Title: Enter, Stage Black
Author: westernredcedar
For: remeciel
Summary: While Remus is busy with the Hogwart’s production of "A Christmas Carol," Sirius has had far too much free time to do some special…research.
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rated: NC-17
Word count: ~2600
Prompt: Snow
Featuring: Rimming!
Warnings: none
A/N: This is what happens when it finally sinks in to me that there is a professor named Burbage. Let the theatre geekery begin!
Thanks, blpaintchart for the Brit-pick and beta. All remaining mistakes are due to my meddling. :)



Remus had spent most of his years at Hogwarts trying to avoid the spotlight, so the irony of sitting alone on stage under the hot glare of a Fresnel was not lost on him. Happily, no one else was in the theatre while he worked, so his current performance, brandishing a stapler to reattach a loose wreath on the ‘Christmas Past’ set, would go unheralded.

The holiday stage production of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol was the pet project of the new Muggle Studies professor, Professor Burbage.

Professor Burbage had long straight hair parted in the middle, wore tatty jumpers and jeans, smoked fags in class, swore like a sailor, and insisted they all call her ‘Charity.’ “This school is in desperate need of culture, my darlings,” she’d ranted in her lilting, musical voice, accompanied by agitated hand gestures. “Muggles run rings around us when it comes to art and literature and music. If all we teach in this grand institution is practical magic and technique, what is the point? Art and beauty are what make all of this learning worthwhile. And bloody hell, you all need to live!”

Remus loved her.

Every student in Muggle Studies was required to be a part of the theatrical production in some way, so Remus’s hand had shot into the air at the mention of set design; the idea of standing in front of the entire school and acting rated up there with gouging out his own eyeballs or accidentally eating his dormmates on the list of things he hoped to avoid during his lifetime.

Now, however, two days before opening, he was questioning his own judgment on the matter. He’d been in Hogwart’s grand, threadbare theatre for going on ten hours, and he was far from finished. The cast would be assembling for a run-through in two hours, the trapdoor was still refusing to open on cue, Scrooge’s bed curtains were only half-sewn, and he couldn’t even think about the overdue Potions essay that was currently sitting, still unwritten, in his knapsack.

However, he had one trick up his sleeve that he was sure would make up for all of his poor marks and haphazard carpentry. Standing up in the pool of light center-stage, Remus gave a gentle flick of his wand and snow, real, fluffy, honest-to-Merlin snow began to fall onto the stage and seats. He had spent days perfecting the charm that allowed snow to accumulate in the warm and cozy theatre. The snow fell in perfect wintery silence, gathering on every flat surface, creating a soothing blanket of white. Basking in the peace for a moment, Remus reached out a warm hand to catch a few flakes in his palm.

The theatre looked…well…magical. Remus smiled to himself. Sometimes, he simply adored being a wizard.

The lights on stage shifted suddenly from the single spotlight to the deep blue wash meant for the Ghost of Christmas Past’s entrance. Remus squinted up to the light booth.

“Snape? Is that you up there?” Remus shielded his eyes in the glare of the lights as the snow continued to fall.

A good-humoured voice shouted in return. “Snivellus? Damn, Moony, that had better be the first and last time you get me confused with that greasy git.” Remus could hear a bit of crashing from the booth. “Fuck, do you know how many empty cans of Tizer there are up here? The wanker must actually live off it.”

“He adores that stuff,” Remus laughed, but then added, in all seriousness, “and you’d better stop mucking about with his lights, Sirius, or Snape will, in fact kill you. He’s worked really hard.”

“Ooo, I’m shaking in my boots,” Sirius’s voice mocked. “What do you imagine, that Snivelly will drown me in a vat of Tizer?” Sirius’s lean silhouette was now visible tromping down the spiral staircase from the light booth.

Remus stood up tall and crossed his arms, one brow raised in challenge. “Perhaps. That would be fittingly theatrical,” he said.

Sirius leaped up on stage in a flurry of snow and strode into the light, and Remus lowered his face to hide a grin. Sirius was cast in the play as Fred, Scrooge’s cheerful nephew, and he had taken to the stage like a house elf to socks. In his enthusiasm for the limelight, he’d even attempted to grow a set of mutton chops, much to Remus’s amusement, and taken to wearing his Dickensian top hat around the school, much to Remus’s horror.

Sirius stalked towards him now, tossing aside his bookbag and ridiculous hat. The facial hair remained, unfortunately, attached. “You’ve been spending entirely too much time locked in here with old Snivelly and the rest of that poxy backstage lot.”

“I’m a part of the poxy backstage lot, Sirius,” Remus muttered.

“Don’t remind me.” Sirius trailed his fingers along Remus chest as he brushed past him and hopped up to sit on the second level of the set. “Luckily for you, I’ve spent my spare time far more happily engaged.”

“Have you even noticed the snow?” Remus asked, arms still crossed.

“Snow? Is it snowing in here? You don’t say!” Sirius said, and somehow, even with the mutton chops, Sirius managed to look like a boyish imp. “I assume some bookish over-achiever spent far too much of his precious time coming up with the spells for this damn indoor snow, rather than spending his time properly banging about with his fun-loving and massively bored friend.”

“Sirius, if you are here because you are bored, go and pester James. I’m really busy.” Remus picked up his stapler again, and grabbed another wreath. The snow had stared to pile up, and Remus enjoyed the feeling of the slick crunch under his feet. A simple spell would vanish it all in short order, so he let the snow continue to fall.

“Aren’t you curious about what I’ve been up to?” Sirius asked, swinging his long legs towards Remus.

Remus sighed. “Why don’t you just tell me, and then please, let me work.”

Sirius hopped down from the stage platform. “I can’t tell you. I have to show you.”

“Fine.” Remus stretched onto his toes and jammed the stapler against the boards of the set to tack the last wreath into place. “What?”

As Remus tried to turn around, he found Sirius had come up behind him and pressed his long body against his back, trapping him against the boards of the set, his warm lips brushing the soft skin on the back of Remus’s neck.

“Sirius, don’t. Someone will see.” Remus ducked his head to avoid Sirius’s attack. The damned mutton chops tickled, but he wasn’t about to give Sirius the pleasure of making him laugh. Yet.

“There is no one here to see us. Don’t look now, but your paranoia is showing, Moony.” Sirius’s hands wandered down the side of Remus’s chest and under the loose edge of his shirttails, his warm touch sending shivers over Remus’s skin. “Come on, it’s been forever, and I’ve been…researching.” Sirius rested his chin on Remus’s shoulder, and Remus turned his head until they were nose to nose. Sirius’s brows were cocked in challenge, and his eyes were bright with mischief.

Don’t ask him! Remus mind whirled with all of the work he had to do before the theatre was swarming with his classmates in less than two hours. Shove him away, and don’t bloody ask him!

“Researching what?” Fuck.

Sirius’s eyes got, if possible, brighter.

“Stand still,” he said, latching his hands into the belt loops of Remus’s jeans, “and spread your legs.”

“Sirius…”

“Is this snow cold?” Sirius asked, looking around at the continuing flurries.

“Why? What are you going to do?” Sirius grappled around Remus’s hips to pop open the buttons on his jeans.

“Is it?” Sirius eased Remus’s jeans down a couple of inches.

Remus drew in a sharp breath. “Cold? No. A bit wet.”

"Perfect." Sirius pulled Remus's chin around and kissed him, a sloppy wet kiss, and then dropped to his knees in the snow, yanking Remus's jeans and pants down to his thighs as he descended.

Being exposed, on stage, was almost too much for Remus, and his legs shook. He peered over his shoulder trying to see the man kneeling behind him. "What are you...?" Remus started, but then Sirius was gripping his hips and kissing the bare skin at the juncture of his arse and thigh, and staplers, wreaths, trapdoors, and getting caught suddenly stopped seeming so very important.

The gentle pressure of Sirius's hands encouraged Remus to spread his legs apart and lean into the post that was holding him upright. He realized that he was still holding the stapler, white-knuckled. Sirius was kneading his arse and sucking an arc of little kisses up each cheek.

"Is this your amazing research, Padfoot?" Remus muttered into his own shoulder, as blood flooded into his dick. "Finally studying up on how to properly kiss my arse?"

"Ha bloody ha," Sirius said, and then, before he resumed his effort, added a pointed, "And no, this is not it." Remus twisted enough to see Sirius grab a handful of snow off the stage. "I need to clean you up."

Remus gasped and leaned hard into the post as Sirius firmly separated his cheeks and ran a handful of soft, charmed snow down his crack, over his sensitive hole, all the way to his balls.

"Bloody...wha...Sirius..." Remus spluttered at the sensation. In their recent experimenting, he and Sirius had tentatively tried touching each other there, but their first effort had dissolved into hysterical laughter before it could become very erotic.

Now, however, Sirius did not hesitate for a moment as he ran a finger up and down through the strange, cool snow until Remus felt washed clean, and then he brushed it all off and only his finger remained, pressing in a firm stroke along the length of his crack. Remus's body was frozen as his skin accustomed itself to being touched in this new way.

"I've heard that this is supposed to be the bee's fucking knees, Moon," Sirius murmured as brief introduction, and then, with firm hands pulling him open, something warm and wet stared to trail down the crack of Remus's arse. He stilled in concentration, trying to understand what he was feeling, until he realized he could feel a tickle of facial hair, and that the secondary spot if pressure he could feel had to be Sirius's nose and that therefore the warm and wet was...oh gods...Sirius's tongue. "Sirius..." Remus's dick swelled at the thought, trapped under his shirttails and pressed into the set.

Moments after he'd figured out what was going on, Sirius's tongue took its first gentle lap at his arse, and heat exploded through Remus's body. He dropped the stapler with a bang, and Sirius pulled his head away in surprise.

"Shit, Moony, give a bloke a heart attack, why don't you?" Sirius said as he nuzzled back into Remus's crack, and Remus's knees promised to give out. "Why the fuck are you using a stapler instead of a sticking charm, anyway?" His words vibrated up Remus's spine.

Sirius's tongue plunged back in against his hole and started to do something, something, that almost made Remus white out. "Fuck, Sirius, because...its...for Muggle...Studies...Oh gods..." His dick was pulsing and hot, but he couldn't let go of the post to touch himself or he would fall over into the snow.

"So, it's good, is it?" Sirius asked, his voice muffled, and Remus groaned in answer as he was hit again with a renewed intensity of sensation that felt so good, and so very very dirty. Sirius had his mouth there. Was he...sucking? Or kissing? Or...fuck? Gods, what if someone walked in! Snape said he would only be away long enough to eat supper.

"Sirius, someone is going to come..."

"Yeah. You," Sirius replied. The warmth circling his arse spiraled in and Remus jumped and shouted as Sirius jabbed his tongue inside just a little, just enough to convince Remus that what ever he was feeling, he wanted to feel it again and again, preferably for the rest of his life, starting now.

Sirius wrenched Remus's hips around, forcing him to let go of the post and trust his legs to hold him up. He leaned back and held on as Sirius grappled his aching dick from out of his shirttails and sucked him hard and deep and fast. The familiar warmth of Sirius's mouth and hand on his dick after the unsettling thrill on having had his mouth...oh gods...there...all Remus had to do was think about it again and he was coming in hot pulses all over Sirius's chin and cheek, and into the piles of strange snow that had settled around them.

Panting and hazy with release, Remus leaned all of his weight against the set, thankful that he could trust it to hold him up. He'd pounded almost every nail himself.

Sirius took another handful of snow and wiped his face off with it, then rose to his feet, yanking up Remus's jeans as he did so. Face to face, he leaned in with a smirk and dragged his trespassing tongue along Remus's jaw, ending at his lips with a smacking kiss.

"That was fun!" he announced, and Remus, still trying to catch his breath, could only nod. "So what are you working on?" Sirius asked, walking a few steps away and spinning around center stage. "I can help."

"Bollocks, you can," Remus panted, tucking himself in properly and buttoning his jeans. "You're the worst distraction since...I don't know what. Ever."

Sirius sauntered back over and rocked his hips against Remus, who could feel the bulge of his unsatisfied erection against his thigh. "I simply want to keep my backstage crew happy, you tosser. Don't say that little experiment didn't make your hours perfecting your 'unsung hero of the production' bullshit a little more enjoyable."

Remus raked his hands through Sirius's hair, and smiled. "You are not helping, Fred. This acting shite is really terrible for your ego you know."

"Terrible meaning good?" Sirius asked with a wink, and leaned in for a snog.

Just then, the far door opened with a bang, followed by voices. Remus started up and gave Sirius a quick shove away.

Sirius contrived to gracefully recover, don his hat, and give a deep bow to Burbage and Snape as they wandered in, before he slogged through the snow and out the door.

Remus stared after him as the snow continued to fall. Fucking Sirius.