Title: ...Until your fingers bleed
Author: tjs_whatnot
Characters/Pairings: Snape/Lupin, Albus/Teddy unrequited, Teddy/Victoire
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Bad Sex cliches
Other Warnings: voyeurism, masturbation, anal sex and slightly disparaging comments about Hufflepuff, sorry ‘Puffs!
Word Count: 10k
Summary/Description: Albus Severus hadn’t gone looking for what he found. He was just sent to get the entertainment for Teddy’s stag party.
Author's Notes: Title taken from Melissa Etheridge’s “Silent Legacy.” Thank you so much to atdelphi and redsnake05 for your amazing level of awesome. All remaining mistakes are my own.




Albus Severus Potter looked over his shoulder as he made his way down the dank alleyway. He had heard stories about this section of Diagon Alley, of course he had, but by the time he was old enough to grow curious, it had been Scourgified and Sanitized and Set To Right, according to Ministry Standards. Still, there was an unsavoriness that had nothing to do with Dark Magic and more to do with seedy elements that clung to the very cobblestones. That was why, he imagined, the shops that once sold dark materials for nefarious goals now sold things the purchaser usually kept hidden... like in a locked drawer... beside their bed.

Al was a good man. He had no locked drawers, no nefarious plans. He was there under duress; sent to procure something that only days before, he hadn’t even know existed. They were called “Potent Pensieve Porn.” Subtle, Al thought with a groan.

But it was for Teddy, and there were very few things Al wouldn’t do for Teddy Lupin. Even if it did include wandering into a part of town his father would disprove of and would cause his mother to shriek and wail about how they had failed as parents. Even if it was to pick up something to bring to Teddy’s Pre-stag weekend party. He blamed James. Who put his brother in charge of anything, let alone throwing a party? It was supposed to be maybe one night of debauchery, a weekend at the most. Somehow it had become a week-long collection of obligations and reminders.

The thought of Ted getting married filled Al with a confusing mix of emotions; none of them he liked to spend too much time on if given an option. But Ted was happy. So, Al guessed one of those raging emotions was happiness. If he dug far enough down.

Still, as he walked into Deepest Desires Delectables he had two thoughts on his mind. The first was to wonder what it was in the wizarding collective mindset that was so fascinated with alliteration; the second was to wonder what it was about Victoire that Teddy had fallen in love with. It wasn’t that hard of a stretch really, Al admitted. She was beautiful. There was no denying that. And she wasn’t a horrible person or anything. All in all, she was actually one of his favorite cousins, not counting Hugo and Rose, who were more like a sister and brother then cousins because of how much of their growing up they did with each other.

That, Al reasoned, was why the courtship of Ted and Victoire was so strange to him. Like he, James, Lily, Rose and Hugo, those two had been raised together almost as if they were siblings. Victoire had been the first post-war baby born, and for Ted, who was an orphan in every way imaginable with no parents and no peers, Victoire was his first and most trusted playmate. So, when they had started dating towards the end of their teens, it was almost unanimously praised as the most brilliant thing ever. Al’s father might have even gushed that now finally Ted would be legitimately part of the family that he’d always belonged to. No one pointed out, certainly not Al, who couldn’t have been the only one who thought it, just how fuckin’ creepy it was. No one said it.

“‘Ello, young man. Please, yes, come in,” the shopkeeper said as Al walked in. He wasn’t nearly as skeevy as Al had imagined. Almost respectable. Almost like he could be friends with his Grandfather. Al shook his head to clear that thought.

The man stepped around the counter and came to the door to take Albus by the arm and pull him into the shop.

“First time?” he asked.

Albus nodded.

“What brings you in, then?” the man asked, then turned to look at Albus closer. “You’re sure you’ve never been in before?”

“Never,” Albus answered, subconsciously running his fingers through his dark hair so the long fringe fell into his emerald eyes. There weren’t many pictures of him or his siblings, for which they constantly thanked their father’s almost obsessive protection and the constant threat he instilled on all press. Still. There was no getting away from the fact that he looked very much like his father.

“No? Hm, must be thinking of someone else.”

“Must be.”

“Well, let me just show you around so that you can find what you are looking for. Any questions, I’ll be right up at the counter.”

“I’m actually looking for something for a stag party... um... Potent Pensieve--”

“Porn? Ah, right this way.”

He led Albus past displays of lingerie and colorful plastics that Albus tried really hard not to see too clearly. Past a red velvet curtain, the lights were dimmer and the plastics were much less colorful, mostly black. Past those was another curtain, this one paisley and flimsy, and it was there that the man brought Albus. There were shelves and shelves of bottles, all filled with murky liquid and each with a label. Albus couldn’t see what the labels said and was too overwhelmed by the volume of inventory to move closer.

“We have anything you could want: vanilla, spicy, first-times, amateur, multi-ethnical, threesomes, moresomes, girl on girl...” He stopped and leaned in on a whisper. “And back there, behind that curtain, gay porn.” Those last two words not even a whisper, just a movement of air in Albus’ ear.

The hair on Albus’ neck stood up, but he chalked that up to the man whispering right there too close.

“But, that is not why you are here.”

“No?” Albus said, his face flushed. He hadn’t meant to say it as a question.

“Well, if you are, it’s the weirdest stag party I’ve ever heard of.”

Albus laughed nervously.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Do let me know if you have any questions. There is a Pensieve if you’d like to preview the selection. First five minutes are free, after that you’ll be charged five Knuts a minute.”

“Fine. Thank you,” Albus said.

After the man left, Al walked around, overwhelmed by the selection. Thankfully it was all categorized and he could disregard a lot of the options. Based on conversations overheard in locker rooms and bars, he settled on a few girl on girl and spicy memories. He contemplated watching a few of the memories to check for quality, but decided against it, feeling queasy just at the thought. Instead he decided just to get a large variety, and that way, there was bound to be one or two that weren’t completely unwatchable.

He was just about to leave, having accomplished all he wanted, when he got a tingle of a bad idea and his heart raced at the thought of it: just a peek.

He looked over his shoulder, repeatedly, before taking a deep breath, holding it, and slithering behind the curtain.

This room was even darker than the other, though Albus couldn’t see how that was possible. He was about to cast a Lumos when his eyes adjusted to the red glow cast by the few wall sconces lit low. There seemed to be just as many bottles in this room, but Albus figured it only appeared that way, as the room was about a quarter of the size as the other. There were bottles of all colors, shapes and sizes and, listening closely for footsteps, he moved closer to read the labels:

”Anal Delivery II starring Sturgis Shuker and Randy Longsword”
“Rimming Plumber IV starring Sturgis Shuker and Randy Longsword”
“Office Politics starring Sturgis Shuker and Randy Longsword”

It went on and on like that, most of them with the same two starring actors and always together. There were descriptions of each memory, but Albus’ heart was racing too fast with fear of being caught back there. Yet still. There was a prickle of excitement and a pulsing in his heart as his stomach tied itself in knots. Without even thinking anything about it besides an unexplained want, he found himself sliding one of the bottles off the shelf and into his inside jacket pocket.

“Ahhh, I see you’ve found quite a number of quality memories,” the shopkeeper said as Albus returned to the front with his hands full of bottles.

“Yes. I chose a bit of a variety.”

“Good, good. “How it works is, you pay a deposit, and then when you return them unharmed, you get the deposit minus a rental fee back. You can place them in the bin in front if you’re in a hurry and the money will be placed in your account for safe keeping.”

“Sounds acceptable,” Albus said.

“Will you be needing to rent a Pensieve?”

Albus considered it for a moment before answering, “That would be great, thank you.” The thought of asking his father to borrow his was terrifying. The thought of any residual memories from these bottles clinging to it after viewing was even more so.

The man pulled out a parchment. “I just need your signature here.”

Albus swallowed hard. “My signature?”

“We’re very discreet. But, I’m afraid we can’t let our property out of the premise without knowing who it’s going to. You understand.”

“Of course,” Albus said and reached for the pen, signing the usual family alias: Ignotus Peverell.

***

“Huzzah! You got it!” James exclaimed when Albus staggered into the flat they shared, the heavy stone basin grasped awkwardly in his arms.

“Yeah... don’t... worry... I don’t... need... any...HELP...”

James came to the other side of the basin and eased Albus’ burden slightly. “Why didn’t you just shrink it, dunderhead?”

“I’m not jumping into a recently altered magical object. The thing is probably filthy enough without adding to its tainted properties.”

“Here, delicate flower, put it down,” James said after they had lugged it to the middle of the room. They placed it on the ground. “So, what sort did you get?”

Albus shrugged off his messenger bag, opened it, and pulled out the bottles.

“Merlin, how many did you get?”

“I don’t know. A few. I wasn’t sure what everyone would want.”

“I’m sure everyone wants the same things, don’t they? Big tits and tight ass?”

Albus shrugged. “I guess.”

James came and ruffled Albus’ hair before he took the bottles from him.

“Seen it. Seen it...oh yeah, this one is good.”

“Why didn’t you go get these? You seem to be an expert.”

James winked. “I needed to tend to next weekend’s holiday entertainments. Needed a proper and thorough investigation, you know.”

“How are you such a pervert?” Albus asked.

“How is it that we’re even related?” James retorted.

“I ask that question almost daily.”

***

They were in their third porn memory and Albus was bored. It wasn’t that he didn’t like sex. He imagined it was quite enjoyable. It certainly looked like everyone was having a good time. It was just that watching it made him feel a bit squeamish and watching it with a group of other men, and seeing that none of them were having the same reaction, told him something was wrong with him. He was different.

He’d always known he was, always known things affected him differently. He just didn’t need everyone else to pick up on just how little fun he was having. But as he looked around, he was surprised to see he wasn’t the only one. Teddy too looked bored and a bit ill at ease as he sat in a corner and watched. Mostly they were watching James trying to interact with the performers and generally making an arse of himself.

“Not your cuppa either?” Teddy asked when Albus approached. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Albus mimicked his stance.

“Not really. Though it is fun to watch James having a good time.”

“Do you think he’s ever not had a good time? Ever?”

Albus pretended to think about it. “I’m sure there had to be a moment. Maybe the day I was born?”

“Nope. I was there. I remember distinctly him driving the Mediwitches batty.”

They shared a smile.

“You ever been in any of these... um... memories before?” Albus asked.

“Once. Friend’s stag. I thought it was just that one that didn’t do it for me, and I had no inclination to try another. Now, though? I guess it just all seems so contrived and crass. Besides, these memories are so dated. I mean really, look at that wallpaper.”

Albus laughed. “I don’t think wallpaper is what most of the people who get these are looking at.”

“No. I suppose not. But when you’ve got a girl as beautiful as Victoire waiting at home for you, it’s sort of hard to get too engrossed in girls like these. I mean really, these girls are now old enough to be our parents. Try getting hard thinking about that.”

Albus shuddered. “Thanks. That’s an image that will stay with me the rest of the night.”

“Sorry. If it helps, I bet your parents are really hot in the sack.”

Albus nudged Teddy, who lost his balance for a moment before correcting himself. “No, that doesn’t help at all.”

They didn’t mention Teddy’s parents. They never did.

***

The next day, when he finally ushered the last of the party goers out and the memory of the strippers and his brother’s obnoxious behavior had dissipated, he thought of the Pensieve Porn, and that made him think of the one bottle they hadn’t gone to. The one he still had in his inner coat pocket. The one he’d been too afraid to even look at since swiping it.

Quietly, he made sure that he was alone in the flat. James had left with the stripper and Al was sure he wouldn’t be back for a while. Albus was alone with nothing to do until a family dinner later that night.

He pulled out the bottle. It seemed to heat instantly in his sweaty palm. His heart was racing as he walked slowly to the rented Pensieve.

Just a peek, he thought as he took a deep breath and poured Deep Throat starring Sturgis Shuker and Randy Longsword into the basin before he lost his nerve. With that same fleeting determination, he dipped his head into the memory and felt the familiar sensation of being pulled into the memory head first.

When he righted himself, he looked around, confused. It looked exactly like one of the memories they’d been in the night before: a small flat with a ghastly paisley bedspread on a large, uncomfortable bed. There were some cheap furnishings that looked fuzzy as if hardly remembered at all. The whole place had an aged and skeevy feel to it. Just like the ones from the night before. Albus wondered vaguely if they stopped making these memories in the early ‘80s.

He saw a man sitting at a rickety table, hunched over a piece of parchment. He was wearing tan trousers, a white tank top and a black fedora over his sandy blond hair. Walking over, Albus looked over the man’s shoulder.

Randy--

I have the information you were seeking. Meet you at the car park at midnight. Come alone.

Sturgis

Albus watched as the man stood up. He was tall and fit and as he walked past, Albus was surprised to notice that he smelled good: musky and primal with an undertone of wilderness. Albus wondered when he first started noticing men’s scents.

The man walked to a wardrobe and pulled on a button-down shirt and then a long, tan trench coat, which he cinched tightly before flipping up the collar, obscuring most of his face. What the trench coat didn’t hide, the fedora he put low on his brow did. Something about this outfit that was supposed to hide the man but instead made his figure stand out sent a sizzle through Albus that no real person ever had, and yet, there was something familiar about him, something in the stance perhaps, or maybe the scent.

He would have to worry about this later. The man was leaving the dingy flat, and Albus sprinted to catch up with him as he descended the stairs, casting furtive glances constantly. At least once, Albus was convinced that he was looking right at him rather than through him.

There wasn’t much of a walk to the car park, but by the time they got there Albus was breathing heavy and the tingle of adrenaline had intensified as he thought of what he was walking into with this man.

“Funny seeing you here,” a harsh voice in the shadows breathed in a loud whisper.

“You sent for me,” Randy responded.

“You’re late.”

“Maybe you’re early. Ever consider that?” Randy retorted, not bothering to lower his voice.

The other man stepped out of the shadows in the same disguise and drawled. “Not even remotely.”

Now Albus thought he was losing it, because there was something familiar about this man too. Something in the voice, but not. Again he stored it away to contemplate later and instead focused on the here and now.

“Do you have the documents?” Randy asked.

“How do I know I can trust you?” Sturgis returned.

Randy took a step closer and this time he did whisper. “Don’t make me beg.”

“Beg? Perhaps on your knees?” Sturgis whispered back, his tone still resonating and causing Al’s stomach to flip oddly in his stomach. The arch in Sturgis’ brow also did things to Al that he’d never experienced before. It was like a promise of things to come.

Randy took no time; he flung his fedora off his head as he dropped to his knees. Now it was Al’s turn to glance around furtively. He couldn’t believe it when right there in the carpark, Randy unzipped Sturgis’ fly and took out his stiffened cock.

Al had forgotten they were in a memory; a memory manufactured for this purpose. He felt exposed and dangerous as he stood too close to these two men, watching Randy take Sturgis in his mouth in slow slurps before increasing his speed as he worked more and more of Sturgis’ cock with each stroke.

There was a loud hum that Al was shocked to discover was coming from him. It was then that he noticed the ache in his own stiffening cock. He yearned to touch himself, but he was too engrossed in the scene being played out before him. He wanted to know what that release looked like.

Sturgis had thrown his head back in ecstasy and his fedora had fallen off as well. His shaggy ebony hair came loose from its binding as his head rotated on his neck. Albus couldn’t stop staring at Sturgis, the cords of his neck pulsing and his hands digging into Randy’s hair, clutching it in his fists.

Albus noticed that the sound of the hum was getting louder and realized that it wasn’t just coming from him anymore. They were all humming at different volumes and tones, Sturgis low and primal, Randy garbled and louder, needier with each swallow of Sturgis’ cock.

The cacophony of the moans reverberated in Al, and he felt a small jolt as his cock pulsed and released, untouched by him. Slamming his eyes shut, he gasped and almost lost his footing as he came in his pants. When he opened his eyes again, the stars that pinged his retinas almost stopped him from seeing Sturgis’ face as he also came with a strained gasp and whimper.

Many things happened at once, and Al, being on a heightened focus experienced them all. In the moment between the intake and holding of Sturgis’ gasped breath there was a flicker of something changing in Sturgis’ face. His eyes changed color and shape, his face shifted, his nose grew, his lips thinned and the sneer softened slightly as his fingers gave up their grip in Randy’s hair. Randy, after swallowing Sturgus’ come, looked up at the man and there was a flicker there as well. Not that he changed shape, but more that he had forgotten his role in this little memory for a moment.

It was in that moment that Albus was pulled from the memory panting with his mind reeling.

What was that?

***

That thought would stay with him for the rest of the day as he went about gathering the things he needed to return to Deepest Desires Delectables.

He had seen his father come home from work as one person and become himself with a shake of his head enough times to know what a glamour was, and what it looked like to lose one. Sturgis had definitely lost his glamour there when he had lost himself in his orgasm. If he thought about it, of course it would seem reasonable that porn stars would use glamours and any other ways to disguise themselves. But that wasn’t what was on his mind. It was in that moment when Sturgis had become himself, he had looked familiar. There had been something he recognized from some forgotten place and time.

It tickled at his thoughts until he forced it out. Of course, his mind, being a cruel instrument of torture, left that puzzle alone to barrage him with thoughts about how exactly that memory had made him feel. Those were thoughts that weren’t going to go away so easily. It was as if they had been there, hiding dormant under the thin layer of his subconscious forever, waiting for an impetus to force them out into the open.

His emotions were like a string and his mind was the kitten rolling around pulling and chasing it. Very few of the emotions were things he liked to spend time on in a regular day, and today was far from a regular day. At the end of the string though, past the anxiety, fear and nervousness was another of dawning realization and relief.

Yes. Of course. I’m gay.

It didn’t make any of those other emotions easier or less devastatingly terrifying to contemplate, but still, the sigh that escaped his mouth quickly turned into a grin that he couldn’t shake as he turned the corner onto Knockturn Alley.

“Ah, Mr. Peverell, nice to see you again.”

“Of course you would see me again. I do after all have to return your merchandise.”

“Yes, but most people just return it in the bin outside.”

“But I am not most people,” Al said, still with his ridiculous smile.

The man shook his finger at Albus and Al got another image of this man and Grandpa Weasley being fast friends. “I know why you brought them in. You liked what you saw, didn’t you? You want more.”

Even that couldn’t wipe the grin off of Al’s face, even if it did make him blush almost painfully.

“Well, you know where everything is, yes? I’ll leave you to it.”

Al made his way back to the very farthest, darkest part of the shop. The first thing he did was return the bottle he had swiped the day before. Then he grabbed a few random bottles starring the same actors, avoiding the “extreme kinks” section.

“That was fast,” the man said when Albus returned only moments later. “Not too choosy, are ya?”

“No, not yet.”

Albus put the bottles on the counter. The man’s eyes flicked over the titles, then to Albus and then back to the bottles. “Oh.”

Finally Albus’ grin dissipated. “Problem?”

“No, not at all. We don’t judge here at Deepest Desires Delectables.”

“You don’t? I couldn’t help noticing this section is in the fourth circle of shame back there,” Al said. He didn’t know why he was taking it so personally all of a sudden, but he was.

“That’s not our doing. We have to cater to the whims of all our clients. The clients that enjoy that sort of memory are not as numerous as the other type. Besides, they seem to like the discretion and the secrecy of that corner of the shop. Would you prefer it be moved to the front of the store?”

Albus shrugged. Truth was, this was all so new to him, and all he knew for sure was that he didn’t want to think about the ramifications of his choice of being “that sort.” All he really wanted now was to get lost in the memories he had just rented.

***

He contemplated bringing the Pensieve back to his shared flat once again, but the idea of watching these in a place where James could be waiting for him after finishing made him disregard this option. Instead he decided to partake in one of the shop’s “Viewing Rooms” that, like the rest of the place, prided itself on discretion.

Pouring in the memory labeled ”The Delivery Boy,” he took a deep breath and plunged in. The memory started in the same room that the one before had. This time though, it was Sturgis who made the first appearance. His dark hair slicked back, he was wearing a black silk shirt with three buttons undone, revealing a tuft of chest hair and a gold necklace. His leggings were also shiny black and were so tight that Albus could see everything. He swallowed as he watched the man check himself in a rusty mirror hanging on the chipped brick wall of the flat.

After a minute, there was a knock on the door.

“Pizza delivery,” the person on the other side of the door called.

“Coming,” Sturgis called.

Sturgis opened the door. Randy was wearing a red visor, red striped uniform shirt and flaming red pants that looked two sizes too small. The pizza box was held low, as if to frame Randy’s crotch that almost rested on the lid. His glamour made him golden blond, blue eyed and well built.

“Funny seeing you here,” Sturgis growled in that rich, gravelly voice of his.

“Did someone order a steaming hot sausage pie?” Randy asked suggestively, nudging the box by pumping his hips.

Albus groaned.

“Extra sauce?” Sturgis asked.

“You know it,” Randy said, tossing aside the box as Sturgis pushed him against the wall.

Albus only wasted a few moments laughing at how ridiculous the premise was before he forgot all about it. Sturgis ripped off the hideous pizza delivery costume from Randy and walked around him, taking him all in. Albus did the same. Tall and rippled, he stood there naked with no shame. He ran his hand down his chest and abdomen before clutching himself, never taking his eyes off Sturgis.

“You’d better tip this time,” Randy said.

Sturgis licked his lips. “Oh yes, I’ll have a tip for you.”

He wrapped his fingers around the back of Randy’s neck and pulled him forward so that their lips crushed against each other. Sturgis forced Randy’s mouth open with his tongue and kissed him deep while Randy worked the buttons on Sturgis’ shirt and, after that, began on the tight leggings. Sturgis stopped Randy from taking off his leggings and pants by leading him to the bed. Only when there did he break the kiss so he could push Randy onto the mattress.

The scene flickered and when it refocused Sturgis stood naked before Randy, who was looking admiringly at Sturgis’ cock.

“How do you want that tip?” Sturgis asked.

Randy arched an eyebrow before flipping over and getting on his knees, presenting his smooth, tight arse to Sturgis.

Albus caught himself licking his lips as he watched Sturgis dig his fingers into Randy’s hips as he situated himself behind him. As Randy looked over his shoulder, his eyes seemed to bore into both Albus and Sturgis and Albus felt his own cock pull his trousers tight against him. He groaned as he undid his belt and released the buttons. Meanwhile, Sturgis pushed his cock slowly into Randy’s hole.

Randy bit his lip before letting his head fall to his chest. Sturgis continued to work himself deep into Randy’s arse, grunting as Randy’s tight entrance stretched around him. Albus didn’t know how it happened that he was now standing so close to them-- so close that if they were really in the room with him, he would be able to feel Sturgis’ heavy panting across his shoulders. He fought the urge to reach out and touch them, to feel the shivers he saw up and down Randy’s spine, to wipe away the bit of sweat working its way down Sturgis’ temple. Instead, he took a deep breath and pulled down his trousers and pants and, in a fit of nervous bravado, grabbed his own cock.

As Randy whimpered for more, Albus tried to imagine what it would feel like if it were an arse that his cock was wrapped in and not his own hand, tried to imagine what it would feel like to be that deep inside someone, to be pumping furiously against someone like Sturgis was now doing to Randy. He wondered what his balls bouncing off someone’s thighs would feel like and how it would sound to have someone shout out his name as they came like Sturgis did to Randy as he stilled deep inside of Randy and shivered all over, his glamour slipping once more.

Albus growled, wanting to come before the memory faded and sent him to the surface. However, unlike last time when the memory ended moments after Sturgis came, this one continued with Randy turning around and sitting up, taking Sturgis’ arm and pulling him down for a tender kiss that continued and deepened as they both ran their hands to the reachable parts of each other’s bodies.

Albus stopped pulling on his cock and just slowly circled the tip, licking his lips, trying to imagine what that kiss tasted like, what it felt like to penetrate someone’s mouth with that much longing and need.

Finally, Randy broke the kiss and breathily asked, “Still hungry?”

Sturgis growled his answer, trailing his tongue along Randy’s jaw before whispering something in his ear.

“Well, I still have this sausage,” Randy said, reaching for his still-hard cock.

Albus groaned again. Who wrote this shit?

“Famished,” Sturgis said, pushing Randy down again so that he was lying flat on his back. Sturgis climbed on top of him. Straddling him, he bent his knees and with his feet flat on the bed, lifted himself above Randy so that he was hovering over the man’s cock. Randy grasped his cock and guided it into Sturgis hole before Sturgis slammed down hard, groaning and Randy gasped, bunching the sheets below him in his tight fists.

“Fuck me!” Randy ordered, all pretense of ridiculous metaphor and role playing gone.

Sturgis reached out and Randy clasped his hands in Sturgis’ as he began bouncing up and down on Randy’s cock. His thigh muscles pulsed with the effort, but other than that, it all looked fluid and free of thought and mechanics, Randy pulling him down harder each time, pumping his hips to meet Sturgis’ arse in deeper and deeper thrusts each time.

Albus again began stroking his cock, matching his thrusts with theirs. His eyes flicked wildly between that place in the middle of them where they joined and separated again and again, to Randy’s face and its sweaty glow as it began to flicker with release and with a slip of his glamour as well.

For a moment Albus’ heart stopped beating as Randy’s eyes, now honey brown and shimmering, seemed to focus right on him. Then the man smiled, and Albus’ heart did more than stop; it felt like it grew three sizes and beat in his throat. It wasn’t just that the man looked as familiar as his partner, it was that Albus was absolutely sure that he had looked into those eyes before, had seen that smile—or one very much like it.

And then he cried out, “Teddy!” as he came with a gasp.

Albus shook his buzzing head and just like Randy’s glamour was back and he’d returned to looking like no one Albus ever met before, like no one whose face had haunted his wet, sticky dreams long before he knew what that meant.

He’d never allowed himself to think of that in his waking hours; he’d denied it to himself when he wasn’t alone in the privacy of his erotic imaginings. And here he was in memories like he never knew existed a few days ago, staring at a man who had those same eyes, that same smile, and he tried to convince himself that it was all in his imagination. That none of it meant anything. He hadn’t even realized that the memory was over and that he was floating to the surface until he smelled the candles and stale sweat and other scents of the viewing room he didn’t even want to contemplate.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” the shop owner asked as Albus walked passed him.

“Hmm?” Al asked, not even realizing there was anyone else there.

“I just asked if you found everything you were looking for.”

Al knew the words the man spoke were in a language he recognized, but he couldn’t make sense of them, so he smiled and nodded. It had worked in his Hogwarts days.

He was at the door before some of his senses returned. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Mr. Peverell.”

“Those performers, in those…those… what do you know about them? Randy and Sturgis?”

“Oh, they’re our most popular actors. They did anything, as anyone.”

“Anyone?”

“Well yes. As you imagine, in this business, glamours and Polyjuice potion are used quite regularly. Those two boys would become anyone the industry wanted them to be, though they preferred gay porn. They only had one stipulation.”

“What was that?”

“They only worked with each other.”

“Yeah?”

“I guess they were together, you know, a couple. But they couldn’t be. The times you understand, weren’t as liberated as they are now.”

Albus snorted. The man continued. “I guess this was their way of being together, of thumbing their nose at society.”

“Yeah, but who were they? You know, when they weren’t Randy and Sturgis?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… I mean… they look familiar.”

Now the man looked even more confused. “Familiar? Meaning you’ve seen them before? In a place that’s not in a memory?”

“I don’t know… Yes… in the moment when their glamour slips… in that moment of… well, they become themselves, and those are the faces that look familiar.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean their glamour slips?”

“You’ve never watched the memories?”

“Not really my thing. No offense.”

“And no one has said anything before?”

“So, you’re saying the memories are defective?”

“No. Not at all. Just a glitch. But it’s really fine. I was just wondering if you knew anything about them, that’s all.”

“Just that they started making these memories in the late ‘70s and they stopped in the mid ‘80s.”

“Nothing else?”

“Porn stars aren’t really known for their personal lives, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

But Al cared. He cared a lot.

***

Mum and Dad,

Something has come up. I’ll not be at dinner. Let everyone know how sorry I am.

Albus

He tied the note to his owl’s leg. Short and sweet when making excuses. He couldn’t remember which uncle had taught him that, but it had served him well. Especially when dealing with his parents. His father in particular had a way of knowing when Al was lying.

There was just no way that Al could endure a family celebration with Teddy and Victoire as the center of attention. It had been torturous before, but now? Al shuddered. Of course it was that, he told himself, and nothing to do with the bottles of memories and shrunken Pensieve he had brought with him from the shop.

He had picked the memories at random, not really caring about the flimsy story they were badly acting through or even the particular sex act they would be performing. All he really wanted to see was those glimmers of the real people inside, those moments when the parts they played were wiped away and they looked at each other with the truest of devotion.

Leave it to you to seek out the romance in porn, Albus chaffed himself.

It wasn’t just that though, it was the mystery of it too. Who were these men? Why did they look familiar and why did one of them remind him so vividly of Teddy? If he didn’t know that Teddy’s father had obviously been in a relationship with Teddy’s mother, that they had been married, for Merlin’s sake, he would have imagined maybe the man was, in fact, Remus Lupin. Teddy didn’t talk about his parents, but Al knew at least that he obviously wasn’t gay.

Al reasoned that maybe there wasn’t any resemblance at all; maybe he had just latched on to the flimsiest of likenesses because it was easier for his psyche to sort that enigma. Or, maybe he just needed yet another excuse to watch more of the memories.

And that is exactly what he did for the rest of the night and early into the morning.

He watched until he no longer heard the cheesy lines they delivered as they pretended to be boss and secretary, rancher and field hand, even traveler and farmer’s daughter when Albus had let his curiosity win over and checked out their more heterosexual porn. He watched until he was no longer shocked or aroused by the unimaginable things they did to each other in all shapes and sizes. He watched as over and over Randy and Sturgis became something else: they became human.

He watched until he heard a loud banging on his bedroom door. Then he stopped, came to the surface, shrunk the Pensieve and went to the door.

“What the hell?” he said as a way of greeting his brother on the other side.

“Good afternoon to you too. Were you planning to sleep your whole life away or just the next day or so?” James asked, peeking past Al as if checking to see if he was alone.

“What are you going on about?”

“I’m going on about the fact that you haven’t come out of that room for almost 24 hours. And I’m going on about a message that dad asked to relay to you.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“He said he’ll let last night slide, but that you are to make an appearance tonight. No. Matter. What.”

“Fine. What’s tonight again?”

“Guys’ Night.”

“Merlin. What was the night before last, what is this weekend? How many Guys’ Nights does one soon-to-be-wed need?”

“Turn around.”

Albus was so thrown by the non sequitur that he did it before asking, “Why?”

“I just wanted to know if you needed any help pulling that broomstick out of your arse.”

“Sod off.”

“Really, man. Teddy is getting married just this one time. So what if give him a week of celebrations to send him off? The night before last was for all his friends, the Guys’ Night tonight is for family—unless you want Dad and all the uncles to be at the stag weekend—”

Albus shook his head with a shudder.

“I didn’t think so. That is for Teddy’s closest friends, which I thought you were among. If this is too much for you, if you somehow all of a sudden have something against Teddy, even though you’re one of his best men, then by all means—”

“No. Not at all. Not even a little bit.”

“So you’re saying no?”

Albus smiled. It was impossible to fight with James. It wasn’t impossible to hate him --he’d spent a good amount of time hating his brother --but it was impossible to fight with him. James wouldn’t allow it.

“Yes, I’m saying no, the stick up arse, as you so delicately put it, doesn’t have anything to do with Teddy,” he lied. “I will be there tonight, and I will be there this weekend, and I will be there standing beside you and Teddy at the wedding.”

James hugged him and then put him in a headlock and rubbed his head with his knuckles playfully and painfully for a minute until Albus broke free.

“Arsehole.”

“Cocksucker.”

***

Watching his father and uncles getting drunk was usually one of Al, his siblings and cousins’ favorite things. They told old stories that they didn’t talk about in other ways. So, they were known to the kids as their drunken fairytales.

That night, though, Albus could barely keep up with which story they were telling. All of his thoughts were instead focused on not imagining Teddy, who was sitting right between his father and Uncle Ron, in any of those positions Albus had been watching earlier in the day, or the night before. It didn’t help that every once in a while, with both men talking animatedly to each other while pushing Teddy out of the way, he would look to Al with a help me look.

“…so there we were, just minding our own business…”

“Like we always were…”

“…when suddenly there was just this breath on the back of my neck, so close…”

“How did he always do that?”

“I don’t know. He was just always there. He always knew where to be…”

“While you guys weren’t doing anything at all,” James added.

“Exactly,” Uncle Ron slurred. Thankfully, he had put down his drink this time. Last time, the whole table had gotten soaked with his wild gesticulations. “We were innocent.”

The whole table sputtered. Ron blushed.

“Anyway. What would he always say?” Albus’ dad asked.

Ron cleared his throat and said in a voice very much not his own, “‘Funny seeing you here, Mr. Potter.’ No matter who was there with you, it was always just Mr. Potter.”

“That’s because he liked me special.”

Albus sprayed his drink all over the table as he coughed violently, the liquid having gone down the wrong pipe in his dawning realization when Uncle Ron had mimicked one of their favorite subjects, Severus Snape, their supposed adversary turned hero.

That voice, but more importantly, that phrase, Funny seeing you here.

“I was just kidding,” his dad said to him as James smacked Al on the back to clear his pipes. His dad had obviously thought he was spewing about the Snape liking him special, and maybe he would have, if he hadn’t already been mid-choke.

Albus shook his head and, taking a deep breath, stopped coughing. “Sorry. Wrong pipe.”

“You remember in our third year—” Uncle Ron began.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts—” Al’s dad picked up.

“Neville’s Boggart!” they both said through giggles.

James, Al and Hugo all looked at each other and rolled their eyes. They had heard this story. A lot. Teddy, however, had not. Their father talked to Teddy about Remus-- of course he did-- but he rarely told stories about him.

“Teddy, your father—”

“The best DADA professor Hogwarts ever had—”

“Ever had. When teaching us about Boggarts, he had Neville—”

“Professor Longbottom to you lot—”

“Yes, him. Anyway, he calls him up and asks what scares him the most. Of course he says Snape.”

“Everyone would have.”

“Well, right. Almost anyone would have.”

Al tried to pay attention to the story; mostly he was paying attention to Teddy listening to the story rapt with attention, a gleam in his eye that Al couldn’t turn from. But then they got to the part where Snape emerged from the wardrobe in a dress.

Suddenly, his mind wandered to one of the memories from earlier. Sturgis glamoured as a woman, a very beautiful woman, but still, it was that moment that came to mind.

Snape in a dress... Snape in a dress. And then it all fell into place. Where he had seen that face before: there was a painting of it in the Headmaster’s Office. It had sneered at him a few times when visiting with Professor McGonagall. As if the painting couldn’t believe that life was so cruel that they should have to share the same name. The portrait of Professor Dumbledore had been a bit kinder, but Al had imagined that they both were disappointed in their namesake and how he was turning out.

Al’s mind was racing to put this new piece of information into the puzzle that was slowly becoming his life. His curiosity made him reckless, a trait his mother always said her children had inherited from their father, and he found himself asking:

“Do you think Snape was gay?”

All eyes were on him before he’d even realized he’d said it aloud.

Ron’s laugh broke the silence. “Snape gay? Merlin, could you imagine?”

“I tried really hard not to imagine Snape as anything ever. But no, I never imagined he was gay, although, I guess that would explain a few things,” George said.

Ron laughed again.

Al’s father said, “I’ve told you about the way he felt about your grandmother. He loved her.”

Al nodded and hoped the subject would soon change. The truth was, he had heard about Severus and Lily forever (his father liked his children to know about the people they were named after), but it never meant romance to him. In fact, when he thought of the relationship between them, he thought of the relationship between himself and his cousin Rose, and that was certainly not romance.

The first few years at Hogwarts had been rough for both of them. When he had sat on that stool and the Sorting Hat was put on his head, he’d thought about what his father had said about asking for what he wanted, and he’d thought about The Bravest Man he was named after and how he had been in Slytherin, and before he thought about anything else, before the hat had been placed fully on his head, it shouted out, “Hufflepuff.”

Hufflepuff?

The world stopped in that moment. It had been so unexpected that even Slytherin seemed as if it would be a better choice. He had made his way to the middle table, the middle of the road, the average and uneventful. He’d felt far from his brother, his cousins and everyone he knew. When Rose got placed in Ravenclaw, she had a very similar expression.

Outcasts.

Sure, Ravenclaw wasn’t the same as Hufflepuff, but still, she was the first Weasley since the creation of the school to not be in Gryffindor. She had felt weak and cowardly and it was up to Al to convince her it was because she was a genius. Just like it was up to her to convince Al that he was where he was supposed to be and that Hufflepuff had many redeeming qualities—not just being nice. That Hufflepuff had produced some great wizards and the rest of the school could just fuck off with the teasing about The Heir of Potter being a badger.

Through the years since, they had been there for each other when no one else had, just like Severus and Lily all those years ago. He understood that sort of devotion to someone you had no romantic feelings for and he often wondered how his father didn’t.

The older generation continued to tell stories of their time at Hogwarts, whether real or embellished (and Al had read the history books, he knew which was which), and the younger crowd listened, or if they were James, drank a lot while making eyes at the barmaids.

Al tried hard to stop looking at Teddy who, he noticed, couldn’t stop looking at him with wide and, dare he think it, excited eyes since Al had blurted out the question about Snape. What did that look mean?

***

That night when he came home, he told himself to go to bed, that he had drunken too much and that he had imagined that look, that he imagined that familiar voice saying that familiar phrase with that familiar face.

Severus Snape a porn star? It was ridiculous.

What had the shop owner said? I guess they were together, you know, a couple. But they couldn’t be. I guess this was their way of being together, of thumbing their nose at society.

Even supposing that the man in the memories was Severus Freakin’ Snape, there was still another huge question. Who was the other man? The man Snape looked at with that look that Albus had never seen in any portrait, the look that said more than he imagined Severus Snape ever wanted to be known. That he was in love. And why, why did that man look so much like Teddy Lupin?

He had to go back, had to see for himself. Just one more time, he told himself.

This time when he landed in the memories, he was shocked to see that he was in what looked like a classroom at Hogwarts. Sturgis was at the instructor’s desk hunched over a notebook. He was glamoured to look like...Oh God, Al thought, as the ridiculous parody of Severus Snape looked up from his notebooks when there was a knock on the door.

Randy entered, glamoured to look younger than the fake- not- fake Severus Snape. Randy was wearing Gryffindor robes and looked defiant and petulant.

“Funny seeing you here, Mr. Longsword,” Sturgis said in that now familiar drawl.

Albus groaned. They weren’t even trying to hide it anymore. How was he the first person to put this together? Then he realized, he probably wasn’t the only one. But, like the shop owner said, those were different times. You couldn’t out Severus Snape and Remus Lupin for being porn stars without admitting that you’d been viewing gay porn. Who was going to do that?

Certainly not him.

How could he explain how standing here in the quasi-classroom watching these two men exchange horrible scripted banter and remove their clothes in slow, measured movements made him feel? How he felt more alive and truly himself here than almost anywhere? How could he?

Tonight when he watched, he found himself, more than ever before, imaging what it felt like to have someone do to him what they were doing to each other. Not just the sex of it, but the life lead of it as well. It was a risk, putting themselves out there in that way, and yet they did it. For each other.

This made Al think of Teddy and what he would think if he were to know that his father had been gay and had been a porn star that was in love with Severus Snape. He couldn’t even imagine how that conversation would go.

***
The next morning Al heard a knock on the door, but he thought James would get it and so he ignored it, his head pounding from the night before’s drinking and yet another porn marathon on his return. The knock came again. Reasoning that James must not have returned home, Al groaned and got up.

He contemplated stopping for some hangover potion, but another knock made him change his mind and head straight for the door.

“Teddy,” Al said, instantly awake. It was on the tip of his tongue to say, Funny seeing you here, but thankfully, he was still capable of sorting fiction from reality.

“Hey, I was hoping I’d find you here,” Teddy said.

Al felt like hell. Teddy had never looked better.

“How do you do that?” Al asked.

“Do what?”

“Look so good after a night of drinking-- forget that-- after a week of drinking?”

“Ah, that’s my secret.”

“Tease.”

“I suppose I could tell you. Ready?”

Al nodded as he opened the door wider and stepped back, letting Teddy in.

As Teddy walked in, he leaned over and whispered in Al’s ear and ruffled his hair. “I don’t drink.”

“At all?”

Teddy shrugged. “Not when I’m surrounded by a huge crowd of men who are looking to have a good time. It makes me nervous. Besides, watching your family make drunken fools of themselves is way better when I know I won’t forget any of it or feel like throwing up the next morning.”

“Hey, they’re your family too. Soon to be even more so.”

“True. So, what are your plans for tonight?”

“You mean my one night free of being a best man? Nothing. Why? You want to hang out?”

Teddy laughed. “Oddly enough, I thought I’d see if you wanted to get a drink.”

“I thought you just said—”

“Well, this would just be the two of us, so I can have a few.”

“You won’t be doing anything you’d like to forget?” Al asked, then swallowed hard, hoping Teddy wouldn’t take that the wrong way.

“Teddy smiled again. “I think I’ll be safe. And if I do, well, you can remind me, yeah?”

“You can count on it.”

“Great. So, I’ll come pick you tonight, 8 o’clock?”

“Sounds good. See you then. Where we going?”

“You’ll see. I’m sure you’ll love it though.”

A few hours later and they were walking down a quiet side street off Diagon Alley to a place Al had never seen before.

“Telly’s Tattle Tale Tavern, really? What is it about alliteration? I have to know. It’s everywhere.”

Teddy laughed. “I’m not sure. Maybe because it’s fun to say?”

They walked in and Al looked around. “Is this a sports bar of some sort?”

“What makes you think that?” Teddy asked.

“Well, look around. It’s full of men…” He swung around and looked hard at Teddy again. “Is this a gay bar?”

“Yeah. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“I guess…” Al’s mind was racing. Why had Teddy brought him here? Was Teddy trying to tell him something? Something other than he knew Al was gay? “Only. Well, why did you bring me here?”

“Come on. Let’s get a drink. You look like you need a drink.”

“Lots of them, please.”

“Go find a quiet table and I’ll go to the bar.”

Teddy brought back two shots of Firewhisky and two pints of beer. “I thought a Flying Carpet would do the trick.”

He sat down, placed the beers in front of Al and himself and then caught Al’s eye, waiting for a nod before dropping the shots into the glasses and lifting his to his lips to gulp the drink. Al did the same, concentrating on the burn of it going down. He thought he might need a few more of them before the night started making sense to him again.

Al was going to ask the question again, but it seemed pointless. Instead he asked, “How long have you known?”

“That you were...?”

Albus nodded.

“Years. I’ve just been waiting for you to figure it out.”

“You couldn’t have helped me along?”

“How exactly would I do that?”

“I don’t know. How did you know, though? Is it that obvious?”

“Not that obvious. But, I think you’ll find that when you finally tell people, they won’t be as horrified as you’d like to imagine.”

“Tell people? Why do you think I’d tell people?”

Teddy looked at him for a long minute. Then he got up, went to the bar and came back shortly with two pints.

“Did I ever tell you about my father?” Teddy asked.

“Your father?” Al’s heart raced.

“Yeah. When I was in my seventh year at Hogwarts, I found a secret compartment in an old trunk that had been his. In it were a lot of things he had hid away, probably hoping no one would ever find them. Turns out, being a werewolf wasn’t his only secret. In fact, in the times he lived in, it probably wasn’t his most guarded secret.”

“But he married your mum. He had you.”

Teddy shrugged. “That is what men who were afraid to be who they were did to please people they loved. Besides, according to some of the letters I found, my mother was well aware of who my father was, of who he truly loved.”

“Who did he love?” Al asked, knowing the answer.

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t say in his papers and diary. Said it wasn’t his secret to tell. But he talked of a love affair that spanned decades; saw him through the worst of times; helped him understand what life was worth and what he had to fight for. You see? That was the life he had to live. I don’t want to see that for you.”

Al swallowed.

“You deserve to be happy and to love who you want to love.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t be happy?”

“No.”

“Can’t love who you want to love?”

Al looked down at his pint, his face in flames. He wished that he could be somewhere else, anywhere else, but he also knew he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else with anyone else.

“Oh,” Teddy whispered after a minute. Albus forced himself to look at Teddy. To try and convince Teddy that it wasn’t him. But something in that look obviously had the opposite effect.

“Oh,” Teddy repeated. Then after a moment, as if searching for the words, he continued, “Al, you don’t… you don’t love me.”

“Don’t tell me who I love,” Al spat, not even understanding where the anger came from.

Teddy held up his hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I mean I know you can’t love me back, I know it’s hopeless, but you can’t tell me that I don’t feel how I feel.”

“I know. And I do love you. Not like you want me to. Or actually, maybe exactly how you want me to.”

Al looked up from his drink. “Huh?”

Teddy took a deep breath and again looked as if he were struggling to get it just right. “I just mean… maybe… well… maybe you love me because I’m safe. You know I can only return that love to a certain point.”

Al didn’t think that was true, but he had no words to contradict him.

Teddy continued, “Forget that I’m not gay. Forget that I’m getting married in two days. Al, you’re like a brother to me.”

Al barked a deep, painful laugh with the irony of it all. It was true. Al suddenly knew it was true. Was shocked that he hadn’t known it before, back when he wondered with bitter jealousy how Teddy could marry Victoire who he had grown up with. Al hadn’t even put it together just how fuckin’ creepy he was himself. Teddy was like a brother to him.

What did that say about him?

He quietly finished his pint and didn’t even notice when another one presented itself in front of him. Teddy looked nervously at him, but didn’t interrupt Al’s silence.

Am I creepy? Al thought as he raised his pint glass. But the answer came to him before he’d finished his swallow. Not creepy. Scared.

“You’re right,” he said after he’d finished his drink. “You are safe.”

Teddy looked so relieved and Al hadn’t noticed how far away his best friend had moved away from him until he leaned close and put his hand on Al’s shoulder. “Your life—it’s going to be brilliant! Can you feel it?”

Al shrugged.

“Look around,” Teddy kept on in the super-enthused voice. “Do any of these blokes look miserable to you? Do any of them look scared? This is what your life could be.”

Al looked around. Everyone did look like they were having a good time, but more than that, they all looked like regular blokes. They didn’t stand out, didn’t scream gay. And though Al didn’t think he was ready to take the step of starting to put himself out there, it was nice to know he had options.

“So, we’re good?” Teddy asked.

“Of course.”

“Thank God. This weekend would have been awkward if one of my best men wasn’t speaking to me. And just think of the actual wedding day!”

“I’ve been trying not to think of that, actually.”

Teddy nudged him hard as he stood up to get one more pint.

***

That night when Albus returned home, he contemplated another viewing of the memories he’d been addicted to lately, but his heart—and libido—just wasn’t into it. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel like watching them again.

When he woke up the next morning, he realized why. He was tired of living in other people’s lives, in other people’s secrets. He was tired of secrets all together.

And as he stood beside Teddy and James and watched Victoire look at Teddy in a way that Al never would, he looked out into the large audience of family and friends and hoped that Teddy had been right, that no one would be that shocked by what he had to tell them. Soon.