, it stopped.

When Voldemort lifted his wand it took Sirius a moment to recall what had happened. His body seemed to be in shock... it had been a very long time indeed since he had felt the Cruciatus curse, and he was sure that Voldemort's was quite a bit more powerful than any he'd felt before. He was vaguely aware, on the edge of his consciousness, of iniquitous laughter. He forced himself to stand, though his legs shook and would hardly hold him. All the color had drained from his face; his breath came in ragged gasps, and he was so vertiginous that part of him was afraid he would faint. He fought to keep his balance. His hand shook as he gripped his wand, but he raised it with surprising grace and pointed it rather steadily at Voldemort.

"Not had enough? I thought you were rather foolish. But we should at least make it interesting—I have heard you are quite skilled at dueling," his thin lips curved upward in a grotesque mockery of a smile, his eyes flickered maliciously. "I suppose we should observe the niceties, at least," he said smoothly, inclining his head slightly at Sirius.

Sirius nodded curtly, once, and the duel began. He deflected a vicious cutting curse right away, and he gave as good as he got.

The air was charged with a frightening intensity, and Sirius could feel the power in it, it made his skin tingle and his blood quicken, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. God, it was seductive, and he craved to harness it for just long enough to use it. He recalled a promise he'd once made to himself—to keep his honor, to not stoop to their level—and knew that there were exceptions to every rule, and now was one of them. Not too many were ever given the warped privilege of dueling Voldemort personally; he couldn't afford to restrict his defenses.

A violent wrench of Voldemort's wand sent a wave of malice at him and he dodged it just in time, twisting his body to the side. The very air was scorched as it passed him. Sirius's responding curse was deflected quickly. They parried and attacked with outstanding velocity, their wands mere blurs through the air, their shouts an uninterrupted cacophony of sound. Without either noticing, they had moved in to the open.

Sirius broke Voldemort's shield charms as quickly as he cast them, and the frustration was evident upon the snakelike features. This was to be no simple walk in the park. Unfortunately he was going to have to work for what he wanted, this time.

He wasn't sure if it was the Cruciatus curse or another form of destructive spell that knocked him off his feet, but Sirius was certain he was hit with both. He nearly passed out from the pain. It was probably impossible to block a Cruciatus curse with that strength, he reflected feebly when it had been lifted. Somewhere on his face he was bleeding freely, and it clouded his vision with red, and vaguely he could hear someone speaking.

"You duel very well, Black. It would have been most helpful to have you serve me."

His eyes narrowed, and he pulled himself off the ground once again. "Never," he said.

"Really. Are you certain? /Imperio./ You have something I want. Tell me how to get the Potter boy, and I will spare your life. For now." He laughed again, chillingly. "Care to enlighten me, Black?"

Wouldn't it be so much easier to do it? He could feel his body slide in to a haze, and it was so much more comfortable than the residual pain had been... go on, just—"You'll have to kill me," he growled, his face bloodless. "I will not crack under torture like you would have me do. Good will triumph, because if the darkness were to encroach, there would still be those loyal to decency. We do not threaten our ranks with the penalty of death and torture, and they have enough respect for our cause to hold fast against what they know to be evil. You will get nothing from me."

"How very touching. I know, though, that you have not yet outlived your usefulness. /Crucio./"

Sirius was crushed under the weight of it and the curse still came, sharper and harder than before. He heard his own voice screaming, somewhere far away, and he fought against it, even though it hurt more when he did so. He would not give in to this; let him torture him to madness, but he would never tell, he was through with betrayals.

What little color there was in Remus's face drained away as he heard Sirius screaming. He hurtled through the corridors of the Department of Mysteries and somehow found himself in the Hall of Prophecy, though he could not replay the journey in his preoccupied mind. The screaming had stopped and he could hear, vaguely, mordant laughter echoing spectrally across the cathedral-like ceiling. He followed it with speed and stealth that Moody would have been proud of. As he lessened the distance he could hear his lover's voice, strained, low; the rich tones had been whittled away to a rumbling growl.

There, at the end of this hallway. A tall man shrouded in cloak, covering a dark, quivering shape with his wand. The dark shape had a face, of course, it was raised in defiance; how fury and pain did twist the lovely features. Impossibly pale.

"...and they have enough respect for our cause to hold fast against what they know to be evil. You will get nothing from me."

Remus's heart twisted at the eloquence. Sirius had always believed in this, this something that was so much larger than them all, his loyalty had never once wavered. And now here he was... Remus would not let Sirius die for this. Not now.

He crept toward the cloaked man, who dismissed Sirius's words with a ruthless twist of his wand. Fresh shrieks erupted from Sirius, unnatural sounds that should never fall from such beautiful lips. Remus was overcome with fury at the cloaked man. He'd recognized the casual utterance of the Cruciatus curse. Voldemort wanted to kill Sirius. Personally.

Remus realized with a jerk that Sirius had fallen silent. Merlin, he must have passed out, he had to stop Voldemort—

A blast from his wand hit Voldemort in the shoulder. Remus stood less than five paces from him, his wand pointing straight at him, but he could not bring himself to speak the words that would kill him when Voldemort had his back turned. So he just vied for his attention, and his cutting curse got it.

Voldemort whirled around furiously. "You!" He spat, trying to compose himself. His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps I will have better luck with you. Black would not assist me, would you care to, werewolf?"

"Never." He replied, his face contorted with rage.

He'd anticipated a duel, and he got one. Hard and fast and the most challenging fight Remus had ever been a part of. He never took his eyes off of Voldemort and he met him curse for curse.

"The Aurors will certainly be on their way," Remus said coolly, smoothly dodging something that would surely have taken his head off.

"I dare them to come," Voldemort said.

"Will you have such arrogance in the face of Albus Dumbledore?"

Ah. That had done the trick. The Dumbledore card. Voldemort missed a beat in his offense.

"Yes, I did say Dumbledore. I sent for him before I arrived here. It is only a matter of time before he comes as well." Remus hoped his poker face was as good as it used to be. He had done no such thing as smart as to send for help—his only thought was to get to Sirius.

Neither cast a spell, though their wands were still pointing at each others' hearts. Eyeing each other, stepping in a careful circle around each other, they looked very much like two lions preparing for the kill.

"And you've overlooked something: you need Harry in order to lift the Prophecy. Or had you forgotten? Harry is not here. Neither Sirius nor I can bring him. I would think it rather foolish to be caught, by Dumbledore, doing foolish things."

"Too smart for your own good, werewolf. It is indeed a shame you have chosen your loyalties to lie with that old fool." Though his words were unruffled, in his eyes Remus saw fear.

/Ah, but they lie right here, with this young fool,/ he thought, his eye straying to Sirius for a split second.

And in that split second Voldemort saw his escape—a flash of silver light erupted where he had stood.

Warily Remus looked around for any sign of him. Casting a shield charm over himself, he ran to Sirius's side, shielding him as well.

"Oh, god, please don't be dead." He was breathing, good-- but just barely. "Please be all right. Sirius," he begged. "/Ennervate,/" he said, his wand gently at Sirius's heart. With his sleeve he wiped the blood from his pale face. The body beneath him lurched once and then Remus took Sirius in his arms.

"Moony?" His voice was so feeble... "Oh god, Moony, I thought I'd never..."

"Shh, shh, it's all right, you're all right, Sirius, I'm here," his hands spread along Sirius's bony back, holding the weight comfortably. "God, you're so cold," he said, and pulled him closer. He pried one hand away long enough to cast warming charms over Sirius, then healed the ghastly cut on his forehead. Brushing fringe out of Sirius's eyes, his hand lingered on that pale face, and he felt Sirius lean in to his touch.

"Here," he said, digging in the pocket of his robes for his emergency stash of chocolate. "Eat this."

Sirius raised a shaking hand and took the chocolate from him. He loved whoever had invented chocolate, and he loved Remus even more for loving it, for the rich concoction seemed to banish his exhaustion and warm him from the inside out.

"Are you all right?" Remus asked softly.

Sirius considered this for a moment. "Yeah. I think so. Just a little—well, all right, damned achy, but I think I'm all right."

"Can you stand?" Remus leaned up slightly.

Without answering Sirius pulled himself to his feet, with Remus's help, and stood on shaky legs. "Yes."

"Good. Let's get you out of here."

Sirius felt weak; he leaned heavily on Remus as they walked out of the Hall of Prophecy. He nibbled at his chocolate, and perhaps it was psychosomatic, but he thought he did feel better. He was a bit more steady as they exited the lift and walked through the atrium.

"Magical Brethren my ass," Sirius scoffed as they passed the fountain.

"Ah, I knew you were all right," Remus teased. When they reached the entryway Remus turned to Sirius and embraced him.

"Thank you, Remus. For saving my life—"

"Not at all, Padfoot old friend." He ran a hand through Sirius's hair. "You would have done the same for me." They kissed softly, just once, and in their eyes glinted love and loyalty and just a bit of desperate madness. They apparated back to headquarters.

It all culminated as they crossed the threshold of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Their world crashed down around their knees and they threw themselves at each other, devouring each other madly with lips and tongue and teeth. The nightmare that their day had brought made them desperate, made them reverent, and they kissed with a passion they had never before felt. Sirius pushed Remus against the front door with his entire body as it shut, pressed his face against Remus's as though he were trying to crawl down his throat, and even if he could have managed that it would never have been enough, he could never get enough of him. Perhaps if he could be taken every remaining second of his life (which, he thought, with a wave of horror, could have ended today so easily if not for Remus—death he could deal with, but leaving Remus behind... well. He'd sworn to himself to never allow them to be riven again), then maybe, just maybe, he would have had enough of this, of him. He twined his hands tighter through Remus's hair, ignoring the pain that lingered in his tortured body—it was his tortured soul that needed healing first of all.

Remus allowed Sirius to pin him against the door, but he pushed back against him with equal need, the friction between them was so sharp and hot that he could hardly take it any more. A guttural cry escaped between their sealed lips; Sirius's name from the depths of Remus's chest.

Suddenly Remus broke the kiss, steel gray eyes searching blue; finding a desperation in their depths that scared him. Their breath came in ragged gasps and somehow they managed to pry themselves apart long enough to arrive in the bedroom—the next thing Sirius knew was that he was being kissed, and he could feel something similar to the look Remus saw in his own eyes in those devouring lips. He wanted to be devoured, yes, wholly consumed. They fell to the bed in a tangle of limbs, hungry limbs that tore away clothing without regard to patience. When their bare flesh kissed it was as their mouths did, so passionate and forceful that the entire world disappeared and it was just them, forever, always.

Remus rolled them so that he was on top, and he hovered over his lover's pale body. He twisted his hands in to the deep black of his hair and Sirius bared his throat for him; Remus shuddered, deep. He wasted no time marking the perfect flesh, his talented mouth drawing moans and gasps from that beautiful throat. He leaned up to get better leverage against Sirius's groin, and as he pushed against him he shuddered again at the sight of him. The darkness of his hair fanned across the pillows and his skin was stained pale in contrast. Sweat laced tendrils fell across his sculpted features. His mouth was open in a silent moan, through it he heard the gasps his chest made for air (or for him- he wasn't certain). He bent over him and took his lips again.

Their kiss overwhelmed them and they delved deeper in to each others' mouths; their hands stroked and teased lust in to heated flesh.

Heat gathered low in Remus's belly and he thrust firmly against Sirius's hardness, trying to sate the pressure, and he shut his eyes against the rush. His mind spiraled in to a delicious haze and he ran his tongue along the roof of Sirius's mouth.

"Oh, god, please, Remus," Sirius managed between kisses. Remus could only moan in response. He lowered his head to press heated kisses to Sirius's neck, trailed them like fire to his collarbones. He grazed his teeth along the tender skin there, a scrape as though of fingernail, and felt Sirius shudder beneath him. He'd thrown his head back again, pressed it to the pillows and arched in to him.

His passionate hands rubbed burning trails down Sirius's body and settled at his groin. He felt Sirius's own hands on him, alternately stroking and clutching his back, his fingertips gentle and rough enough at once. Remus was dizzy with his own arousal and bit back a cry of ecstasy as Sirius's hands rested on his ass and pushed him down, their hot erections meeting roughly. He chewed mindlessly at the pale shoulder, nuzzled beneath Sirius's arms. He smelled of sex and sweat and Remus wanted more of him.

His mind had become a haze, but through it he could hear Sirius gasping and moaning feverishly. He felt his pulse quicken, knew he was desperate, knew he was close. He stilled his hands, one at his hip and the other now in his hair, and silenced the words that spilled from his throat with an overwhelming kiss.

Remus moved his hands and cradled him by the small of his back as he entered him, sheathing his entire length in that perfect warmth. Sirius's legs spread wider, and then wrapped themselves around Remus's back, pulling him deeper and holding him close. Both had shut their eyes against the intensity of it, and once Remus could go no farther in to Sirius he opened his. His chest ached with love and his groin ached with lust, but Sirius held him still and he was, for a moment, sated.

Sirius did not move at all. He lay, mouth open around a silent cry, clutching the duvet with both hands. As Remus took in the sight of him he felt a bone-deep shudder begin in him, nearly undoing him. It spread throughout his body to his cock where they were joined, and, amazed, he watched it course through Sirius. He moaned almost inaudibly.

He removed his hands from Sirius's back, and Sirius pulled him closer with his legs. They couldn't risk falling apart, not now, not ever. Remus reached up with one hand to prise Sirius's fingers from the duvet. Their hands clasped then, fingers twining comfortably, and as Remus leaned forward on his elbows he moved his other hand to Sirius's cock. He gripped it gently, and with his thumb spread leaking precome over the head. Sirius gasped softly, but remained still.

Remus leaned farther over him and tucked his face in his neck, breathing him in. Sirius's other hand freed itself from the coverlet and clutched his shoulder.

Remus lifted his head slightly; Sirius's eyes were still shut and his mouth still open in reverence. Remus touched his lips to Sirius's closed eyelids, then moved to lay a kiss at the corner of his mouth. He lapped at his lips, running his tongue along them, marveling at Sirius's control. He could feel him trembling with need, and knew that he was holding himself back in order to prolong this. Remus continued running his tongue back and forth until Sirius's own met it and they sealed their mouths together in a consuming kiss. They drank from each others' lips as though parched with thirst, and they were steeped in sex and it was heady. At last, Sirius arched against him and they moved together, creating their own piece of perfection. Reaching for something that was beyond them, and unattainable alone: this creation of something so fleetingly perfect as mournful harmony, as though each pitch were locking in to place. They wanted to hold it forever but knew they could not, so they hung on as long as they dared, and then released it, for something like that can never be forever kept.

And once it is freed, it disappears immediately in to thin air, leaving behind the full echo of resonance and memories that only pale in comparison.

Remus woke slowly to find himself being studied. Pale blue eyes roamed over his body and up to his face, adoration so thoroughly written in them.

They locked with his own.

"You're awake," Sirius whispered. He extended his hand and brushed Remus's face with his fingers.

"Mmmh. Yeah." He smiled at him sleepily. "Are you all right?"

"Never better," Sirius's face broke in to a grin.

"No, I mean... how do you feel?"

Sirius sobered a bit. "I feel like I've been cursed, if that's what you want to know. I shouldn't have let-"

"Stop. You did nothing wrong last night. And from the looks of things, you fought better than Voldemort had expected. Do you know how many prophecy records were blasted off the shelves by the time I got there? I'm very impressed, Padfoot." He smirked at him.

"Dumbledore's going to be furious—"

"Because you tried to save Harry?"

"Harry wasn't there!" Sirius spat. "I trusted that foul little—"

"What choice did you have? You couldn't afford to take the chance that he wasn't telling the truth. He is bound to you by very old magic, and I never would have thought any house elf capable of breaking that. You love Harry too much to gamble with his life, especially when faced with such a situation."

"But I could have gotten you killed," he bit off the words as he spoke them.

"I would be proud to die for you."

Sirius stared at him.

"Don't look so shocked, Sirius. You would have done the same for me." Remus reached for his hand.

Sirius was silent for a moment. "I don't know what... how I could live without you. Well. We've just proved that I cannot live without you. And I am forever in your debt. I can't... thank you enough."

"You sound so damn formal. What happened?"

"Too many brushes with death."

"Ah. Well. As for the thanking bit, you did pretty spectacularly with that last night, if I do say so myself." The grin he wore was very wolfish.

There, the teasing broke the melancholy. "Oh really," Sirius said, matter-of-factly.

They kissed for a moment, deeply, before Sirius wrenched his mouth away.

"I want to know how in the hell you got us out of there."