Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: hogwartshoney
From: mindabbles

Title: All Along
Characters/Pairings: Sirius/James, Snape/Draco, Harry/Teddy
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: docking, size kink, mutually enjoyed rough(ish) sex, misuse of neckties, a little rimming
Other Warnings/Content: Hmm, I think that about covers it.
Word Count: 10, 400
Summary/Description: Sirius wants James. Severus needs Draco. Teddy's waited long enough, but Harry's waited even longer. They each need a nudge to get their heads on straight and go after what, or rather who, they need.
Author's Notes: One gift for three stories, three connections made by one gift. Recipient, I hope that I managed most of your requests (I couldn't get them all together, but I did get them all here) and that you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing for you. Thank you to the best mods ever. Thank you to the best betas ever.



Everyone should have a specialty. Mine is bringing people together—sometimes people who should be together and sometimes people who, strictly speaking, probably shouldn't, but it's so good when they finally give in. Wizards and witches need me because they can be as thick as cold custard. I don't bewitch them. I only help them to see reason.

That's me—bringing people together since 1563 when Sirius Black first put springs in the works.

Now, I'd been hidden away for a while. That lovely young Cedrella dropped me on her flight from this awful place. I'd never been the cause of a disowning before and it made me a bit skittish for a few decades. Marrying a Weasley certainly didn't seem like such a crime to me.

Right, so I'd been hidden away from some time—did I mention that this is an awful place, and it only seemed to become more grim over the past few decades? I'd fallen back down behind a cabinet that could have put a chill on the warmest summer day when Cedrella took her leave. I often wondered what that dashing, ginger-haired Septimus Weasley thought when she showed up without his grandfather's pocket watch. Mind you, I don't really belong to any witch or wizard. Anyway, it had been a cold stretch of time when young Sirius—that's right, the other Sirius—reached down the back of the cabinet and clasped his fingers about me. I hadn't felt anything so warm and lovely, and needful, for a very long time. He didn't drop me when he took his leave of this grim place. In fact, he gripped me so tightly in his pocket while his horrible parents shouted at him and threatened him that I thought he'd bend my cover. But, I'm solid brass and made of sturdier stuff, and so, apparently is the young man, because he shouted back and off he went.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

James stretches out his long legs, crossing his ankles under the table. Professor McGonagall paces in front of the room and every eye in the class follows her. With the exception of Sirius' two.

"I cannot stress enough the importance of using your time during the holidays wisely. Enjoy yourselves, yes, but remember that NEWTS will be upon us before you can blink."

"Mr Black," she says. Sirius' eyes snap back from contemplating the length of James' legs and the way James' jaw forms a perfect line and enjoying the warm feeling that line brings to his stomach.

"Yes, Black, listen. You'll need every bit of advice you can get. This'll be one time you can't scrape by because someone's deluded enough to find you charming," Snape mutters, probably a little louder than he intended.

"I reckon that evens the field for you at least a bit, then," James says, flashing a grin.

Sirius laughs and doesn't bite. His time's better spent imagining that he might try and talk James into giving it a go. Just once. He also doesn't bite when Snape conjures a piece of parchment and makes it appear on the table in front of him and James. A crude drawing of a stick figure with long hair bending over in front of a stick figure with hair sticking straight up like a hedgehog comes to life on the parchment.

"Gentlemen," she says, frowning at the drawing and giving the three of them quelling looks in turn, "As my Aunt Kate used to say, before you give someone a piece of your mind, make certain you can get by with what's left. I'd suggest you concentrate more on your studies and less on tearing each other apart."

"I intend to practice for the match against Slytherin over the holidays," James says. He pulls that stupid Snitch out of his pocket and tosses it in the air, grabbing it as quick as a snake.

"I'm pleased to see you taking that seriously, Mr Potter," she says. "I'd certainly welcome the cup this year."

"Mouth off to Snape in class and she still praises you. You're bloody amazing, you are," Remus says once they're in the corridor.

Sirius agrees, but he's not about to say so.

*

Sirius has always wanted to fuck him. James, that is. He walks about the room as if he has no idea, but he does. He must feel Sirius' gaze on him, just as Sirius can feel James in the air. The tosser stretches and bends and does everything to make Sirius watch him. He pulled off his school robes the moment they walked into the dorm and he's been strutting about in trousers and bare feet every since.

"Prongs," Sirius says.

"Yeah?" James answers, without turning from his packing. He runs his hand over his head, flipping the out of control hair from one side to the other.

"Put on a shirt."

"Too much for you, Padfoot?"

Now James turns. He's a skinny bastard, with long, wiry muscles. He's pale as the full moon and his pink nipples are peaked, waiting for Sirius' tongue.

"Not enough, more like." Sirius flashes James a grin.

"Look away, then," James says.

"Wanker."

"Loses its punch when I know you'd like to watch."

"In your dreams," Sirius says, though they both know Sirius is lying. Sirius takes a deep breath and changes the subject while there's still some blood flowing to his brain. "Oy, we should all get together this hols. Invite Moony and Wormtail to yours for the New Year, being our last ever Christmas Holiday."

"You're not going soft on me, are you?" asks James. His voice has a less swagger than it did a moment ago.

Sirius can't form the words to express how big this all feels.

"Shut it or you won't get your present this year," he counters, instead of letting the moment overwhelm him. Giving James his present isn't an option in front of Moony and Wormtail. He's got nothing remotely close to it for them. He's also not keen to give it on Christmas in front of James' parents.

"You wouldn't," James says. "And deny yourself the pleasure of making me happy?"

The rucksack he'd packed to take to the Potters for the holidays lies half open on his bed. The ancient pocket watch is buried beneath his robes and underwear.

Sirius reaches in and searches the bottom of the bag. His fingers close on the watch. He starts. It feels as if he's dipped his hand into a warm bath. He's always felt drawn to the thing in a way he can't really explain—in a way he never has to anything else he's found in his parents' house. He's always assumed this belonged to one of the others who got themselves scorched off the tree.

It's about the size of that bloody snitch. That's what made him think to give it to James.

"I haven't wrapped it yet," he says. He walks over to James, who's gone quiet for once. "Happy Christmas."

He drops the brass sphere into James' open palm. James draws in a breath as it hits his skin. He turns it over.

"I thought you should have something a bit more grown up than a snitch to play with, seeing as we won't be at school anymore."

James turns it over again. He opens the brass hatch covering the face. The hands are moving around the face in a pattern Sirius has never seen before. "Thanks, Padfoot. I've never seen anything like it."

"It belonged to one of my ancestors."

"You're giving me something from your family? I don't know what to say, Padfoot. Are you being kind or trying to kill me?"

"Fair question. Right, this'll sound completely mental, but as long as I've had it, I thought I'd give it to you. It's not dark and it's not dangerous. Only this seemed like the right time."

"Sirius," James says. "I really don't know what to say. Thank you."

James is standing too close now. The air between them seems to vibrate. Sirius reaches out to push James back a step or two. Instead, when his hand presses against James' chest, he opens his fingers wide, touching as much of James as he can. James looks at him as if he's never seen him properly before.

"Well, stop looking at me like that," Sirius says.

"So," James whispers. He puts his hand over Sirius' and presses it against his chest. "Snivellus' drawing. He was right?"

"Bite your tongue," says Sirius. Sirius puts his other hand on James' hip and James leans forward. Sirius is hard and the look in James' eyes tells him he is, too.

"I'd rather you did that."

Sirius presses his lips to James'. James still has the watch clasped in one hand. His other hand is in Sirius' hair, making the kiss fiercer and harder.

"Fuck," Sirius mutters when their teeth clack against each other. Sirius feels clumsy and desperate in a way that he's utterly unused to.

"Yeah," James mutters and he twines Sirius hair through his fist, pulling a bit and the slight jolt of pain rushes straight to Sirius' cock.

It's going to happen. It's finally going to happen and Sirius reaches for the front of James' trousers.

A peel of laughter rings out from the stairs, cutting through Sirius' lust addled brain. Remus' voice carries up and Peter answers him.

He steps back from James, breathless and hard, his lips parted. James looks better than Sirius has ever seen him with a flush on his chest, kiss-stung lips, and his hard cock straining at the front of his trousers.

Just as Remus' footfalls land on the top step, James leans forward and whispers in Sirius' ear, "I want to fuck you. Tonight."

*

Sirius leans back on his pillow. His Transfiguration notes are unfurled on his lap. He's been staring at the parchment on and off for nearly an hour, never reading a word, while his roommates chatter and settle in. It's late enough that his owl has gone off hunting and the moon has risen above the mountains.

James keeps touching the watch in his pocket. Sirius can see him close his fist on it. James has been giving him looks that last a little longer, smiles that are a little brighter, all evening.

"Padfoot," Remus calls from his bed across the room. "Why are you pretending to revise?"

"Must keep up, Moony," Sirius says.

"We go off on holiday tomorrow," Peter says, squinting at Sirius. "What're you up to?"

"Such a jaded attitude for a young lad, Wormy. Must get ahead."

"Right," Peter says. "I'm going to bed before I have detention into next year."

"I'm knackered," James chimes is. Sirius catches his eye. James ruffles his hair and Sirius wants to sink his fingers into it. "Wake me if this plan is anything interesting or dangerous."

"Don't wake me unless it involves food," Remus says, pulling the curtains on his four-poster closed.

"You're all mad." Sirius laughs and follows Remus' lead.

The second his curtains are shut, he falls onto his back. His body tingles with anticipation. He can feel the kiss, feel the way James pressed against him and battled for control. He closes his eyes and he can see the way James' lips looked after he kissed him, full and red.

He grabs fistfuls of his blanket and clenches his eyes shut to stop his hands from slipping into his pants.

"We go off on holiday tomorrow, Padfoot."

Sirius starts. He doesn't see anyone there, but he can feel James looking at him.

"The cloak?" Sirius asks. He feels like his grin could split his face. "It's been a while."

"Get under with me. Old lang syne."

"Idiot."

Sirius searches for the bottom of the cloak and slips in with James. James is grinning like the idiot he is and Sirius thinks about kissing him right there.

They slip from Sirius' bed and tiptoe from the room. Peter and Remus are both snoring peacefully.

The castle is dark and quiet. Sirius' heart beats fast in his chest. It's like it was when they were kids and the thrill of sneaking out in the cloak was almost too much to bear. James' eyes are bright with enthusiasm and Sirius can see that he feels it, too.

"Let's go," James says. He grabs Sirius' hand and runs.

Sirius lets him lead—this time. They run until they are on the fourth floor. James slows to a walk and Sirius knows where they're going. James pushes back the tapestry depicting the Hogwarts founders. He steps into the first secret passageway they ever discovered. It was just there when they needed it, second year, running from a gang of fourth year Slytherins.

"If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were being romantic," Sirius says.

"Trying to get you in the mood, Pads," he says.

"Been in the mood all afternoon."

James plants his hands on Sirius' shoulders and pushes him back against the wall. He grabs Sirius' shirt, fists curling in the cotton. Sirius reaches out for James' shirt as he hears the cloth tear and buttons skitter across the stone floor. James reaches for Sirius' wrists, trapping his hands against his sides.

"What're you going to do?" Sirius asks.

James laughs and surges forward. His lips connect with Sirius' and Sirius pushes back.

He wrenches his wrists from James' grip and finally digs his fingers into James' hair. He works his tongue past James' lips, kissing messy and rough and spins them around, slamming James' back against the wall. James is breathing like he's run a mile. Sirius touches his face, his neck, his chest, following his hands with his lips and his teeth.

"Fuck, Padfoot," James says. His hands are in Sirius' hair now, tugging it hard as he pushes Sirius' head lower.

Sirius struggles against him and moves until he can lave his tongue over James' nipple. He pulls it into his mouth and teases with his lips, running his teeth across it enough to feel the soft flesh give between his teeth.

James gasps and moans, "Too much."

Sirius licks soothingly over the nipple and moves to do the same on the other. "Been wanting to do that all day," he says.

"Yeah, well I've been wanting to do this," says James. His fingers fumble at Sirius' trousers. He opens them and shoves his hand down Sirius' pants. His hand circles Sirius' cock and the angle and his urgency make it rough, it's almost more than Sirius can bear, and so good it makes Sirius' knees buckle.

"Fuck, yeah," Sirius moans. He presses his hand against the front of James' trousers and palms his hard cock. James rocks against his hand. "You." Sirius flips open the buttons and pulls James' trousers down to his hips. His cock strains against his pants and Sirius pulls it out.

"Come on," James says. "Come on, Padfoot."

"Yeah," Sirius gasps. He's past words. He doesn't intend to let James be able to speak much longer. "Like this."

He slams into James, rubbing their cocks together. The first touch of skin against skin sparks through him like fire.

"Harder," James demands.

Sirius circles both of their cocks with his hand so they can slide against each other. It's rough and sticky, the friction eased just enough by the liquid at the tips of their pricks.

"Harder," James demands again.

Sirius covers James' mouth with his. James' mouth opens and Sirius sucks James' tongue into his mouth. He moves his hand back and forth along each of their cocks, squeezing tight so he can feel every ridge. James thrusts and Sirius meets him. He wraps his other hand around them and he can't think anymore. His hips are beyond his control and he fucks into his hands, along James' cock. They're so near each other now, so close, that their cocks bump and grind against their stomachs and they push through Sirius' fingers.

"Next time you're gonna suck me," Sirius says, jerking them off together, mercilessly.

"Next time I'm gonna fuck you," James says. He bends and sinks his teeth into a tender spot on the side of Sirius' neck, making his vision go white. He keeps his hand closed and feels his cock pulse against James', his hot come coating both of them.

Sirius presses his forehead to James'. His softening cock slips from his hand. He closes his fist tighter around James and strokes his cock hard and fast and ruthless. James curves his hand around Sirius' head and pulls him back into a kiss. Their teeth clack and send a shock through Sirius' jaw. He wants to see James come. He wants him shaking and begging.

He drops to his knees and James looks down in surprise. Sirius pulls James into his mouth and sucks, hard, on the tip of his cock.

"Bloody hell," James groans. "I can't—" He gasps, thrusting helplessly into Sirius' mouth.

Sirius slams a hand into James' abdomen, pinning him against the wall. He wraps his hand around the base of James' cock and wanks him, meeting his hand with his mouth on every stroke.

"Sirius," James cries out as he comes, his thrusts erratic and hot, bitter fluid filling Sirius' mouth. He presses his hands against James to feel the way his muscles tremble.

Sirius pulls back, continuing to stroke James' cock until James laughs and pushes his hand away. Sirius spits onto the ground next to him and lets James pull him roughly up to meet him. James is kissing him again and Sirius feels his own cock stir, knowing what James tastes on his tongue.

"Padfoot," James says. They way he says it—broken and desperate, wrapping his arms around Sirius—makes Sirius feel open and raw. James is an utter bastard. He knows Sirius wants him. This can't happen again, and they both knew that before they started. "I won't forget how you feel right now."

"Oh," Sirius says. He captures James' mouth in a kiss. Maybe it can, after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I never promise happy endings. That's not what life's about, after all. Take some happiness where you find it. Leave things in better shape than you found them, and if you have a moment—even a moment—of true love, don't toss it out with the rubbish. Sure, sure. Soppy, right? Well, the world would be a better place.

I stayed in that young James' school trunk for a few years. They weren't easy years and I had trouble keeping myself in good repair through it. I don't know just what happened the night of the explosion, but I do know my gears nearly seized up. Sirius was there at some point and I thought he might come looking. I'm not sure he could see. The big man who took the baby found me in the trunk—James hadn't opened it in years. I don't think he wanted that clever wife of his to see it. The big man gave the baby to some Muggles and me to Minerva. I stayed with her for some time, and we got on rather well. I won't tell you how I ended up with Severus. That's a different story.

I make my way where I'm needed. And if anyone ever needed a push to notice where he might find love, at least that's attainable, it's this man. Some people think there's only one for them. Balderdash.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"It's tiresome."

"Only you would say that," says Draco. He walks around to face Severus. His fingers grip the arms of the most comfortable armchair in the staff room. Despite his apparent attitude, he's wearing newly designed robes and he seems to have had a haircut.

"You seem to believe that you no longer need to speak to me with respect," he says, levelling Draco with a piercing stare. "You are mistaken."

The stare has a very different effect on Draco than it did years ago. "Only you would say that, Sir," he says. He can't help the smile that spreads on his face.

"This is ridiculous," Severus says. He's as close to seeming uncomfortable as Draco's ever seen him.

"Well, considering that the last time you were staff here, you fled with McGonagall at your heels, it's rather nice that there's to be something of an official welcoming back."

"Headmistress McGonagall, Draco."

"That's Professor Malfoy to you."

*

Minerva begins the evening with the feast. There is a time and a place for mourning and a time and a place for getting on with it and giving thanks where thanks is due, she explains. This is the latter.

Severus accepts his warm introductions to the students and nods graciously at the effusive proclamations of his heroism. He hardly looks as if he'd like to throttle Potter when Potter reaches to hand him a scroll with the commendation. He carries it with such grace that only Draco knows just how uncomfortable all this public attention is making him. He offers a few humble words of thanks and you could hear a pin drop in the great hall. Severus always could command a room with a look.

Draco smiles, claps, and allows himself to delight in the fact that he and Severus share this secret.

Draco takes a long drink of his wine. It is a superior vintage and the rich astringency spreads over his tongue. He closes his eyes for a second to intensify the flavour. When he opens his eyes he catches Severus staring at him, at his mouth.

That tears it. He leans over at the staff table and whispers in Severus' ear, "Come to my rooms for a drink after. I don't think I want to be alone."

*

"They'll all be off for their holidays in the morning," says Draco. He rolls his eyes at himself in the mirror above the fireplace.

"I recall the schedule," Severus says. "But some will stay."

"I'm staying," Draco says. The moment that the Headmistress had asked for staff volunteers for the holidays, Draco had added his name. Rattling about the empty Manor was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

Severus raised one eyebrow. "Your mother is still abroad?"

"Mother is enjoying her freedom. While I'm pleased she's happy, I don't particularly care to witness it." Draco fills a snifter with brandy. He hands it to Severus.

"And are you happy, Draco?" Severus asks. He's so close. He takes the brandy and his fingers are warm as they touch Draco's.

"I could be," Draco says.

Severus smiles the most genuine smile Draco has seen on him since the day he was released from St.
Mungo's, gaunt and weak, but alive after years of treatment.

"Perhaps you could be as well," Draco says.

*

The holidays turn out to be quieter than Draco had expected. Only about a half a dozen students stay and a few staff stay on. He doesn't feel lonely for one moment. He's met Severus in the library or staff room every day to work on preparing lessons for the next term. It's been the best week he remembers in a very long time.

Christmas day comes cold and clear, with one of those crystal skies that seems too blue to be real. Draco's cheeks burn from the icy air as he tramps up the hill from the forest. Firenze has been incredible, the way he's helped Draco prepare for the second term of his first NEWT level class.

He stomps the snow off his boots and makes his way through the entrance hall and to his rooms. Once inside, he points his wand at the fire and a blaze springs merrily to life. He's time for a bath and a drink by the fire before Christmas dinner and he needs every moment to gather his courage for asking Severus to come back here with him after.

He's just started to undress when there's a sharp knock at the door. He pulls his robe back on and opens the door to find Severus standing there.

"I thought you might like a drink before dinner," Severus says. He holds up a deep amber bottle of whisky. "You look cold."

"I've been down in the forest all morning." Draco steps aside and ushers Severus in.

"If you'd have told me a decade ago that you'd be seeking council from a Centaur—"

"A lot has changed," Draco interrupts.

"That is indisputable."

Two drinks and half an hour later and Draco is sleepy and happy enough that he's on the verge of suggesting they skip Christmas dinner and stay by the fire.

"Dinner's soon. Minerva's expecting—" he begins.

"Before we go down for dinner," Severus says. "I have something for you." There's barely perceptible nervous timbre to Severus' voice and it makes Draco's pulse race. "I haven't given you your gift," Severus says.

"I—I haven't got anything for you," Draco says. He looked at several things, but nothing seemed right.

"I don't want anything from you, Draco. This is something I've wanted you to have."

He stands and walks in front of Draco's chair. Into Draco's open hand, he drops a small brass ball, about the size of a snitch. It fits perfectly in Draco's palm and feels warm and alive, almost like the first time Draco touched his wand.

"It's beautiful," says Draco. He closes his fist around it and hears a soft whir and feels a gentle vibration as gears spring to life. He opens his hand and flips open the brass cover. Inside, several hands point to symbols. One measures the movement of the planets and another the north star. Another seems to move one tiny pulse for each beat of Draco's heart.

Severus doesn't say a word and Draco is stunned to realize that Severus fears rejection. But then, this gift is not one to give lightly. It's not something to give a former student, even one whose life you took as your responsibility. This is a gift to give a lover.

"Thank you," he says. Draco stands and he's right in front of Severus. He slips the watch into his shirt pocket and lays his palm flat on Severus' chest.

"You don't have to pretend anything," says Severus. "It's freely given."

"You do know I fancied you," Draco says, smiling. Severus has been a constant for most of his life and now they're on unsteady ground. He wants the easy camaraderie of the past few weeks back. "When I was a kid."

"You needed me," Severus says, as if that lessens the attraction.

"I think I still do," Draco says. "Don't say you don't want me."

"I'm not accustomed to getting what I want," Severus says.

Draco wants to reach up and touch his cheek. He doesn't move for fear that Severus will disappear again.

Instead, Severus is the one who extends a hand.

"I don't want pity."

Draco can't breathe for a moment. "You—me pity you?" Draco leans down and kisses him. He presses his lips to Severus', pulls back and does it again. He leans in again and again until he's breathless and Severus chases him to continue the kiss.

"And I don't want gratitude," Severus says, turning his head so Draco's lips land on his cheek.

"What I'm feeling isn't gratitude." Draco's hard from kissing alone. He can feel Severus' power. He can feel him holding back. "Yet."

Severus grips Draco's hair and holds him, hard. "Freely given," he says. He closes his eyes and pulls Draco to him. His lips are on Draco's and his tongue teases Draco's, sliding along it and curling around it until Draco can barely stand it.

Draco drops his robe to the floor and unbuttons his shirt. He turns to fold it, carefully laying it on a chair, so that the watch is safe. Severus comes behind him and wraps his arms around Draco's waist, wet, open mouth pressing to the back of his neck. Draco pushes back and Severus' hard cock presses against his arse.

"You are gorgeous," Severus mutters, teeth nipping at Draco's neck.

Draco grinds back against him, against his cock. Even through layers of clothing, Draco can feel that he's big. Very big.

He turns in Severus' arms. He kisses everywhere he can reach, touches everywhere he can. Severus' hands work at his own clothes. Draco doesn't stop touching him to help, as much as he wants to feel warm skin against his own.

"Fuck," says Draco. Severus pulls his robe aside and, as he pulls down his pants his cock springs free. Draco's mouth waters at the sight of it – impressively long and thick – and his cock throbs.

Severus pauses and pushes Draco back to look in his eyes. "It's—we don't have to do anything... if you're not…prepared."

"You can do anything you want with that," Draco says his gaze flicking back to Severus' cock. He bites his lips and he stares. He wants to touch it, but he wants to draw out the anticipation of feeling it heavy in his hand.

"Don't be crude. It's not becoming," Severus says, with a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"I haven't even begun to be crude." Draco drops his hand and draws one finger the length of Severus' cock. He leans in close, his heart threatening to pound through his chest. Severus' cock pokes into his thigh. "I've never had someone who could push me as far as I want."

Severus groans, low and deep in the back of his throat. "Whatever you want," he says, his satin on steel voice rolling over Draco like a caress.

Draco takes Severus' hand and leads him into the small bedroom. "I want you to fuck me," he says. He can't take his eyes off Severus' cock as he drops the rest of his clothing to the floor. Draco's insides flutter at the thought of it pushing inside him. "Take off your clothes."

Severus shakes his head, as if shedding the last of his resolve with his clothes. "Get on the bed," he says.

Draco slides up the bed and lies on his back. He watches Severus crawl over him. His long cock bumps against Draco's leg. He whimpers and can't help but reach for his own cock. Severus stays his hand, bends, and takes Draco into his mouth. He sucks on just the head, rolling his tongue around and around it. Draco grips the blanket with his fists to stop himself from thrusting up into Severus' mouth and coming.

"I want you to fuck me," he grinds out between his clenched teeth. "I've waited long enough."

Severus slowly pulls his mouth from Draco's cock. "You've never learned patience, have you?" Severus asks. "All right, all right," he murmurs. Then he whispers words Draco doesn't hear and his finger, warm and slick, reaches between Draco's legs and circles his entrance.

"Yes," Draco hisses. He rolls his hips, trying to force Severus' finger inside. "I want two."

"Draco," Severus moans.

Draco pulls up his knees and Severus slips in another finger. His other hand moves to hold and squeeze Draco's balls and Draco rocks back, urging Severus to move faster, harder. The third finger nearly makes Draco come. Severus presses his cock against the back of Draco's thigh and Draco sees him watching as he fucks him with his fingers.

When Severus pushes a fourth finger into Draco, he grabs the headboard and bites so hard on his lip he's sure he's drawn blood. All he can think of is more, more of Severus, getting that glorious cock inside him. He rolls his hips, letting Severus stretch him, every nerve ending vibrating on the very edge. His mouth is open, gasping. He pushes back and Severus' hand, fucking himself and begging with everything he has.

"That's enough," he says. "Fuck, that's enough."

"You should," Severus starts. He rolls onto his back. His cock stands like the mast of a ship and Draco has an inappropriate urge to suggest hanging a Slytherin banner on it. "Take this at your leisure."

Leisure has nothing to do with it. He wants Severus in him now. Draco plants his hands on Severus' chest. He can feel the ridges of his ribs beneath his fingers. There's a flush on his pale chest. All sorts of overwrought declarations come to his mind—he can't believe they've finally made it here; he doesn't have words to say what Severus means to him, how safe he feels with him. He'd say all of that if he didn't think it would risk him getting kicked out of bed.

Instead, he presses back until the wide head of Severus' cock is against his hole. "So perfect," he says. More declarations about the sheer size run through his head, but there is no way to tell a man he's 'so big' without sounding like a complete pillock, so he settles for "Severus," drawn out long and slow. He lowers himself more. Severus' cock stretches him, the head pushing the muscle to its limit. His erection has flagged as his body struggles to take in so much of Severus. His heart races and his skin is aflame.

"Draco," Severus says. His voice is even and calming. The same voice that kept him sane so many times all those years ago. "You are stunning."

"Want you," Draco moans. He rocks, tiny movements, feeling the pressure of the wide tip of Severus' cock against him. He bites his lip. He doesn't know how he's going to get Severus inside him. His cock fills again, imagining how it will feel.

Severus holds Draco, hands around his hips. He thrusts up just a bit and reaches for Draco's cock. He swipes a thumb over the tip and Draco can't help but push against him.

"Oh," he gasps. Severus thrusts again and the head of his cock pushes through. He strokes Draco. The sensation of the huge cock entering him sets every nerve ending Draco has on fire. The sharp jolt of pleasure and the intense rubbing of Severus' hand are too much and Draco's orgasm rushes through him, leaving him stunned and gasping.

He pants and drops his head to Severus' chest and Severus laughs soft, rough, and low.

"I—oh—I've never come like…"

Severus smiles. "Of all the possible reactions, that's a good one."

He steadies Draco with his hands and starts to lift, as if to push Draco off him.

"God no, wait," he moans. "Just, just give me a minute."

He's not, not, going to let this end like this. He's wanted Severus for so long and he's never been so close to having his dearest fantasy fulfilled. There is no way he's letting this end without being properly fucked.

He closes his eyes and breathes. Severus trembles beneath him. "You don't have to—"

"I've no patience, remember?" Draco braces himself and lowers himself an inch. He sucks in his breath at the burn. He pulls back up and Severus' fingers dig into his thighs. He works Severus in another inch and another until the burn eases. Each downward push, he takes in more of Severus' magnificent cock.

"Can you feel how you fill me?" he asks.

Severus moans and slides his hand around to Draco's arse, touching where his cock slides inside. "Yes," he groans. "Yes."

Draco watches his eyes get darker and with each inward thrust, Draco's cock stirs a little more. He's nearly all the way in now and Draco moves faster. He can be less careful and he wants nothing more than for Severus to lose control.

"You see, you see how hard you make me?" Draco wraps one hand around his oversensitive cock. Severus' eyes follow his movement and he starts to meet Draco thrust for thrust.

"I see," Severus says. "Draco, please."

"God, I wish I could see how we look," Draco babbles. He pushes down again and he's almost there. He's almost worked all of what must be ten inches of beautiful cock inside him. "I wish I could see how your cock looks sliding into me."

"Please," Severus begs, rough and broken and the sound of Severus pleading with him drives Draco to take him in that last little bit.

He can't speak. He can hardly breathe. Draco closes his eyes and lifts up, letting inches of Severus' cock slowly slide from his body. The friction as the girth pulls on his skin is delicious and Draco feels filthy and open. He rocks back down, fast and hard. Severus' heart pounds under his fingers and his eyes are half-closed. His fingers grip Draco hard enough to bruise.

"You're holding back," Draco breathes. "Don't."

"Draco," Severus groans as if he can't stand what Draco is telling him.

"Come on," Draco says. "Fuck me."

He feels Severus plant his heels in the mattress and he flexes his hips, pushing up into Draco. It's so hard and so deep that Draco has to hold on with both hands. He feels Severus in places where no one has touched him before and he whimpers as inches of cock drag along his prostate. Draco meets him, slamming against him. Severus tosses his head on the pillow and Draco stares. He doesn't want to miss it. He wants to see, feel, hear, every moment of this, especially when Severus comes.

"Yes, yes," Severus hisses. "Draco," he cries out, shaking and pulling Draco onto him, holding him down so his cock stays deep inside Draco.

"That's it," Draco says.

Severus keeps moving, his thrusts slowing. His eyes open and he smiles at Draco, a look that makes Draco melt a little inside. He sits back, keeping Severus inside him, and reaches for his cock.

"Watch me," he says, as if Severus would have any other choice. He rocks himself on Severus' fat cock and strokes himself. It only takes a few strokes and he's coming with Severus' eyes on him, his body clenching around Severus still inside him.

He falls forward, collapsing onto Severus. Severus finds his mouth and kisses him long and deep. Draco pulls himself gingerly off of Severus, the pull and tension of his cock sending sparks through Draco's body as he does. He lets Severus fold him into his arms at his side.

"Not many men will let me do that, quite like that," Severus says.

"And I won't let many men do that, quite like that," adds Draco. "Some might say we're neither of us 'many men.'"

"Some might say we deserve each other."

"Then I say, Happy Christmas," Draco says. He falls asleep to the sound of Severus breathing and the gentle tick-tock of the watch nestled in his breast pocket on the chair next to the bed. Just before he drifts off, it occurs to him that he doesn't remember bringing the watch in here with them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I do always seem to work my way back to a direct descendent of Sirius Black. Not that one. The first one. He was born in 1541 in London, the son of a watchmaker. He's the one who worked the charms. He's the one who worked out how to make a watch that could fit into a pocket. My predecessors were carted about by House Elves. This Sirius, my Sirius, had the misfortune of falling in love with the son of a Muggle clockmaker. He worked the charms for himself, originally. I've been trying to get it right ever since.

Anyway, I think I've mentioned that life isn't all about happy endings. Magic doesn't fix everything. I can help with the early bits—people have to do the rest. That doesn't mean happy endings aren't very welcome when they happen and a few centuries of practice has done wonders for my percentages.

It wasn't bad being back at Hogwarts. All that learning going on about and all. I'd not meant to stay put quite as long as I did. I considered Severus and Draco one of my crowning achievements, so there I stayed for a bit. Nothing wrong with taking a moment to savour it all. But students will go exploring and professors will have to chase after them, and watch chains have a way of snagging on statues—like when mine did on Stephan the Stout—and ending up at the bottom of a stair in a secret passageway until the right person comes along.
It's not always a direct route, mind. Another thing I've developed over the years is patience, and if I can help a few along the way to my next stop, we're all the better for it. Speaking of patience. Never was there a less patient person who, through force of circumstance, had to exercise more throughout his life than Harry. I do believe patience should be rewarded. Don't you?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"'Morning, Harry. You heard from the kids yet?"

"Which kids? Mine, you mean? They'll come when they come. They never give me any warning," Harry says. He lowers his Daily Prophet and smiles in the way that makes Teddy's stomach flip and his fingers twitch. He's really too old to be carrying on like that, he reflects. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to be seen," Teddy says, smiling back. One of these days he's going to say something. One of these days, he's going to ask Harry if he ever thinks about what happened eight years ago.

"You staying here for the holidays?" Harry asks. "Rumour has it the kids—mine that is—will be here and I know they'd love to see you."

"Yeah, if that's all right."

Harry looks at him as if he's said something baffling. He runs his hand over his hair. It only makes it stand up on the other side. It's shot through with grey at the temples. The silver hair seems to make his eyes brighter. Harry holds his tea cup gingerly in his broad hands, hands that look strong enough to smash it if he's not careful. The warmth of being near Harry envelopes him.

"Of course it's all right, Teddy," Harry says and he might even look a little sad. "This is your home if you want it to be."

He'll say something. Someday. He will. Today is not that day.

*

Diagon Alley is resplendent in Christmas cheer. The shops are hung with garlands of ringing bells, Christmas wreaths in full bloom, and faerie lights in every colour. Families tramp up and down the street, scarves pulled to their ears, looking for that perfect gift and stopping in for a cup of something warm. Teddy's nose is numb from the cold, but he's warm inside his heavy cloak. Harry's laden with parcels, gifts for his kids and nieces and nephews, most who will arrive tomorrow.

"Fancy a drink?" Teddy asks.

Harry grins, shifts his parcels to one arm, and slips the other through Teddy's. "I do," he says.

Teddy breathes a sigh of regret when they get to the Leaky Cauldron and Harry has to let go of his arm to open the door. He's greeted by the usual shouts of, Hello Mr Potter, sir, awestruck looks, and offers of drinks and more. When Teddy was a kid, he loved it. He loved being out and being seen with Harry and everyone seeing how important he was because Harry was holding his hand, buying him an ice cream. As soon as he has two Butterbeers in hand, he leads Harry—and Harry follows—to the furthest corner of the Leaky and sits with his back to the wall.

The Butterbeer warms him. Harry lifts his and takes a long drink. Teddy watches his lips on the mug and the muscles in his throat working as he swallows the warm beer. "Good idea, Teddy," Harry says. "This is nice. It's been a while."

"Yeah," Teddy says, smiling at him. It's been eight years, to be exact; eight years since they've had more than a few moments together, always at holidays and always with Harry's kids around the corner.

Harry reaches into one of his packages and pulls out a brown paper parcel. "I've got you something."

He slides it across the table to Teddy and Teddy takes it. He covers Harry's hand with his for a moment and Harry smiles. Harry's eyes crinkle at the corners and he's so beautiful Teddy's chest aches. It's been eight years, and they only talked about it once, right before Teddy went away on his first of many apprenticeships.

Teddy peels back the paper and there's a soft cloth, covering an ancient book. The ornate gold letters are Latin. Teddy gasps as he realises that it's the first book ever written on magical creatures.

"I want you to know I'm proud of you," Harry says.

Teddy had arrived in Romania, raw and reeling from one drunken almost night together that only served to swell his hopes and then smash them to bits. Charlie and the others made him at home, taught him about more than Dragons, and helped him forget Harry in his excitement about his new life.

"Thank you," he says. "It's incredible. I'll treasure it."

This isn't a gift you just find. Such a book is not on the shelves of Flourish and Blott's. Teddy looks up from it and Harry's eyes are on him.

"I've something for you as well," says Teddy. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the watch. It warms to his touch. "I haven't wrapped it."

He drops it into Harry's palm. It looks right in Harry's hand. Harry blinks and Teddy knows it's warmed to him as well. Harry flips open the lid and looks at the watch face. Teddy leans in to see what he sees. Their foreheads almost touch and Harry doesn't pull away.

"I've never seen that one move before," he says, reaching out his finger to point at the long, narrow hand that's ticking its way around at what seems like the speed of his pulse.

"Hmm," Harry says, frowning. He takes Teddy's hand in his, turning it over so Teddy's wrist faces up. Harry gently places two fingers on Teddy's wrist. It's only with a will of iron that Teddy doesn't whimper. "Where on earth did you find this?"

"In Romania. When I was working with Charlie."

Harry takes his fingers from Teddy's wrist. "I've never seen one, but this feels familiar. But that's impossible, isn't it," Harry says, turning the watch over in his palm.

"Dunno," Teddy says. His hands shake with nerves. He has to keep his wits about him, terrified that he'll ask Harry if he ever thinks about when they kissed and touched each other all of those years ago and send Harry running. "It was on his desk and I was drawn to it, so he said I could have it. I can't explain it, but I thought of you every time I picked it up."

"And you've saved it all this time. To give to me," Harry says, voice full of concern.

Teddy realises in that moment that Harry knows what this is and it has a meaning that Teddy felt, but didn't know. The long, narrow hand jumps around the watch face. He's just laid himself bare on the table before Harry.

*

Teddy thought he had left this raw, ripped-open feeling in London eight years ago. He takes a tumbler and a bottle of whisky from Harry's drinks cabinet. They'd spent the rest of the afternoon behaving as if nothing had happened, but Harry had gone to his room immediately when they'd got back and Teddy hasn't seen him since.

He drinks and relishes the burn in his throat. If he had a Time-Turner, he'd go back to this afternoon and give Harry a scarf.

"Teddy?"

Teddy turns. Harry stands in the middle of the front room. His right hand is closed in a fist. The cheery lights from the tree and the flickering fire bring a soft, romantic light to the room—the opposite from how Teddy's feeling right now.

"I'll have one of those," Harry says, nodding at the bottle still in Teddy's hand.

Teddy pours Harry a drink and hands Harry the tumbler. Harry starts to say something and stops. Teddy doesn't pull his hand away as quickly as he should.

Two small circles of pink appear on Harry's cheeks and he steps back. Teddy's stomach clenches.

"I didn't mean to upset you." The words tumble from Teddy's mouth. "I—if it was too much, or, well, I really don't know what it was. Only, I don't want things to be awkward between us. Again. I can't stand that."

"Teddy," Harry says. There's a warning in his voice and Teddy doesn't want to hear it.

"But, tell me I misunderstood. Before."

"Before?"

"Eight years ago, before I left. This afternoon." Teddy says. He can't stop himself. "Tell me I've misunderstood and I'll leave it."

Harry knocks back his drink in one gulp. "I can't tell you that."

"Then, I've waited for you long enough."

"Teddy, I've waited a lifetime."

Harry touches his face, a press of his palm against his cheek. Harry's finger tips make his skin tingle. Teddy turns his head so that Harry's thumb drags across his lips. He parts his lips and sucks Harry's thumb into his mouth. He bites down gently on the pad and Harry makes a soft, wanton sound as he swirls his tongue around Harry's thumb.

Harry traces Teddy's lips with his fingers and then traces the line of his jaw, the tendons in his neck. He looks at Teddy like he's seeing him for the first time. Teddy puts his hands on Harry's hips. He can feel the watch in Harry's left pocket. It vibrates with the force of the hands moving. Teddy pulls Harry to him and presses his lips to Harry's.

It's not their first kiss, but it's the first one that Harry's allowing himself and Teddy is bowled over by the intensity. Harry's hands are in his hair and smoothing over his back. He yields to the force of Harry's kiss and lets himself be backed up against the wall. Harry's tongue explores his mouth and Teddy has never felt quite so taken—just from a kiss. Harry presses his body against Teddy and Teddy pushes back.

"Harry," he moans into Harry's mouth when their erections rub against each other through the layers of their clothes.

Harry pulls back and holds Teddy's face in his hands. He hesitates and Teddy's terrified he's going to bolt—again.

"This is about you and me, nothing else," Teddy says. "I'm not a kid."

He pushes Harry off him and pushes himself from the wall. They stumble down the hallway, kissing. Teddy pulls Harry and Harry gives Teddy the lead until Teddy gives him a light shove into the bedroom.

Harry stands stock-still in the middle of the room as Teddy unfastens and removes his clothes. His heart pounds and his fingers itch to touch every bit of skin he uncovers. He traces a finger along a smooth collar bone, trails his hand across Harry's chest, curls fingers around a broad shoulder.

"Wow," he says and immediately feels like an idiot. "I mean—"

"I'll take it," Harry says, smiling. "Eight years ago, you were so young and I, well, wasn't. I never wanted to take advantage," says Harry. He lies back on his bed and Teddy knows what he's doing. He's giving Teddy space, making the move that takes this farther his. His body is beautiful, strong and solid. His cock is heavy and hard between his legs and Teddy wants to run his tongue across the length of it.

"Right, then. How about I take advantage?" Teddy strips off his clothes and tosses them onto a chair.

Harry laughs and stretches his arms up over his head.

"Accio ties," Teddy says. Harry's old school tie and a newer, also red, one fly into his hand. Teddy walks around the bed, eyeing Harry from every angle. Harry watches him.

"I'm not leaving," Harry says. He grasps the headboard.

"No, no you're not," murmurs Teddy. He wraps one tie around Harry's wrists. The pull and stretch makes Harry flex his chest and arm muscles and Teddy leans to run his tongue over a bicep.

He winds the other tie around his hand, not sure what to do with it quite yet.

"Do something," Harry demands.

Teddy kneels, straddling Harry's hips. He wraps his hand around Harry's cock and pulls slowly from the base to the top. Harry strains at the ties around his wrists and his stomach muscles flex. Teddy runs his free hand over the straining muscles up to Harry's chest. His fingers flick over a nipple and he feels the answering response in Harry's cock.

"Like this?" he asks, leaning down to kiss Harry. He moves his hand slowly on Harry's cock and, as he presses his body against Harry's, his cock is hard against his own hand.

"Mmm," hums Harry, curling his tongue around Teddy's. He sucks on Teddy's tongue and Teddy has to pull back before the kiss and his hand and Harry's cock push him over the edge way too fast. "I don't feel truly taken advantage of yet," Harry says. His voice is thick with arousal.

He wants to kiss Harry's mouth, his chest, every inch of his skin. He wants to drive him slowly mad, but not now, and he hopes—believes from the look in Harry's eyes—that there will be a next time.

Teddy braces his hand on Harry's chest and pushes himself up. He presses the tip of his cock against the end of Harry's. He curls his fingers around both of them, squeezing the spongy tips together. Harry moans and rolls his hips.

Teddy rubs the ends of their cocks together. A jolt of pleasure rushes, sharp and intense, through his body as he presses their slits together.

"Fuck, Teddy," Harry says. He bites his bottom lip and moans, bending his knees. "More."

"Stay still," Teddy says. "Or I'll tie your feet."

He can't be bothered with the tie. His wand is just within reach. He shifts so he won't lose his balance and keeps his eyes on Harry's as he says, Incarcerous. Silvery ropes bind Harry at the ankles to the footboard.

"Look at you," Teddy says. Harry's spread out on the bed, pink lips parted and green eyes pleading with him.

"You'd better do more than look," Harry says.

Teddy takes a deep breath, forcing himself to slow down. "You're awfully cheeky for someone who's tied to the bed." He eyes the tie in his hand and immediately decides against it when Harry's teeth catch his bottom lip. That mouth is much too pretty and useful to hide.

Teddy moves his hand over Harry's cock. Harry makes soft, lovely sounds that make the blood pound through Teddy's veins. He clamps his mouth shut on the stream of words about how he cannot believe he can touch Harry like this, how he adores and wants him.

He curls his fingers around the head of Harry's cock. It's silky and slippery and he can't take his eyes from his hand sliding the foreskin back and forth over Harry's cock. Without even realising it, his other hand is doing the same to himself—his fist closed on his cock, the slick friction as he pulls the foreskin over the head and back down getting sharper with each pass.

"Fuck, Teddy," Harry groans.

Teddy angles his cock so he can press the heads together again. Steadying himself with one hand, he strokes, up and down, over the heads of their cocks.

"Don't move," he says again and the look Harry gives him says he wouldn't think of disobeying, for a second.

Teddy tightens his grip, rubbing in even hard strokes. He can feel both of their foreskins moving under his hand and he works his down over the tip of Harry's cock.

"Teddy,< i>fuck</i>," moans Harry, and Teddy's sure that Harry would have bucked up and unseated him if he weren't tied down.

Teddy can only groan in return. The head of Harry's cock is pressed tight against his and he's joined with Harry. He slips his stretched foreskin back and forth and the pearly, smooth liquid from each of them joins to make the slip and slide feel luscious and filthy. He makes his thumb and forefinger a tight ring and keeps working it over and over the heads of their cocks until Harry is whimpering and biting down so hard on his lip that Teddy's afraid he'll draw blood.

"Please," Harry pleads and the sound and the sight of Harry like this, for him; the overstimulation and every bit of pleasure he's ever felt is distilled to this one moment.

"Gonna come," Teddy moans. He wanks them together, fast and hard, his hand back and forth over their joined heads. He's never come like this before and he struggles to stay upright as he feels his come pulse out around Harry's cock and through his fingers. He keeps his hand moving on them as he shudders out the last of his orgasm.

He lies down on top of Harry, smoothing his hands up Harry's side, over his face, and into his hair. His cock is sticky and softening, pressing against Harry's stomach and Harry's hard cock is between Teddy's thighs.

"What do you want?" Teddy asks, kissing Harry's cheek, and jaw, and pulling his earlobe between his lips.

"Make me come," Harry says.

"I can do that," Teddy says. He places slow, open mouthed kisses down Harry's body as he goes. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and Harry arches against him, his cock sliding against Teddy's skin.

Harry's cock is still slick with his come. He circles his fingers around it loosely, lazily trailing them up and down.

"Enough," Harry growls. "Wait and see what I do to you next time."

Teddy laughs as delight bubbles in his chest. He tightens his grip on Harry's and presses his lips to Harry's chest. He's finished with teasing and he wants to hear the sound Harry makes when he comes. He pulls Harry's nipple into his mouth, teasing with his teeth as he wanks him. He can feel every muscle in Harry's body tense. Harry's hand is in Teddy's hair, fingers gripping him, pushing his mouth against his chest.

Teddy kisses down his body, sucking warm skin into his mouth as he goes. He never stops moving his hand and he wonders how long Harry can hold out. He kisses Harry's hip and feels him shiver. He nuzzles the crease of Harry's thigh and relishes the whimper. Harry steeples his knees and Teddy kisses his balls.

"Ah, Teddy, Teddy," Harry groans and lifts his knees, exposing himself to Teddy.

Teddy's cock gives an interested twitch at Harry so wanton. He keeps stroking with his hand as he kisses and licks and leans in to swipe his tongue over Harry's entrance.

Harry makes a breathy sound that Teddy will hear in his dreams for the rest of his life. He makes another pass with his tongue, flat and firm. Harry's thigh muscles tremble and Teddy's angle is awkward, but he keeps stroking Harry's cock, squeezing over the head.

Harry pushes back against Teddy's face and thrusts up into his hand, frantically, all rhythm and grace lost to his pleasure and Teddy's never felt anything better. Harry's hand covers Teddy's, showing Teddy just how he needs to be touched. Teddy memorises every movement.

"Yes," he moans and Teddy's hand is wet and hot. Harry's thighs clamp down on Teddy's head and all Teddy can do is kiss him and hold on, listening for each sigh and gasp and feeling each quiver.

Harry sinks back into the bed, laughing breathlessly. "Oh, your head. Sorry," he says. "I'm sorry. C'mere." He pulls Teddy up to him for a long slow kiss.

"Wait," Teddy says, sinking into the feel of Harry's hand stroking his back as his cuddles into Harry's side. "I never untied you. Your hands and your feet—cheat."

Harry laughs again. "I didn't realize I did it." He moves his hand to comb his fingers through Teddy's hair. "I'm glad I did, though."

"You'd think you'd have control of unintentional magic by this age," Teddy says, pretending to scold.

He barely has the last word out of his mouth when he's on his back with Harry on top of him, tie dangling from his hand, smirk on his lips.  

"Your turn," says Harry.    

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's time to move along. My work here is done, as the saying goes. These two certainly don't need me anymore. Besides, I've heard that this Harry Potter has been known to destroy magical objects.

He'd kept me in his trouser pocket from the moment that young man gave him to me. The trousers were tossed across the room with such force that a small, spherical brass watch went tumbling out and across the floor. They were too occupied to hear the click and clatter of the rolling or to notice the frantic pace of the ticking hands as they learned to let each other in.

I've landed in the corner, near the fireplace. The lights on the tree twinkle and shine on my cover. This season when witches and wizards seem to give more gifts and take more time to notice each other is almost over. Not to worry. I'm not fussed about where I'll be next. People will come and go from this hearth and many of them will need that nudge to see what's been in front of them all along. One of them will find me. They'll only need to open their eyes.