Warning: Remus’s POV at the beginning, then back to Sirius.

 

 

Right Kind of Wrong

 

Chapter 8

 

After a moment, Potter started shuffling through all the fallen contents of the box. All of the ticket stubs and receipts were from the summer. The photos – all Muggle – were mostly of Sirius asleep, though there were a few featuring both Remus and Sirius at the park, or a museum, or outside the cinema, obviously taken by someone else at Sirius’s insistence, as the images of Remus clearly showed that he was less than pleased at being photographed. But the pictures of Sirius…

 

Remus wanted to tell the younger boy to stop touching everything, that those pictures were private, captured moments of innocence, brief flashes of Sirius calm and at peace, as he never was awake, but the words wouldn’t form.

 

“What the fuck are these?” Potter demanded again, disgust now evident in his voice. The photo he was looking at was of Sirius asleep on his stomach, hair partly covering his face, a sheet draped low over his hips, one bare leg partly uncovered. He was clearly nude under the sheet, and, at the base of his neck, was the fading bruise of a love bite.

 

Memories, Remus thought, but could not seem to say. His throat wasn’t working properly. His hands clenched compulsively. The sharp edges of the shattered mug cut into Remus’s palms, but he barely noticed the pain. He looked down at the shards in his hands, only partly aware that they were now spattered with drops of his own blood. It was as if time had stopped, but everything was still falling apart, crumbling to dust.

 

“What is wrong with you?” Potter’s harsh voice broke the bubble Remus seemed to have sunk into.

 

He looked up, and realized the hazel eyes were no longer fixed on the contents of the box, but on Remus himself.

 

Remus opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He closed it again, feeling young and lost, and looked back down at the bits of red and gold ceramic in his bleeding hands.

 

“It’s just a mug,” Potter’s voice snapped, but there seemed to be an undercurrent of something besides disgust and antagonism in his tone.

 

Remus felt his face flush with something akin to anger as he looked at the Head Boy once more, and he felt his voice return. “It is not ‘just a mug,’” he snarled, holding the pieces even closer to his chest.

 

Potter drew back, startled, then his dark brows twisted downwards in a frown. “So fix it.”

 

Remus blinked, not quite comprehending what the dark-haired boy meant.

 

The frown behind the spectacles deepened, and, in the blink of an eye, Potter had drawn his wand, leaned forward, reached out, and tapped the remnants of the mug. “Reparo,” he bit out, and the pieces flew back together as if they’d never been apart.

 

Remus stared at the repaired mug, then he looked up again. “I –” he tried, but then his throat closed off. His gaze returned to the restored mug. His fingers gently caressed it, as though searching on their own for cracks.

 

The door slammed and Remus’s head jerked up. He was alone.

 

Carefully, he placed the mug back in the box, and began picking up the other scattered contents, lingering over a playbill, a menu, a photograph, fighting new tears.

 

– – – – –

 

Sirius sat on the corridor floor, head resting on arms folded on drawn up knees. He felt as if he’d been waiting for hours, but there was still daylight filtering in through the window at the end of the hall and he hadn’t been able to get away from his brother until late afternoon.

 

His head jerked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. A familiar brunet figure emerged from the stairwell and Sirius was on his feet before he’d even realized he was in motion.

 

“Sirius?” Remus looked startled. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Waiting for you. Where’ve you been?”

 

Remus frowned, and, for a moment, Sirius feared he would tell him it was none of his business – as he so often had those first few weeks when Sirius had asked anything personal – but then his mouth twitched, and he shrugged. “The library.”

 

“I thought you only worked –”

 

“They needed me to track an old book down,” Remus explained before Sirius could even finish his sentence. “It took a bit longer than I’d expected, and then I got sidetracked.” He gave Sirius a lopsided grin that made Sirius’s insides melt. “You know how I am with books.”

 

“Yeah,” Sirius breathed.

 

Remus stared at him for a long moment then shook himself and started rooting around in his pockets. “I thought we were meeting at the restaurant for dinner,” he remarked, pulling out his keys and inserting the correct one into the lock. He jiggled the key until the lock clicked and pushed the door open.

 

“I didn’t want to wait,” Sirius replied, following the older man inside. “And you’re usually back from work by the time my parents vanish for the day.”

 

Remus looked at him, startled. “You’ve been sitting in the hall all afternoon?”

 

Sirius shook his head. “No, Regulus was going on about… stuff, and wouldn’t bugger off.” He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I’ve not even been here an hour.”

 

“I see,” Remus nodded. His eyes were fixed on Sirius’s hands.

 

Sirius grinned, noticing the direction of his companion’s gaze, and ambled closer, sparing a quick glance at the door to make sure he’d locked it on entering. “You’re wearing a tie,” he remarked, no longer amazed at how his voice had lowered to a husky purr. He reached out a finger and dragged it down the silky cloth, delighting in the feel of Remus shivering under his touch, close enough now that he could feel the other man’s heated breath on his skin.

 

“Work,” Remus replied, the one word soft and slightly scratchy.

 

“Mm,” Sirius nodded, shifting closer, hand closing around the knot in the tie and using it to pull the brunet against him. “Looks good,” he murmured against soft lips, then nipped lightly at the bottom one.

 

Remus’s chin tilted up slightly, lips parted, eyes dark. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Sirius’s tongue darted out to swipe teasingly at the parted lips.

 

Then Remus’s hands were tangling in his hair, yanking him closer, mouth hot and sweet against Sirius’s as they stumbled blindly towards the bedroom.

 

The backs of Sirius’s knees hit the side of the bed and he went over backwards, landing with a soft thwump on the mattress, Remus on top of him. They broke apart with a gasp. Remus knelt up, straddling Sirius’s legs, and scrabbled hastily with his shirt buttons. Sirius used the moment to tug his own shirt off over his head. Remus slid out of his shirt and dropped it over the side of the bed, hands moving to unknot his tie.

 

Sirius’s hands joined Remus’s at the tie, stilling them. “Wait,” he murmured even as the knot slipped loose.

 

Remus looked up, amber eyes meeting grey.

 

For a long moment, neither moved.

 

Then Remus cocked his head slightly. “You want –”

 

“Yeah,” Sirius cut him off. His heart was pounding double-time, but… “Yeah,” he repeated, and slid backwards towards the head of the bed.

 

Remus watched him, a strange look in his eyes. “Are you sure you –”

 

“I trust you,” Sirius cut him off again, voice low.

 

Remus said nothing, but held Sirius’s eyes as he crawled forward until he was straddling Sirius’s legs once more.

 

Sirius lifted his arms above his head, grey eyes still locked with amber.

 

Slowly Remus slid the unknotted tie from his neck, letting the ends trail across Sirius’s chest as he moved towards his wrists.

 

Sirius shivered at the tickle of silk on his skin, then shivered again as Remus bound his wrists together then knotted the end of the tie to the headboard.

 

Remus pulled back for a moment and just looked at Sirius. “Beautiful,” he murmured softly. “You’re beautiful.”

 

Sirius felt his cheeks heat up, but before he could say anything, Remus was kissing him again, and he forgot how to speak.

 

Hot lips traced a path down Sirius’s throat and he moaned, arching into the touch. Scorching kisses trailed across Sirius’s chest, pausing briefly to taunt one nipple, then the other before dipping lower.

 

Delicate fingers made quick work of Sirius’s belt, and by now Sirius was positively writhing under the brunet’s touch, already-incoherent mumblings falling from his lips.

 

The tip of Remus’s tongue darted quickly into Sirius’s navel before –

 

BANG!

 

Sirius jerked upright with a start, nearly cracking his head on the bedpost. “Whafck?” he demanded, glaring blearily about the room.

 

Peter, standing barely a foot from the offending door, cringed. “Sorry,” he apologized, face bright red. “Didn’t realize you were asleep.”

 

Sirius scowled, and shifted uncomfortably on his bed.

 

“I saw James go out a bit ago,” Peter went on, babbling slighting with nerves. “He was alone, so I figured he’d just gone to the kitchens…” he trailed off, anxiously transferring his weight from one foot to the other and back again.

 

Sirius rubbed his face, trying to keep from snapping at the awkward boy. It wasn’t like it was his fault he’d interrupted… and then Sirius’s conversation with James came rushing back. His head snapped up. “James went out?” he demanded.

 

“Er, yes,” Peter cringed some more under Sirius’s scrutiny. “He left a bit ago…”

 

They both heard the footsteps on the stairs mere moments before the door opened.

 

Peter jumped aside just in time to avoid being hit as James entered, clearly trying not to make any noise.

 

Peter and Sirius both stared at the Head Boy.

 

“Oh,” James grinned wryly, and let the door swing shut with a bang only slightly less canon-like than Peter’s. “You’re awake.”

 

Sirius frowned at him. “Yes. Thanks to Peter and the Thunder Door.”

 

James raised an eyebrow at Peter – who gave him a painful looking smile – before turning back to Sirius. “It is a rather loud door,” he conceded.

 

“Thank you, Professor,” Sirius snapped.

 

Both eyebrows went up this time. “Professor?” he inquired.

 

Sirius stared at him in shock for a long moment, then narrowed his eyes. “Where did you go?” he asked, suspiciously.

 

“Head Boy things,” James replied vaguely and moved towards his trunk, pulling out his pajamas. “Pete, do you want the bathroom first?” he asked, turning back to the smaller boy.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Peter mumbled, and hastily gathered his things from his own trunk before disappearing into the bathroom, shooting a last quick ‘I’m sorry’ glance at Sirius before the door closed.

 

“James.” Sirius felt tense and wary as he bit out the words. “Where did you go?”

 

James avoided looking at Sirius as he changed out of his robes, getting ready for bed.

 

“James.”

 

Finally James turned. “You know where I went.”

 

Fuck. “James, you didn’t.”

 

“Of course I did!” James snapped. “You’re like a brother to me, Sirius, and I… I didn’t know what else to do!”

 

“What did you do?”

 

“Nothing! Well, I didn’t hit him or hex him, or anything. He’s a teacher. I’m not stupid. But, damn, I wanted to.”

 

“James.”

 

“I just… talked to him. At him, I suppose.” James looked down, twisting his hands together awkwardly. “I just wanted him to know that I knew, and that you have friends. And I…” he trailed off. “Did you know he has pictures of you?”

 

Sirius started. “What?” He shook himself. “Yes. I bought a camera at the beginning of the summer, and we traded it back and forth. I have pictures of him as well. Did he show you the pictures?”

 

James shook his head, flushing slightly. “It was an accident that I saw them. But, I meant… pictures. Not just pictures of you posing for him, or of the two of you together. Pictures of you. Asleep. You know. Without clothes.”

 

TBC

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