Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: writcraft
From: mindabbles

Title: Transfiguration: Theory and Practice
Characters/Pairings: Remus/Sirius, Remus/Sirius/James, Remus/Sirius/Harry, mentions of unrequited Harry/Severus
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: Threesome, voyeurism, fingering, first times
Other Warnings/Content: anal sex, oral sex, pining, silliness, and a little angst
Word Count: 7,300
Summary/Description: Remus and Sirius are more than happy to share with their friends. After all, they have plenty to go around.
Author's Notes: Thank you for your wonderful prompt, mystery giftee. Thank you to the mods for being absolutely amazing, for continuing to run this for us, and for not breaking up with me. Thank you to my fabulous and filthy beta. Happy KK everyone!



December 16, 1977

“I can’t feel my arse,” Remus says. He rubs his hands over his backside, trying to get the circulation going. It would be awkward to get frost bite and lose bits of your arse.

“I bet I can feel your arse,” says Sirius, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously and crowding close to Remus, nearly pushing him into the room.

“Not with those things on your hands, you won’t,” says Remus.

Sirius shakes his hands, sending a shower of wet snow, along with his filthy, bedraggled mittens, onto the floor – right in the doorway to their dormitory, ensuring James or Peter will trod in a cold, wet puddle when they come into the room.

“Never malign the mittens, Moony.”

“That’s several ‘m’s. Impressive alliteration.” Remus pulls the flask from his pocket and takes a deep, satisfying drink of hot chocolate laced heavily with Firewhisky. It’s the only reason he was able to stay out in the cold as long as he did – at least if was going to die of hypothermia, he was not going to feel it. The snow is deep outside, and it’s just the right consistency for packing into snowballs, and an epic battle raged all afternoon until the sun sunk behind the mountains and the temperature plummeted. Despite this fact, some hardy souls, including James, have yet to lift a flag of truce.

“Don’t try and change the subject. I’ve won every snowball fight I’ve been in, with these mittens and my unmatched prowess as my only advantage. I won’t have you assassinating their character.” Sirius, noble mittens aside, rubs his reddened, damp hands together and cups them in front of his mouth and blows.

“Mittens don’t have character, they’re not sentient, unless they’re Dark Mittens, in which case, they should be assassinated,” says Remus. He takes another drink of the hot chocolate and hands the flask to Sirius. He’s not a monster, after all, and there’s no reason he should be the only one with this pleasant, floaty feeling. Sirius takes a drink and smiles. The moonlight reflects off the snow outside and laces Sirius’ hair with silver. “All this talk of mittens,” says Remus, waving his hand. “It’s a distraction. The reason we had to come in in the first place; The essay you haven’t finished.”

“It’s finished,” says Sirius, reaching for the flask again. Remus wonders if it’s charmed. It seems he’s been drinking from it for hours, the rich chocolate and astringent whisky warming his insides and lowering his defenses.

“It never is,” says Remus. “You’ve never finished an essay two days before it’s actually due in.”

“Just for that, you’ll sit there and listen while I read it to you.”

Remus raises an eyebrow, giving Sirius what he hopes is his most devastatingly skeptical look. He tips the hot chocolate into his mouth and lets himself sink into the warm tipsy feeling of both the Firewhisky and of being alone with Sirius.

“Accio Transfiguration essay,” says Sirius. He tumbles backwards onto Remus’ bed, kicking off his dripping boots as he does. “Ahem,” he says dramatically as he unrolls the parchment. “And you doubted me.”

“Well, I can see that you have a bit of parchment there,” says Remus, following Sirius onto the bed.

“You wound me, Moony.” Sirius shakes his head. “For that, I am going to read this beautifully crafted, on-time, essay. Every word.”

Sirius’ ankles stick out of the bottom of his trousers. Something about the pale skin and the gently protruding ankle bones make him seem vulnerable, and Remus has the urge to cover Sirius’ body with his. Instead, he draws one finger in a circle around the bone, and just under the trousers. The cold skin and soft hair tingle on the pads of his fingers.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, wrapping his fingers around Sirius’ leg, just above his ankle.

Sirius props himself up on one elbow and looks at Remus as if he’s not sure what to make of him. His dark hair brushes his shoulder and Remus knows how soft it would feel under his fingers.

“All right, then,” says Sirius. He rattles the parchment with an impressive amount of dramatic flair, even for him. “Transfiguration is a complex and precise type of magic that generally focuses on the changing of one object into another by altering the object’s molecules – really, Moony? This is how you want to spend our precious time alone?”

“Keep,” Remus says, shifting his body so that he his sitting between Sirius’ legs. “Reading.” He wraps a hand around each of Sirius’ calves and rubs lightly.

Sirius shakes his head. His stupidly beautiful hair falls forward onto his stupidly beautiful face. He sighs. “A first year student learns to change a simple object, such as a match, into another simple object, such as a needle. By choosing objects of generally the same size and shape, beginning witches and wizards can concentrate on the transformation of matter without having to also multiply or reform the molecules in any significant way.”

Remus moves both of his hands around to Sirius’ knees, cupping them with his palms. Sirius takes a quick breath and carries on as Remus trails his fingers up Sirius’ thighs.

“And yet, even such a seemingly simple transformation requires the changing of the fundamental make-up of the object.”

Sirius is so beautiful, sometimes looking at him in these moments is almost too much. His cheeks are beginning to flush and Remus can feel the tension in his thighs. The thought of what he plans to do, as Sirius drones on, makes his cock stiffen.

“I’m hard,” Remus says, brushing his hand across Sirius’ groin.

“Where we – bloody hell what’s got into you?” Sirius asks. He sounds delighted and Remus can’t help himself. He brushes his hand across Sirius’ groin again, and presses this time, lightly against Sirius’ hardening cock.

“I’ll stop if you don’t keep reading.”

Sirius makes a small sound in the back of his throat and thrusts up against Remus’ hand. Remus begins to pull away and Sirius says, “Where we have matter, we can alter or transform that matter, and in more complex transfiguration can multiply or expand that matter.”

Remus pulls at Sirius’ trousers. Sirius trembles and his voice falters as he lifts his hips to help Remus divest him of his trousers and pants.

“Uh, tran – transfiguration becomes even more complex when we endeavor to create matter from nothing. While possible, it is challenging and there are certain limitations on what can be created or transformed.”

“Keep reading,” whispers Remus as he draws a finger along Sirius’ cock.

“Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration is usually thought to govern the use of magic to, Merlin, create objects.”

Remus moves his hand to cup Sirius’ balls and squeezes softly. He shifts his body again and pushes Sirius’ legs further apart. Sirius is nearly panting and his hand is shaking where he holds the parchment. Remus stops his movements and he thrills that he doesn’t have to say anything to make Sirius keep reading.

“This is essentially true, however, when examining the five exceptions to Gamp’s law, it becomes apparent, ah, that Gamp’s law does, fuck, not only govern the creation of objects. Moony,” whimpers Sirius as Remus trails his fingers along Sirius’ cleft.

“If you want me to stop, I will,” Remus says, trying to sound a bit scolding, even as he is trembling with anticipation. They’ve touched and kissed each other nearly everywhere. They’ve sucked each other off, they’ve rolled around and made each other come dozens of time, but this, what Remus plans, is new.

“The first exceptions are fairly simple,” reads Sirius, angling his hips to give Remus easier access to his arse.

Remus circles Sirius’ hole with his index finger. “Go on,” he says, when Sirius gasps, breaking the flow of his words. He pushes just the tip of his finger past the tight ring of muscle. “Go on,” he says again as Sirius bites his bottom lips and looks, pink lips ajar, at Remus, as if he’s about to beg. “If you want me to stop, just stop reading and I will.”

“Food cannot be created from nothing,” continues Sirius. Remus pushes in slightly Sirius gasps, but keeps reading. “Neither can galleons or clothing.” Remus closes his eyes so he can do nothing but feel and hear for just a minute. The pushes his finger further into Sirius’ tight heat. “These, mm, first three exceptions are objects, or classifications of objects.” Remus pulls his finger back out and feels the way Sirius’ body clings to him. Sirius is so tight, he can’t imagine he’d ever get his cock in him, but it’s all he can think about. His cock doesn’t feel like it can get any harder, but then Sirius rolls his hips, pushing back down onto Remus’ finger. “Both food and clothing can be altered, expanded, fuck, Moony, lube, multiplied, and changed in other ways, yes,” groans Sirius as Remus slicks his finger, and the two next to it, and slides one, an easy slide now, into Sirius. “Can be altered, but cannot be created from nothing.” Remus adds a second finger. He watches this one, the way Sirius’ body shifts to accommodate him, and his finger disappears. He’s inside Sirius, and he can’t quite believe it. He’s dizzy with wanting more, and wanting this slow taking apart of Sirius to go on forever. “Galleons, as they are subject to Goblin magic, cannot be transformed or changed by wizards. Moony,” Sirius says.

Sirius tips his head back on the pillow and circles his hips. Remus holds on to his hips and pushes his two fingers in deeper.

“Keep reading,” says Remus, his voice coming out deep, almost a growl.

“God, what are you – ”

Remus freezes. He’d hadn’t heard James come in. There is no way he could have taken in anything else except Sirius’ body and his voice. Remus turns to look, slowly. James is standing near the bed, his cheeks are pink and his hand is kneading his erection through his robes.

“Fuck, Moony,” whimpers Sirius. He covers his face with the parchment, but he can’t stop moving his hips and it strikes Remus as slightly odd that neither of them seems to have considered stopping.

“I’m helping Sirius with his essay,” says Remus.

“The fourth exception is weather,” Sirius says, and they had a deal, so Remus pulls his fingers in and out again, and moves his other hand to stroke Sirius’ cock.

James’ eyes widen, but he doesn't move, except to rub his hand against the front of his robes.

“There is not much examination required here. If we could change the weather, almost every day in northern Scotland –”

Remus slides a third finger, his ring finger, alongside the other two. Sirius’ body almost seems to balk at the intrusion at first and his breath hitches, catching on the word Scotland.

“ – would be different and we would have more than just the two seasons; rain and midges. Weather, it would seem, is beyond the control of people.”

Remus is aching to touch his own cock. Sirius’ body relaxes around him, accepting all three fingers, seeming almost hungry for more. In his peripheral vision, he can see James, his robes open now, stroking his cock, mouth hanging open as he watches. They haven’t told him a thing, but he seems to know that he can’t interrupt Sirius’ reading, and he hasn’t said a word.

“The final exception is damage caused to people or animals by spells.” Remus starts to fuck Sirius in slow, even strokes. He’s touched himself like this a few times and can almost feel the frantic building of pleasure Sirius must be feeling as the sensitive nerve endings are rubbed again and again. There’s a tremble in Sirius’ voice, and Remus marvels that he can keep this up. His hips rocking, forcing Remus’ fingers in deeper and harder. “Injuries and illness can be healed, but not all spell damage can be reversed, or transfigured.” Remus wraps his hand around Sirius’ cock again, and James makes a helpless sounding noise behind him. He looks back and James is squeezing and twisting his hand over his cock. Remus makes eye contact with him and starts to stroke Sirius’ cock in time with James’ movements. “As with many types of spells, the intent of the caster matters. If the intent of the original transfiguration is that such should not be undone, it cannot be undone.”

Remus can feel every muscle in Sirius’ body tense. He thrusts down to meet Remus’ hand on every stroke. Remus, sitting between his legs, watching his fingers’ enter Sirius and pull back out, can imagine hitching forward just a bit and sliding his achingly hard cock into Sirius’ open, willing body. He groans, the thought enough to make him nearly come. James is making desperate little sounds behind him. If he's heard James wank once he's heard him wank a thousand time and he can tell James is close. Remus bites his lip and concentrates on Sirius.

“For example, if a person were to cast an Unforgivable spell like Avada Kedavra, no witch or wizard, no matter how skilled or powerful, could bring the, bloody hell, ah, Moony what are you –” Sirius gasps as Remus scissors his fingers, stretching Sirius wider.

“Read,” Remus growls. They’re too close, he’s too close to getting to watch Sirius come with his fingers deep inside him to back away now.

“Bring the person back to life. Fuck, fuck,” exclaims Sirius. His free hand clutches at the blanket.

“And what’s your conclusion?” Remus gasps out.

“Fuck me, please, fuck me.”

James says, “Fuck,” and Remus can hear his hand moving over his own cock.

Remus fucks him harder, imagining how they must look to James, and squeezes his hand over the head of Sirius’ cock.

Sirius babbles his name, and he’s watching Remus, and he’s watching James, and he shakes and moans, and Remus’ fingers are squeezed impossibly tight, as he comes, hot and hard, over Remus’ hand.

Remus holds him, keeps his fingers inside him, feeling the orgasm continue to roll through him. Remus can’t believe he didn’t come just from watching Sirius and touching him that way.

Sirius, panting and flushed, leans up on his elbows and eyes both of his friends.“You both look rather uncomfortable. Maybe you should help each other out. I’d like to see that.”

Remus’ hand is on his cock, and he’s aware of James coming closer, until he can feel his warmth behind him. He looks, and James’ cock is hard and glistening, and dark. He’s short of breath and his hazel eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide. He looks nearly out of his mind. Remus knows how he feels.

James moves to kneel on the bed, facing Remus.

“Moony?” asks James.

Remus finds himself at a loss for words, so he reaches out and pulls James’ hand from his cock, wrapping his fingers around it.

“Yes,” hisses James, as Remus starts to stroke him. It feels new, but familiar in Remus’ hand. He never thought he’d touch another cock other than his own or Sirius’, and until this moment, he didn’t know he wanted to.

Remus takes James’ hand, because James hasn’t made a move yet, and fair enough, this is even newer for James. James lets him put his hand on Remus’ cock. His fingers close around it.

“Just like I’m doing, Prongs,” says Remus in a way that he hopes is encouraging.

James has always been a quick study and he falls into time with Remus right away, moving his hand from the base to the tip of Remus’ cock. They both slump forward, breath coming more rapidly, hands moving faster and hard, and press their foreheads together, holding each other up.

“Merlin, that’s hot,” says Sirius, and Remus feels him suddenly next to them. His lips are on Remus’ neck, fingers on one of his nipples. He looks down and Sirius’ is gently pinching one of James’ with his other hand. Remus turns to kiss Sirius, a hot slide of lips and tongue and gasping breath. Another hot mouth is on his skin and James is following Sirius’ lead, mouthing at Remus’ neck as his hand keeps up the relentless pull and slide on Remus’ cock. Sirius moves to capture James’ mouth. They’re kissing and Remus is right there as well, and he can almost taste their kiss, and it’s possibly the sexiest thing, next to Sirius writhing with Remus’ fingers deep inside him, that Remus has ever seen.

“Fuck, Padfoot, Prongs, more,” he gasps. James strokes his cock harder and faster and Sirius and James both kiss his neck, one each side, and he’s coming harder than he ever has in his life. He’s shaking and trembling so that he can barely keep up his hand on James. Sirius’ fingers close over his, and they finish James together, James’ come coating both of there hands, and their fingers entwined.

They all collapse on the bed, in a heap, sweaty, breathless, and spent.

Something is digging into Remus’ hip, and it’s the flask. There’s still some in it and Remus takes a drink. The sweet, warm chocolate tastes fantastic and the alcohol adds to his sleepy, sated feeling.

James grabs the flask and takes a long swig. “How did that feel? When he had his fingers in you?” James asks. He looks like he can’t believe he said that out loud. He grabs the flask and takes another huge swig.

“Bloody fantastic,” says Sirius. His hand gently caresses Remus’ shoulder. “Brilliant,” he adds, smiling at Remus. “You should try it sometime.”

James just takes another drink and glances at Remus.

Remus blinks. He’s surprised to find that the idea of having James join them again doesn’t feel threatening, doesn't feel like Sirius is less his. It feels right. “Yeah, Prongs. Next time.”

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

December 16, 2004

“Remus! Remus,” shouts Sirius, as if the house is on fire.

Remus nearly jumps out of his skin, which sets off a chain of annoying events. He bangs the back of his head on the open cupboard door, drops the tea pot, which knocks into the cream jug, which rolls into the open cutlery drawer. Rubbing the back of his head, and ignoring the mess for now, he runs to the front room.

“What’s the matter?” Remus asks, quite literally looking for the fire.

“Look at this,” Sirius says. His eyes are bright, almost feverish. He is holding up a thick envelope. Remus feels disoriented for a moment as he recognizes that the words “Padfoot’s Rubbish” are scrawled on the front in James’ handwriting. He forgets about the tea and the cream and the pain in the back of his head.

“Where on earth did that come from?” He asks, because that’s the first thing that comes to his mind. Sirius managed to keep very few possessions from their youth, and even fewer from after he’d left Grimmauld place. Over the years, they have found everything that was there, or so Remus had thought. “Sirius?”

Sirius’ expression is an odd mix of joy and nervousness, and Remus feels a bit the same way.

“Hagrid,” says Sirius, shaking his head. “The old bugger said he was going through old boxes in his cellar and he found this. The night – that night – he apparently grabbed a few things he could shove into his bloody great pockets, and said he forgot about this until he found it just now.” Sirius holds up a note with Hagrid’s messy writing, presumably that explains all this. “It must be the things I left in James and Lily’s guest room.”

“Are you going to open it?” Remus asks, just as Sirius begins to rip open the top of the envelope, very slowly.

“Come here,” says Sirius and Remus is next to him in a second. He feels like it’s Christmas morning, but more so, and with an intense uncertainty about whether he’ll get a new broom or coal. Sirius shakes the contents of the envelope onto the sofa. “Right,” he says, and he lifts the first thing off the pile.

There’s a photo of Sirius and Remus, arms around each other, and a baby Harry on Sirius’ lap. Another photo of Lily, grinning as she mounts her broom. Remus feels a lump form in his throat and he hears Sirius clear his. There are notes, written between all four of them – from silly ones from their younger years of school, to plans for pranks, to short and cryptic ones from the years of the war. Sirius has always been a sentimental fool, but Remus can’t believe he saved what would have seemed so trivial to most teenagers, but now seems like treasure trove of happy memories.

“Look, Moony,” says Sirius, holding up a longer bit of parchment. It’s written in Sirius’ teenaged handwriting and it begins, Operation Moony.

Remus takes it and he can remember the feeling of that day when he learned what his friends had done for him, as he reads Sirius’ painstaking notes. James’ and Peter’s handwriting appears as well, jotted bits and pieces in the margins. “Wow,” is all he can find to say. He’ll read this later, when he can take in every bit of it, when he’s not so overwhelmed by the volume of memories assailing him.

“I’d forgotten I wrote this,” says Sirius. He shows Remus an envelope. It’s Gryffindor gold, sealed, and says To Harry on his first birthday. “I’d left this at home when we went over for his party. If I recall, you had distracted me a bit just as we were leaving.”

“Well, you can give it to him now,” says Remus. He remembers that day so well. It was a happy one – one of the last few before their world imploded.

“Yeah,” says Sirius, placing the card aside on the end table. He shakes his head, as if clearing it of cobwebs, and lifts up the last item.

“What –” begins Remus.

“Fuck, remember this?” Sirius asks. He holds up a long scroll of yellowed parchment for Remus to see. It’s an essay and it begins, Transfiguration is a complex and precise branch of magic and ends, Fuck me. The last in messy, thick script, as if it had been written with the tip of a finger instead of a quill.

“How on earth do you have that?” Remus asks. “And, of course I remember it.”

“I never handed it in.”

“But you kept it?” Remus asks, but of course Sirius kept it. It was the first time they had done more than kiss and touch, and their first time with James.

Sirius nods and shrugs, a little sheepishly. Remus feels a fond smile spread on his face. It’s been a long road to get to where they are and Remus is unspeakably grateful that they arrived here together. Of course the past still sometimes comes rushing in – sometimes it’s a nightmare of his own or a memory of Sirius’ that drives Sirius away from him for a little while. Sometimes the memories are of friendship and adventures, and having everything he never dreamed he’d have. Either way, they can always find their way back to the present pretty quickly now.

“We’ll have to think of a proper way to thank Hagrid,” says Remus. Remus wonders if Hagrid knows what he really gave them – a gift of good memories, of retroactive hope.

“We will,” Sirius agrees. He’s still looking down at the essay. “Look here,” he says, pointing at a line that reads, The first exceptions are fairly simple. There’s a small crescent-shaped tear in the parchment, as if a finger nail punched through. “What do you think was happening there?”

“Hm,” says Remus. He carefully lifts the precious notes and letters and photos and moves them to the end table. “I’m not sure I remember, exactly.” He comes back to sit, straddling Sirius’ lap. “But I reckon we could go back through it, line-by-line, and see if we can’t trace our steps.”

Sirius looks up at him and smiles. “You always were very clever, Moony.”

Sirius leans up and kisses him, slow and soft. There’s heat behind it and Remus wonders if they’ll be ninety and Sirius’ kisses will still make him weak in the knees. Remus rocks in Sirius’ lap and sighs into the familiar feeling of desire building between them.

“So, tell me more about transfiguration,” says Remus, moving his lips over Sirius’ neck. He scrapes his teeth lightly over the tendon below Sirius’ ear and feels himself grow hard as Sirius moans and rolls his hips.

“If that’s where we’ve got to with dirty talk, it’s time for a relationship conversation,” says Sirius. His hands are on Remus’ hips and they slide around to cup his arse. His grey eyes twinkle with mischief and desire, and Remus nearly drowns in his want for him.

“Get your kit off,” says Remus, pulling Sirius’ robes open.

“That’s more like it,” Sirius says. He shifts, so his robes fall away from his shoulder. “And yours,” he adds.

Remus removes his own robe. He settles back on Sirius’ lap, his thighs stretched tight across Sirius’ lap. Remus runs his hand over Sirius’ chest, the hair coarse and the skin marked with scars and tattoos. He presses his hand over Sirius’ heart, feeling the beat and marveling as he often does that, beyond all imagination, they are here together. Sirius leans up and presses his lips to Remus’. Remus threads his hands through Sirius’ hair and sinks into the kiss.

“Padfoot,” he murmurs, as he runs his tongue along Sirius’ lips. Sirius rocks his hips and Remus can feel him smile against his lips. Remus scoots forward in Sirius’ lap. He can’t get close enough to him, wants be wrapped in Sirius, engulfed by him. Sirius’ hard cock presses against him and he feels dizzy with want. He parts his lips and lets Sirius’ tongue slide between his.

Sirius moans into the kiss, curling his tongue around Remus’. He scrapes his fingernails lightly down Remus’ back, making him shiver. It’s so quiet that all Remus can hear is his own trembling sigh and the crackle of the burning logs in the fireplace.

Remus pulls open Sirius’ trousers. His cock is so hard that Remus can rub his hand over the head, where it’s poking up past the waistband of Sirius’ pants. He works his hand under the waistband so he can stroke the length of Sirius’ cock. Sirius’ hand cups Remus’ erection and rubs him through his pants. His hand is hot and the slow, perfect pressure makes Remus want to grind down into Sirius’ lap and make them both come like this. He won’t, though, because he needs more. He needs Sirius inside him. He needs Sirius to take him and make him know that, despite the parchment, lying there on the end table and reminding him of all they lost, they still have each other, they can still make each other forget everything else.

“Moony,” Sirius murmurs, bringing Remus back. “Moony,” he says again as he slips his hand inside Remus’ pants, pulls them down, and wraps his fingers around Remus’ cock.

Remus moves so he can press his cock against Sirius’, and Sirius immediately opens his hand and squeezes their cocks together. Remus’ hand joins Sirius’ and they slide their fists over their cocks together. The heat and the friction make Remus’ hips rock without any conscious thought, fucking into their combined fists.

Sirius’ hand presses into Remus’ lower back, holding him steady, grounding him. Remus bends to kiss Sirius.

“Want you,” he whispers against Sirius’ lips. Sirius’ mouth curves into a smile again and Remus can feel that smile to his toes. “Have I ever told you how much I love it when you smile when I kiss you?” he asks.

Sirius laughs softly and waves his hand and whispers a charm. Remus feels a surge of desire, knowing what comes next, and he moves his hand faster on their cocks. “Please,” Remus groans.

Sirius’ hand moves to trace down to Remus’ entrance. He doesn’t wait, he doesn’t tease. He pushes his slick finger past the tight ring of muscle and then pulls it almost all the way back out.

“Like that?” Sirius asks, fucking Remus slowly with his finger.

“More,” says Remus.

“Yeah,” Sirius says as he adds a second finger, and then after just two strokes, a third.

Remus rocks back onto Sirius’ hand. Their cocks are still pressed together, moving slowly now, constant heat and friction. His nerve endings are on fire and Sirius’ fingers are driving him closer. “I’m so close,” he moans. He looks down to watch their hands around their cocks, pressing the heads together and getting slicker and slicker.

“Fuck me,” he says, at the same time as someone else says, Fuck, he rocks back hard again, and the someone says sorry, and it’s not Sirius.

“Harry,” says Sirius, and he stops moving.

Remus feels ridiculously exposed, arse spread open and writhing on top of Sirius. He can’t imagine what Harry must think. He forces himself not to jump. He takes a deep breath and moves, shifting himself out of Sirius’ lap with as much dignity as he can muster.

******

Harry can’t imagine what he was thinking. He should have turned around and left the second he came into the room, but the sight of Remus and Sirius on the sofa, their cocks pressed together and Remus spread across Sirius’ lap, writhing on his fingers, was too much.

He’s come for a drink and some sympathy. It has been a rough day. Severus is better every day. And yet, he continues to pretend everyday, as he has for months, that he doesn’t need or want Harry to come by. But Harry knows better, and just these past few weeks, he thought they were getting somewhere. This evening, Harry had felt drunk with anticipation, and quite a bit of egg nog, because Severus had actually invited him over for a drink. He’d even, at one moment, thought Severus was about to kiss him, but then they’d made eye contact and Harry had felt the wall come springing back up. Now Harry’s a bit pissed, he’s frustrated, he’s randy, and he’s hurt.

Sirius is covering himself with his half-open robe, and Remus has grabbed a pillow. They are saying something to him, Harry realizes, and they both look very sincere.

“The card, would you like to see it?” Sirius asks. He gestures to a pile of parchment and maybe some photos on the table next to the sofa.

“Not now. If that’s okay,” says Harry hesitantly. He doesn’t want to hurt their feelings. It looks like whatever this card is, it’s important to them, but all Harry can feel his the hollowness in his stomach, the fuzziness in his head, and the ache in his cock – and seeing them about to fuck didn’t help at all with the last. And he has no idea how Sirius can ask about a card when, well, when he’d just been about to fuck. “Later, I’d like to read it later.”

“Of course,” says Remus. “You all right Harry?”

Harry can always tell them anything and he lets the thoughts that have been swirling in his head spill out. Severus won’t let him in, and every time they are getting somewhere the past comes rushing in and the man Harry knows now disappears.

“I never thought I’d take his side in anything,” says Sirius. “But,” he says, probably in response to the warning look Remus shoots him, “I am sure he doesn’t think he deserves you. I might think he’s right there – ouch, Moony that hurt – but, from what I’ve seen of him, I don’t think he’s forgiven himself.”

“You don’t have to be defined by things you did when you were young. I don’t want to be,” says Harry.

Remus pats the sofa next to him. It feels a bit odd, and completely right at the same time, to go sit next to him, when the two of them are still barely covering themselves and Harry cannot get the image of what he walked in on out of his head. Remus looks at him with his kind, brown eyes. “That might be a bit easier to manage when what you did when you were young was for the good of those you love. Harry, if you want him, you are going to have to find a way to get close enough for him to see what you see.”

Sirius reaches over and places his hand, warm and solid, on Harry’s knee. “I can’t imagine what I would do without you,” says Harry.

“I can assure you that no one is more pleased to be here for you than we are,” says Sirius. His hand squeezes Harry’s knee and Harry is struck by the vision of where that hand just was.

“I interrupted you,” says Harry. As always, they’ve helped him to calm down and he thinks he can probably stand to be in his own skin now. “I should go.” He looks them over, their still half-undressed state, and he’s been half-hard since Severus asked him over for a drink, and he needs to get home and have a wank or three. “Just because I’m never going to have sex, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

Remus and Sirius share a long look and then Sirius asks, “Should we help the lad out?” Harry doesn’t understand what he means, but Remus must, because he laughs, the crinkles at the sides of his eyes making his eyes sparkle. “If I recall, you used to like a bit of an audience.”

“James was more than an audience,” says Remus. “At any rate, I think you enjoyed both the audience, and the participation, every bit as much as I did.”

“My dad?” Harry asks. Lots of questions go through his head – did his mum know, how many times, what did they do, are they fucking serious right now? None of them come out of his mouth.

“Your dad watched a few times, joined us now and again. Purely for educational and medicinal purposes,” Sirius says.

Harry’s face flames. As much as he would like the sofa to swallow him, his cock is suddenly and completely hard in his jeans.

“Harry?” asks Remus.

“I – I’d watch,” he mutters, letting his hand drop to press against his cock.

”You want to watch?” Sirius asks.

“Yeah,” whispers Harry, and he's surprised that he has let himself say that aloud.

“Moony,” says Sirius, patting his lap. Harry watches as Remus slings his leg over Sirius’ lap, so he’s straddling him just as he was when Harry first burst in on them. Remus and Sirius are already half naked, so the rest is easy. Sirius pushes Remus’ robes all the way off Remus and smoothes his hands down his back. Harry’s fingers itch to touch the expanses of skin.

Harry presses his hand harder against his erection and watches as Sirius moves his fingers back to Remus’ hole. Sirius’ hard cock is already straining towards Remus, and he rocks his hips, sliding his cock against Remus’ arse as his fingers find their way inside.

Remus leans forward and kisses Sirius. Harry can see their tongues slide against each other, slow and deliberate, and he wonders what it must be like to lose yourself in someone else like that.

“Padfoot,” murmurs Remus. He works his hips in a circle, grinding against Sirius. Harry slips his hand into his pants. His cock is hard as stone and it’s an almost unimaginable relief to rub his hand along it.

Sirius steadies his cock and Remus slides down onto it, just like that. Harry gasps. He can see how the plump head stretches Remus’ body, entering him in one luscious thrust.

“Ahhh,” Remus groans and Harry’s voice mirrors him.

Remus pulls himself up, and Harry watches as Sirius’ cock slides out of Remus’ body and pushes back in as Remus works himself back down. His head is thrown back and he’s lost in it, fucking himself on Sirius’ cock. Harry pulls his cock free from his pants and moves his hand over it in time to Sirius’ thrusts into Remus’ body.

“What does it,” Harry starts, and he can’t quite believe he’s watching this, much less asking, but he has to know. “What does it feel like to, to, have him inside you?”

“More,” moans Remus. “Fuck me, Merlin, so close.”

Remus rocks down harder onto Sirius’ cock, and Sirius thrusts up to meet him. Harry wants to ask if that doesn’t hurt. He can’t imagine that it doesn’t, but it’s also the hottest thing he has ever seen and he rolls his own arse against the sofa to feel the pressure as he strokes himself. Remus’ cock is hard and dark and slaps against his belly every time he bottoms out onto Sirius.

“Do you want to help him?” Sirius asks Harry. He slows his thrusts so he can speak as he touches Remus’ cock. Remus moans and bites his lip. Harry’s throat goes dry.

“Do you want to touch me, Harry?” Remus asks, his voice halting and rough. “Do you want to see what it’s like to have a hard cock in your hand?”

Harry feels his cheeks turn pink, but he couldn’t move away if he tried. He leans closer and kneels on the sofa next to them. Sirius stills to allow him to get settled.

“Sirius,” moans Remus, and Sirius smiles at him and starts moving his hips again.

“God,” groans Harry. Sometime, sometime soon, he has to find out how that feels.

“Touch him, Harry,” Sirius says. He gasps between each word, punctuating them with thrusts into Remus’ body.

Harry reaches out and takes Remus’ cock into his hand. It feels so different from his own, so different to touch someone else’s cock, and so familiar at the same time. Sirius and Remus slow their fucking to let Harry get into a rhythm. He finds he knows just how to move his hand, just how to squeeze a little at the head.

“Yes,” Remus says. “Harry, just like that.”

“How’s it feel?” Sirius asks. He grips Remus’ hips and starts to fuck him in short, sharp thrusts.

“Good,” Remus and Harry moan at the same time. Harry watches his hand on Remus’ cock and has to wrap his hand around his own.

Remus leans back, gripping Sirius’ knees behind him and rolls his hips, grinding Sirius’ cock into him.

“Faster,” he groans and Sirius starts to fuck him faster. “Harry,” Remus grunts. Harry moves his hand faster and he can feel Remus’ muscles tense.

“Moony, come,” Sirius says, gritting his teeth.

“Yes, yes,” Remus says again and again, so the words turn into one sibilant stream of breath.

Harry strokes him and Sirius fucks him and Remus is coming all over Harry’s hand and Sirius’ belly. Remus captures Sirius’ mouth with his and kisses him fiercely. Harry stops stroking himself to watch, utterly rapt, because suddenly he doesn’t want to come by his own hand. He wants more.

“Can I –” He starts, but he has no idea what he was going to ask.

Remus pulls back from the heated, desperate kiss. “I think he should fuck me. Don’t you, Padfoot?” He rolls his hips again and Sirius groans. They share a look that makes Harry certain he’s trod into the middle of a memory.

“Yeah,” says Sirius and he leans up to kiss Remus again. Sirius nudges Remus’ hips and Remus moves so Sirius’ cock slides out of him and he’s straddling Sirius’ lap again, his arse in the air in the same position he was when Harry first burst in on them. “Remus wants you to fuck him, Harry.”

“Oh my god,” moans Harry. He wraps his hand around his cock again, this time to squeeze and stop himself from coming on the spot.

Remus reaches out and grabs Harry’s arm, urging him off the sofa. “Only if you want to,” Remus says. “It’ll be good practice for your main event.”

Harry can’t imagine anything he wants more right now, other than maybe to be doing this with Severus, but Remus and Sirius are here and Severus is sitting at home stewing in his own stubbornness. He moves behind Remus and touches his lower back, palm flat against Remus’ warm skin.

“He’s only in the mood for a little while after he’s come, so you’d better get on with it,” says Sirius. He sounds eager and Harry can see that he’s stroking his cock. The cock that was just inside Remus, where Harry’s about to be if he can work up the nerve.

“Slide it in and then instinct will take over,” says Remus as Harry lines up his cock and presses the head against Remus.

Remus’ entrance is slick and relaxed and Harry pushes in, his cock easing inside. “Oh,” he gasps. It’s hot and slippery and Harry groans as he realizes that it’s Sirius’ come making it so, so wet in there. He starts to move and Remus braces himself on Sirius, Sirius’ hands coming around Remus’ waist, supporting him.

“Harder,” Sirius says. “He likes it harder.”

Harry curves his hands around Remus’ hips, holding on so he can thrust harder and faster into him. “It’s, oh, fuck, fuck,” Harry moans. It’s amazing and so tight and so hot and he’s not going to last.

Remus is making content little sounds and he’s kissing Sirius. Sirius’ fingers’ are suddenly right there, sliding over Remus’ arse and feeling where Harry’s cock enters him.

“So fucking sexy,” Sirius says. His fingers tighten and Harry can feel the pressure of them on his cock, tight, right before he feels the soft heat of Remus’ body.

It hits him hard and fast and he’s coming, thrusting furiously into Remus, past Sirius’ fingers. He loses all sense except the feeling of coming inside someone, his orgasm rolling through him and threatening to buckle his knees. He falls forward, his cheek resting against Remus’ back.

“That’s it,” Sirius says. “Yes,” he moans.

Remus is kissing Sirius and Harry can feel the muscles in Remus’ back clenching as he moves, stroking Sirius’ cock. Harry listens to Remus’ heart beat and holds onto him, catching his breath as Sirius moans and comes, and then they are all still. The stay like that, each touching the other, pulse rates slowing to normal, for several beats of Remus’ heart.

“Harry,” Remus says, patting Harry on the side.

Harry slides his nearly soft cock out of Remus and steps back. Remus turns to flop onto the sofa next to Sirius and reaches to pull Harry down next to him.

Harry feels sleepy and sluggish and awkward. As brilliant as that all was, he’s not sure he can look at either of them.

“Severus is going to be one lucky man,” says Remus quietly, squeezing Harry’s shoulder.

“He’d better shape and realize it, or I’m going to –” mutters Sirius.

“You are going to let Harry handle his own affairs,” says Remus.

“I just hope I have an affair to handle,” Harry says. Remus slings his arm around Harry’s shoulder in a gesture that feels comforting and warm. Sirius reaches over Remus and rumples Harry’s hair.

“I’d be happy to tell him he doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Remus says, smiling warmly.

“No,” says Harry. He stands and Remus’ and Sirius’ hands slide off him. “Thank you,” he says. “For everything. That was beyond brilliant and, well, I think I have to go. I’m going to tell him myself. That he doesn’t know what he’s missing. Now.” He reaches for his discarded clothes and is at the Floo in what feels like a second.

“Good luck,” they say in unison. “We’ll be here if you need us,” adds Sirius.

He turns as he steps into the Floo, full of determination, and looks back at Remus and Sirius. Sirius has settled in behind Remus on the sofa. He wraps his arms around Remus and the last thing Harry sees as he’s whooshed away is how Remus seems to melt into Sirius.