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He is sitting in front of me in
his chair in Potions, shoulders
hunched a little, head cocked aside. The pale smoothness of his neck
is tempting me. I bet he doesn't even realise what he is doing to me,
when he bares his neck like this. Trying to look away is a futile
attempt. I avert my eyes forcefully, but every now and then they will
be drawn back to his white skin magically.
Resisting the urge to reach out and bite Remus is getting harder
every second, with every time he tosses his head from side to side to
get rid of the kinks in his shoulders and neck. I bite my bottom lip,
suppressing a growl that threatens to rise from my throat, my fingers
clenched into fists.
I am fighting a battle against my desire, a desire that is boiling
deep inside of me and sends shivers down my spine, that evokes goose
bumps to break out all over my skin and causes my cock to harden
uncomfortably. He raises his hand to scratch a place on his back,
where a dark mole stands out in shocking contrast to his fair
complexion. I wish I could touch him like this. So casual... I would
lower my mouth on his skin, my tongue sneaking out to softly lick the
area. I would drag my lips over the skin I've sucked on, worrying it
gently with my teeth. I would suck and lick and bite, alternating
between soft and hard until little whimpers of pleasure fly from his
lips and he begs me to stop, or to continue, or maybe both.
I've dived so deep into my own imagination that I can almost taste
his flavour on my tongue. My gaze travels down his spine and I wish
my tongue could take the same path. I would feel every bump in his
spine, every shifting muscle, the tiniest scar even. He would whimper
and moan, or maybe he would growl wolfishly, who knows? And I would
listen to the wailing noises he'd make and would send my tongue lower
still, until I reached the perfectly shaped globes of his arse, until
I delved between the smooth buttocks and...
I snap out of my fantasy, shockingly aware that everybody is staring
at me. I try to smile, completely confused.
Remus has turned around in his seat and stares at me with a
bewildered look on his face. An elbow digs into my side and I turn to
James, who is trying hard not to snicker.
"You growled, Padfoot. Like in growled. Really loud," he hisses
and
amusement swings in his voice.
I feel the heat rising up in my cheeks and am glad that everything
turns back to normal after a few moments of irritation. The other
pupils turn around to face the front of the class again and I give
Professor Willsilk an apologetic look.
Still, despite my embarrassment, my current condition has not
improved. My cock is still hard as a rock and presses almost
painfully against the buttons of my corduroys. I have to do something
about it, soon. Just don't look at Remus, Black, I tell myself and
let my gaze travel over the assembled class. My eyes find those of a
fair-haired Ravenclaw, Sean Diggory , Ravenclaw's Quidditch captain .
He smiles at me, a grin that reaches from one ear to the other, and
his blue eyes sparkle. Oh yes, he will do. He will have to do.
Because I can't possibly have Remus, Remus with his amazing amber
eyes and his shy grin, his humour and his infectious laugh, his
gentleness and... I'm digressing again. I can't have Remus. That's a
fact. I've ruined my every chance. Oh how I miss him. I miss him so
much...
Sean is still glancing at me and I flash him a smile, accompanied by
a wink. A charming blush tints his cheeks and he looks away. Oh yes,
he will do.
*-*
Hogsmeade-weekend. Normally, I'd be thrilled. Today is not normally.
I don't have a good reason to stay in the castle, and to be honest, I
don't want one. I'm just so tired of hiding. Maybe when we get away
from classrooms and homework, in the fresh air where I don't have to
smell him all the time, Sirius and I can act more at ease with each
other for a change.
It all starts well enough. Over breakfast, everybody is chatty and in
good spirits. Even me. Sirius even smiles at me once while handing
me the cereal. I even smile back.
I think that maybe we can fix this still.
Three hours later, we're at Zonko's. James has the list of stuff
we'll need for the next marauding adventure he and Peter have planned
for the four of us.
It's very crowded, very hot. Sirius is standing very close to me.
Too close. My senses are on overload through the heat and all the
smells, and his scent stands out like a beacon over the lot of
Hogwarts pupils.
I always liked the way Sirius smelled. But ever since... that
night... I find his scent intoxicating, heady, almost like a call, a
magnet that draws the wolf out, seems to pull on my very bones.
The crowd moves and suddenly we're face to face, inches apart, and
it's all I can do not to growl. We lock eyes and I can't quite
decipher what I see there, only that something in these clear blue
depths triggers my flight impulse.
Hastily murmuring an apology about needing to get air, I squeeze my
way out of the shop.
Once I've reached the street, I run.
Run up the hill towards the shack, then farther and farther, until
I'm free of the village, the people, the noise.
I stop and for a while, I just breathe and try to calm my racing
breath.
It's only biology, only the werewolf who wants him, only the
biological imperative that curses my blood, that pulls us together.
But even as I think it, I know it's a lie. I know it wasn't a
coincidence that the wolf chose to mate with Sirius. I know that
Moony only acted out what I was too afraid and stubborn to do as
Remus.
I think back on the strange spark I saw in his eyes, as if he, too,
was affected by our nearness.
Maybe I wasn't mistaken when I thought he might be interested in me,
before the incident stepped in and complicated matters to an infinite
degree. Maybe I should just talk to him. Calmly, reasonably.
I turn back and walk the short way to the village, my stride quick,
but lacking the panic I felt before. I just long to get it all out
and over with.
I catch a glimpse of James and Peter when I walk past Honeydukes, and
am about to ask them if they've seen Sirius, but my nostrils catch a
whiff of him before my other senses do. I turn around and there he
is, in a side alley next to the Three Broomsticks, snogging the
tonsils out of Sean Diggory, Ravenclaw Quidditch captain.
Breathing deeply I turn again and walk away slowly, in direction of
the castle. I hear James calling me, but I ignore him. I can't talk
to him now.
Once I'm sure I've cleared his sight, I run. Away from the smell,
sight and sound of Sirius, MY Sirius, the wolf screams, touched and
claimed by someone else, getting someone else's smell all over
himself, and running is all I can do not to stalk back there, rip
Diggory`s heart out, throw Sirius onto the floor and show everybody
to whom Sirius Black really belongs.
Only he doesn't. And it's good that he doesn't. It's enough that one
of us is the prisoner of the wolf.
*-*
The common room is quiet tonight. Most people are studying or have
gone out. It's Saturday after all.
After I came back from Hogsmeade I spent most of the day cooped up in
the library, hoping Sirius would be gone when I came back, but he
didn't go out tonight, he's sitting at our usual table, doing his
Potions homework, or at least copying it from James. I can't for the
life of me think of a good reason not to sit down there with him and
James, but I sure would like one.
I walk over to the two of them, and James greets me casually.
Sirius looks up and gives me a nod, then goes back to his Potions
essay.
He tries to look normal, but the tension in his shoulders and the way
he grips his quill betray him.
He's so uncomfortable around me these days, he can hardly bear being
in the same room with me. It's entirely my fault. I ruined this. I
should try to get myself under control.
He looks up and for a second our eyes meet. Only when he lowers his
eyes again do I remember how to breathe.
Suddenly, he gets up and murmurs something about having to go to the
library. He gives us both a short nod then practically storms out.
But halfway to the door, he turns and comes back to the table,
directly towards me.
I swallow.
Not meeting my eye, he leans over the table, so close to me, so warm
and so Sirius...
He grabs his wand, which he left there on the table in his haste to
get away from me, and straightens, brushing my skin in the process,
and I can't help but flinch back. He still smells like Sean Diggory.
I desperately fix my thoughts on my Arithmancy project. It's all I
can do not to push him against the floor and claim him, once and for
all. Mine.
Before I can feel ashamed for the thought he's gone, he's almost fled
the room, and I shrink back into my chair, trying desperately not to
shake.
"What the hell's going on here?"
It breaks out of James like a storm.
I don't meet his eyes. "What do you mean?"
James rolls his eyes. "Oh, not you too, Moony."
He starts to gesticulate. "You. Sirius. The silence. The strained
conversations. The flinching. What the hell happened?"
I still don't meet his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about,
James. I've been a bit tired lately, and I've never been the most
chatty of people, but I assure you, everything's fine."
"Yeah, right." He scoffs. "Sure, everything's fine. Only
you and
Sirius don't talk to each other anymore, you're hardly ever in the
same room outside of classes and the bedroom, you've started to sleep
with your bedcurtains closed and the window open, and Sirius hasn't
even mentioned a new prank idea in a week. So are you going to admit
that something happened the last full moon, or must I pry it out of
you?"
For the first time, I look up into his eyes and I know the wolf is
there with me in that moment. "James. Leave it. Just leave it
alone."
James swallows. He knows that look. He raises his hands in a
disclaiming gesture and backs off, literally and verbally. "Fine.
Have it your way. I just want to help."
Sighing, I rub a hand over my face. Great, Lupin. Alienate another
one of your friends, since you've got so many of them left. "I'm
sorry, James. I know you just want to help, but believe me, you
can't. It's better to leave it alone for a while. I'm sure time will
cure it."
He just nods, but it's clear he doesn't believe me.
I shake my head. Time will cure it. Sure. You're such a lousy liar,
Lupin.
*-*
two weeks later...
To say the last two weeks were difficult would be like saying the sun
was hot, or You-Know-Who should work on his social skills. An
understatement of epic proportions.
Every day, I tried to avoid Sirius as far as possible.
Every night he came back to the dorm smelling of sex.
It wasn't a problem when the moon was still waning, but now that full
moon is a week away, the wolf is getting stronger. Now, it's more and
more difficult to remind myself just why I'm not supposed to tackle
Sirius, clean him of the other person's scent with my tongue and then
proceed to stake my ownership over every single body part I can
reach - preferably with my teeth. It's no wonder I've consumed my
monthly supply of Chocolate Frogs already and went to Honeyduke's to
get more. Twice.
But the impulses I can handle. I've spent most of my life controlling
the wolf, I can deal with it now.
The worst part is that I miss him. I miss our talks and our silences,
our good-natured banter and serious late-night talks. I miss Sirius
asking me if I'd like some of his crumpet, or if he can copy my
Potions essay, I miss being the first person he asks of advice on a
new crazy scheme, in short, I miss being his best friend.
He doesn't even call me Moony anymore, at least not like he used to,
with that softening of his voice.
I wish I had it in me to be angry at him, and every time he comes
home smelling like another lover, I manage, for a while. I want to
scream, `How can't you see what you're doing to me? Can't you see
that it hurts?' But then I remember that it's not his fault. He
doesn't know, he can't know.
I can't be angry with him. I can only be angry with myself.
*-*
That stupid fifth year Gryffindor I've been with tonight has proposed
to me to go to the Yule ball together. Can you imagine? Merlin, it
was only a shag, and not a very good one at that. He babbled on and
on about how long he has has fancied me for me and how much he had
wished for something like this to happen, and how much better it is
than what he imagined... Stupid little wanker. Much more than I
despise his meaningless chatter, I despise myself for having taken
him. Or all the others over the last two weeks. How wrong I was to
think that I could get over Remus by indulging in incomprehensible
sexual encounters! It might work out for an hour or so, sometimes
even for half a day, depending on how much I wore myself out. Freedom
for a short time, but at what a cost. I never thought I might end up
as an easy fuck, but there I am, hunting after every arse that looks
the least bit promising.
The moment I come down from my climax is the moment where my feelings
of guilt kick in. I take them from behind, so I don't need to see
their faces, so I might be able to imagine in the back of my brain
that it's Remus moving under me, and not somebody else. I despise
them for allowing me to use them like this, despise them for giving
themselves so willingly, but it's really nothing compared to how much
I loathe myself when I pull out after I'm spent and reach for my
clothes faster than you can mutter a spell.
But the worst are the looks Remus is giving me. Like right now. He is
sitting with his legs folded under his body on his bed, a parcel of
chocolate frogs next to him, staring at me accusingly, while he
absently digs around in the parcel for another piece of the sweet
treat.
James has lowered the book he was reading and stares at me over its
hem, his eyebrows drawn tight together.
"Back so soon?" he asks, and I can hear the accusation in his
tone as
well. Great, I managed to piss off all my friends with my inane
behaviour.
I refuse to give him an answer, especially when Remus is looking like
he is going to kill me any moment. I almost want him to kill me, at
least it would save me from making any more mistakes.
When he opens his mouth to speak, I'm almost relieved. Tell me,
Remus. Tell me what a worthless, disgusting pile of shite I really am.
*-*
Tonight, as every night, I can't be angry with him. I drop my gaze,
unable to sustain my anger at his slutty behaviour when I see that
look in his eyes. But that's Sirius for you. A stubborn, prideful
teenager with the eyes of a puppy who's stolen a bit of birthday cake.
Perfect, Black, make this more difficult than it already is.
I swallow the biting comment lying on my tongue and instead, in a
voice I hardly recognise as my own, I say, "You look tired. Maybe you
should get some sleep."
He takes a step towards me, away from his bed and into the space of
mine. He's just out of arm's reach, just out of smelling distance,
for a human. But for me...
I can smell him. I can smell his sweat, his cooling excitement, and
underneath the cocktail of smells and impressions that is pure
Sirius.
I smell smoke and aftershave and I even recognise the smell of the
vapid fifth-year he's bedded tonight, and, once again, I can't help
thinking about what he might be looking for in all these meaningless
shags he's had during the last weeks. Does he try to get my scent out
of his nose?
"Remus? Are you all right? You don't look so good."
Oh, no, he's not going to touch me, is he? With the scent of his
latest shag all over him?
I'm good at controlling the wolf, but not that good.
He reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder, and though I've
longed for the touch, longed for the sound of his voice talking to me
as if he gave a shit about me, now that he did both, it's too much
and I flinch back.
"Don't touch me." I manage to growl.
Blood rushes in my ears and slowly begins to cloud my vision. I'm not
sure how long the wolf can stand his mate so close, smelling like
someone else, claimed by someone else, without doing something I have
to avoid at all costs if I don't want to lose Sirius more completely
than I already have.
I grip the bedclothes to keep myself from shaking, but it's too late.
Sirius has already seen my trembling hands.
I expect him to back off, like any man in his right mind would do if
he was confronted with a barely in control werewolf, but this isn't
anybody, it is Sirius Black, and one thing I always loved about him
was his absolute refusal to be afraid of me.
So naturally, he takes a step closer. The idiot.
And then he says, "Moony?" in that whisper of a voice, and lays
his
hand on my forehead in a tender, caring gesture, and something breaks
in both Remus and Moony and we pounce.
To
Part 3
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