coffeejunkii (coffeejunkii) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2007-09-30 11:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | author: coffeejunkii, kink: rimming, kink: threesome, remus/sirius, remus/sirius/harry |
Fic: Upon Waking , Part 1
Title: Upon Waking
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Remus/Sirius/Harry; Remus/Sirius; implied Snape/Draco
Kink(s): Threesome; Rimming
Length: ~20,000 words
Summary: A story about the blurring of uncrossable lines, told between tea and rain and the still moments after full moons.
Notes: This is obviously AU; it takes place a few years after Voldemort's defeat. Many thanks to my wonderful betas Rurounihime and Lusiology.
~*~*~
The paint chipped off easily from the old cup, gathering in small flakes on the wooden table and painting the top of Harry's thumbnail blue. He squinted in the half-light of dawn, tracking the path his finger made around the cup.
"You're up early."
Harry startled at Remus' unexpected presence. "Couldn't sleep. Besides, I could say the same thing to you."
Remus took a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water. "Sirius asked for something to drink. I think he's got a bit too used to me running around doing things for him."
Sirius had been sick with the flu, and even though he was feeling well again, he still liked to badger Remus into getting him this and that, claiming that doing magic exhausted him and might cause a relapse, and we wouldn't want that, would we?
The thought of Sirius pleading with Remus, who would roll his eyes but be indulgent nevertheless, filled Harry with warmth.
"The insomnia's been getting worse again, hasn't it?" Remus asked, concern tinging his voice.
Harry shrugged. "It comes and goes."
"I wish you'd reconsider Dreamless Sleep."
The cold from the tiled floor seeped into Harry's feet. He drew them up one by one, perching on the edge of the chair. "No," he replied firmly.
During the last stages of the war, Harry had relied on the potion to escape the fighting for a few precious hours, but the leaden feeling he always woke up with wasn't something he was keen to experience again. He much preferred to stay awake, using the quietness of the night to try out the brooms he'd been working on.
The chair next to Harry's screeched across the floor when Remus pulled it away from the table to sit down. "I don't like seeing you tired all the time."
Harry gave Remus a weary smile. "'m fine."
The disbelief on Remus' face made a reply unnecessary. He leaned forward, his knees bumping against Harry's thigh. "You always seemed to sleep well when we were with you."
Harry rested his cheek against his knees and looked at Remus, who steadily held his gaze. Memories surfaced of the time when everyone had decided it would be wise for Harry to change locations every few days. Remus and Sirius had come along, staying close to him at all times. Foregoing proper lodgings lest they be discovered, they'd spent many nights outside, huddled together under blankets in a comfortably entangled knot of arms and legs.
"Things are different now."
"Are they?" Remus didn't wait for an answer. "You need to stop wearing yourself so thin. It'll only work for so long and then—well. Bodies can take only so much strain."
Harry wanted to point out that the war had made it abundantly clear to him where his limits lay, and he wasn't close to them now. But Remus' haunted tone made Harry hold back; if there was anyone who knew about bodies and their breaking points, it was Remus.
"I can't ask that of you," Harry said instead.
"You're not asking, I'm offering. And I know Sirius has been worried about you, too, even if he'd never tell you." Remus' hand came to rest on Harry's shoulder.
Harry shifted on his chair. It felt like an intrusion into that space that was just for the two of them, for Remus and Sirius alone. He didn't belong there. They'd been more than welcoming when he'd first brought up the possibility of moving into their house, and he'd never felt out of place there, but he'd always made sure to give them space and time to be alone. It was one of the reasons why Harry had set up his work space in the shed out in the garden, and not in the house.
On the other hand, he missed the closeness they had all shared during their journeys across the country, the constant reminders in words and gestures that he wasn't alone and was cared for. Not that Remus and Sirius didn't let him know now, but there was a different degree of intensity to their reassurances, knowing that it was less likely that one of them wouldn't be there the next day.
He realised that he hadn't given Remus an answer yet, and suddenly felt very grateful for his patience.
"All right," Harry replied slowly. "Can't hurt, can it?"
Remus' fingers briefly tightened around Harry's shoulder before falling away. "Not at all."
They walked upstairs in silence, Harry trailing behind Remus.
"Moony! Finally. Did you Apparate to the closest spring to get me that water? You really shouldn't have—Harry." Sirius' easy smile melted into something much graver. "Did something happen?"
Harry stopped just across the threshold, looking down at the grainy wooden floor.
"Budge over, Harry's staying with us for the rest of the night. Or, well, early morning now, I suppose," Remus replied, his voice light, as if this happened all the time.
Harry glanced at the two men, who seemed to share a significant look before Sirius took the glass out of Remus' hands and drank down half its contents. He set it down on the nightstand, then peeled back the duvet. "In here with you two before I freeze to death and catch pneumonia."
With some hesitation, Harry climbed into bed. He settled on his back before it occurred to him that he might take up too much space. He turned onto his side, his back to Sirius. The mattress dipped when Remus slid in next to him.
"Okay?" he asked softly.
Harry nodded.
"Less talking, more sleeping," Sirius admonished. Unceremoniously, he flung an arm around Harry's waist and settled against him.
Harry tensed for the briefest of moments, then reminded himself that this was Sirius, one of the few people he trusted completely. His next breath was deeper, his body following the exhalation, curving in on itself to come into a more comfortable alignment with the one behind him.
Remus moved closer as well. His hand flowed over Harry's side, from his nape down to his waist where it stayed next to Sirius' arm. The warmth emanating from the two bodies next to Harry made his limbs feel heavy in a way that had escaped him for a while now. Remus' lips curved up into a smile, obviously pleased with what he was witnessing. The image remained imprinted on Harry's drooping eyelids, carrying him over into sleep.
~*~*~
They settled into a routine after that. Harry would toss and turn in his own bed for a few hours before giving up and walking across the hall. If the door to Sirius' and Remus' bedroom was cracked open, he knew he was welcome to join them; if it was closed, he spent the rest of the night in his shed or out on a broom.
Most nights, Harry found the door open. He tried to return the favour by spending a few hours working on his brooms every day, usually starting just before Remus returned from tutoring and ending in time for dinner. Having walked in on Remus and Sirius more than a few times, he knew that they still liked to take every chance they got to shag each other rotten, a fact that Harry found endearing most of the time, aside from those rare moments in which it woke a fierce longing for similar companionship. It had been too long since Harry had shared something like it with someone, but he didn't like to dwell on that.
Another thing he didn't like to dwell on either were those mornings when he woke up hard and in desperate need of a wank. Considering that he usually found himself pressed up against or curled around either Remus or Sirius, he considered it a minor miracle that so far he'd managed to sneak off to shower without being caught.
And he absolutely refused to think about how the hands and tongues he imagined roaming over his body as he wanked were increasingly attached to the faces of the two men he shared a bed with.
~*~*~
On the day before the full moon, Draco delivered Wolfsbane potion with an attached note from Snape, as he did every month. Harry had ceased to try to understand why Snape couldn't or wouldn't come by himself or send the potion via owl, and he didn't really care because it meant that he'd see Draco.
Harry was sorting through a large bunch of hazel twigs for the new broom Puddlemere's Seeker had ordered when Draco pushed open the door to the shed. He was carrying two steaming mugs.
"Remus thought you might like some tea," Draco said by way of a greeting.
Harry smiled. "He'd be right about that." He took the mug from Draco and sat down on the stool next to his workbench, pushing another one towards Draco.
With a nod of silent thanks, Draco sat down as well.
"So, things are well with the old bat?"
Draco sipped his tea before answering. "Severus is doing well, thanks for asking. I assume your dogfather and the werewolf are fine, too?"
Harry grinned. "Splendid, both of them. What about you? Business going well?"
"We can't complain. Severus finally agreed to let me handle the books in their entirety and to take care of most of the personal deliveries." A shadow fell across Draco's face. "His leg has been bothering him a great deal lately. Not that he'd tell me, but I notice how heavily he leans on his cane."
Harry briefly rested his hand on Draco's arm. He would never fully grasp why or how Draco had ended up with Snape, but he certainly knew what it was like to worry about a loved one's health. After all, he went through it with Remus every month.
"I'm sure he appreciates all your help, even if he can't bring himself to say that." He lifted his mug to his lips.
Draco's eyes hardened for a moment. "Severus might not verbalise his every thought and feeling, but rest assured he knows how to tell me in other ways."
"Yes, I'm just sure he does," Harry replied, refusing to break away from Draco's gaze.
He realised they were skittering close to yet another argument about the nature of Draco's relationship with Snape, but Harry couldn't help it.
Draco drank more of his tea. His finger traced the rim of the cup, his eyes following the movement. "Not today, Potter, all right?" A crease of worry showed between his eyebrows.
"Okay," Harry agreed softly.
Draco squared his shoulders and looked up at him again. "Any news with you? You seem more alert than the last time I saw you."
"Oh. Um." Harry wasn't surprised that Draco saw a change in him—after all, he'd got more sleep in the last three weeks than he'd had in the past three months, probably. "I've found something that helps with the insomnia."
"You did? That's fantastic!" Draco's face lit up.
"Yeah." Harry downed the last bit of tea and set the mug aside. "I'm sleeping with Remus and Sirius most nights now and it really helps."
Draco cocked an eyebrow. A slow grin spread across his face.
Heat crept into Harry's cheeks. "Not like that! God. I meant that they let me sleep in their bed with them, and...well, it probably sounds strange to you, but it helps me to calm down so I can actually fall asleep."
Draco grinned even more broadly. "Uhuh."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I am not. Shagging. Remus and Sirius."
"But you'd want to?"
"WHAT? NO!" Harry flushed even more.
Draco broke out in a fit of laughter. "Okay, okay. I believe you. For now."
Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest.
Draco sobered and went on to say, "Really, I'm glad, Harry. It's good to see you more...alive again."
"Thank you. It feels good."
Draco nodded.
"If Snape ever lets you out of that quasi-dungeon you two call a potions lab, you should come flying with me. I'm just about done with the brooms for the Magpies Chasers and they could use some more tweaking."
"I'll think about it." Draco paused. "After all, Chaser was never quite my position."
"You can play Seeker games on Chaser brooms as well and you know it," Harry challenged.
Draco slid off his stool. "Well, in that case, I'll owl you."
Harry stood up as well.
"For now, I should head back. I don't like leaving Severus to himself for too long at the moment. Last week, he—" Draco's breath hitched. "Never mind."
Harry's hand ghosted over Draco's back as he held open the door for him. "Send me that owl, yes?"
Draco nodded and left. Harry watched him cross the garden, colourful leaves swirling around his feet.
~*~*~
The next night Harry stood at the window in his bedroom, watching as Padfoot and Moony set out across the garden and the fields beyond, following the excited circles they ran around each other, the nudging and pouncing until they blended into the surrounding darkness.
As always, Harry wished he could run with them.
~*~*~
"Sirius?" Remus' voice floated into the kitchen as Harry closed the back door behind himself.
"No, it's me. Um, Harry, that is." He toed off his trainers, pausing for a moment when he saw two broken tea cups on the floor.
"Oh, hello. Finished for the day?" Remus called out.
After dropping his cloak on the back of a kitchen chair, Harry made his way through the open archway into the living room, finding Remus lying down on the sofa. "Yeah. Finally finished that broom for Puddlemere's Seeker. Sirius isn't home?"
"Out on business." Remus sounded amused. He tucked the blanket that covered his legs closer around himself and slid the book he'd been reading onto the coffee table.
Harry nodded, and sat down on the very edge of the sofa, bracing himself on the back for balance. Remus shifted to make room for Harry, who gratefully scooted closer. His hand dropped down to Remus' side.
"What happened with those tea cups?"
"Oh, those." Remus waved dismissively. "They're testimony to the fact that trying to brew tea from one room over isn't really a good idea."
"But why would you..." Harry took a closer look at Remus, finding his skin paler than usual after a full moon and noting how heavily he lay back against those pillows. "You couldn't get up?" he whispered, his hand unconsciously stroking over Remus' side.
"I could have, but I didn't want to," Remus replied firmly. "I'm afraid this transformation hit a bit harder than usual."
"Why? Was there something wrong with the Wolfsbane?"
Remus shook his head. "No, it was first-rate, as always. It's just something that happens from time to time." He must have seen Harry's worried look because he added, "It's nothing to be concerned about."
Harry didn't find that comforting at all. It was too strong a reminder of just how much Remus had to endure every month. His free hand wandered up Remus' arm, across his shoulder and down his chest, as if he needed to make sure that everything was where it was supposed to be. A little left of Remus' heart, Harry's exploration halted and he pressed his palm down against the worn cotton.
"Why isn't Sirius here with you?" There was bitterness in his voice.
Remus' fingers closed over Harry's hand. "Because he knows that I don't mind a few hours to myself."
Harry looked down at their entwined hands, the lines on Remus' skin so much deeper than on his own. "You couldn't even get yourself a cup of tea."
With a firm squeeze around Harry's fingers, Remus called his gaze back up to meet his eyes. "Sirius has been through this with me many times. He never leaves my side during the hours just after the moon sets, when everything is still very...dark. Don't think he doesn't care, or underestimates the consequences of the transformation. He knows very well."
Harry's shoulders slumped. He was torn between wanting to believe Remus and giving in to the simmering annoyance at Sirius. The rational side of Harry's brain informed him that there wasn't anyone who'd lived through the full moon with Remus more often than Sirius, and that he and Remus consequently knew what the other needed during that time, but this knowledge didn't quell the protectiveness rising up in Harry.
"What's going through your mind?" Remus inquired gently.
"It's—just things." Harry didn't want to burden Remus with his confused thoughts. "Would you still like that cup of tea?"
Remus smiled warmly. "That would be lovely, thank you. And I wouldn't mind your company if you don't have other plans."
Relieved over being able to do something for Remus, Harry rose from the sofa. "None at all."
~*~*~
"Did you know that Remus was really sick after the moon?" Harry asked, tying four twigs together in a tight bundle and snipping off their ends.
Sirius looked up from polishing the light on his motorbike. "What makes you think that?"
Harry picked up another quartet of twigs. "Because I spent the afternoon with him on Tuesday and he could barely move. His joints were bothering him a lot, I think."
For a minute the only sound in the shed was the rain drumming on the roof. Sirius wiped the polishing cloth over the lamp a few more times until it shone to his satisfaction, then straightened up and walked over to where Harry was working.
"They were, yes. I swung by Snape's on the way home that day to pick up some more of that ointment Draco's been working on. It's getting better and better by the batch."
Harry trimmed the twigs and tied the two bunches of four together. "Draco's very dedicated to his work."
"That he is." Sirius leaned against the workbench, trying to catch Harry's gaze. "Why are you bringing this up?"
Setting down the pruning shears, Harry turned to Sirius. "Because...because I don't understand why you weren't there with—for Remus on Tuesday. He—"
"Did you ask him about this?"
"Yeah. He said he was fine on his own for a few hours, but you know how Remus is, he doesn't like to ask for help and—"
Sirius straightened up to his full height. "And you think I should have stayed regardless of what he said?"
Harry twirled a twig between his hands. "Well. Yes."
Sirius' left hand came up to his face and rubbed across his eyes. "I'm just going to ignore for a moment that you were implying I abandoned Moony when he needed me." He took a sharp breath. "Look, Harry, this isn't something we usually talk about—Remus and I, that is—but we try to live the day after the full moon just like any other day. I do what I'd normally do and Remus has a bit of an extended nap in the afternoon."
Harry nodded, listening.
"Of course I noticed that Remus wasn't doing so well this time around, but it was still important to both of us to stick to our usual routine. Because we can't let this—" He paused. "We live with it, and we deal with it, but we don't let it take over the time we have together."
Harry swallowed. Everything Sirius had said rang true to him, but it couldn't keep the surge of protectiveness he felt for Remus at bay. "But living with it doesn't mean ignoring it."
"We aren't ignoring it. Harry, look—" Sirius took him by his shoulders. "You love Remus, too. It would be strange if you weren't worried about him. But don't think that I wouldn't do anything—and I mean anything—for him."
Harry searched Sirius' eyes and found the same need to care for and protect there. He nodded slowly.
Sirius pulled him into a tight hug, which Harry responded to with equal force, the tips of his fingers digging into Sirius' back.
"Thanks for looking out for Moony," Sirius mumbled into Harry's hair. The words were short and clipped.
"Anytime."
"Come to bed tonight, all right?"
The tight hold around Harry loosened a little and he felt the brush of fingertips across his nape. "I will."
~*~*~
While Harry slept through most nights, there were still some when he would wake up and lie awake for a while. He cherished those moments because they allowed him to study Remus and Sirius as they were sleeping, unguarded and unaware that he was looking at them.
When he lay between them, he'd turn slowly from one to the other, taking note of the tiny scar on the left side of Sirius' jaw (a leftover from a stray curse during the war) or the fact that Remus' right eyebrow was a fraction shorter than the other (a potions incident during his Sixth Year). But what he liked best was lying on one side of the bed, with the two of them entangled in each other. He'd never woken up and seen them not touch in some way, even if it was just a foot pressed against a calf or a carelessly flung arm across a shoulder, or hip, or arse.
Seeing them together like this filled him with deep contentment, and he invariably moved closer until he was part of that jumble of limbs, tied into the bond that thrummed between them.
~*~*~
"So she came back the next day and insisted on receiving the potion even though she was still seven Sickles short. And Severus agreed to it. And then she dared to send us a Howler complaining about the shoddy quality! I hate that cow." Draco paused and took a deep breath, no doubt in preparation for more ranting.
Harry was highly amused. There were two pink flecks on Draco's cheeks, and a few obstinate strands of hair kept falling into his eyes. One of Draco's hands shot up to tuck them behind his ear. The sleeve of his jumper slid down a bit, revealing a thick strip of reddened skin that looked severely chafed.
"It gets better. We owled her back, of course and..."
The words floated past Harry, all his attention focused on Draco's wrist. His own hand twitched; he'd reached out before realising what he was doing. "What—what happened?"
"Pardon?" Draco looked confused, his eyes flicking to Harry's fingers, which hovered to the left of his face.
Harry briefly touched Draco's wrist, then withdrew his hand. "What happened there?" he asked again, softly.
Draco studied the exposed skin for a moment before tugging the sleeve of his jumper over it. He looked squarely at Harry. "Severus tied me up last night and things got a little too...enthusiastic."
Harry blinked. "Enthusiastic?" he echoed.
"Yes. I can elaborate, but you were never really keen on hearing those kinds of details before."
Harry held up a hand. "And I'm still not."
Draco nodded and resumed his tale, but Harry's thoughts drifted. It would take quite a bit of force to cause the kind of chafing visible on Draco's wrists. Where else had that force come to bear on Draco's body? Were there other marks, hidden away under that expensive jumper and trousers? Harry felt his stomach twist. These weren't acts that people did to each other when they cared for each other, like Draco always claimed.
"Is he hurting you?" Harry blurted out.
"Wha—who? You mean Severus?" Draco frowned.
"Yeah."
"What on earth makes you think that?"
Harry pointedly looked at Draco's wrists.
"Merlin, Harry, have you never—well, I suppose not. No, Severus isn't hurting me. Not unless I ask him to, and even then, it's not so much that he hurts me, but..." Draco trailed off. "Severus and I have a very clear understanding of where our personal limits are in terms of...these matters. He would never do anything to me that I didn't ask for or didn't agree to."
The entire time Draco spoke, he held Harry's gaze, an earnest look in his eyes. It only contributed to Harry's unease, but at last he could be sure that Draco was telling him the truth. No matter how many times Draco tried to explain his relationship with Snape, it was difficult for Harry to grasp how it could be born out of care, or maybe even out of love. By piecing together tidbits of Draco's sometimes too-frank accounts of his exploits with Snape, Harry had gathered that they never shared a bed unless they were intimate, or how there was little affection between them outside of the bedroom. It all seemed so cold to Harry, so undesirable.
He cleared his throat, realising he'd never answered Draco. "Okay. I just—just had to make sure."
A hint of a grateful smile appear on Draco's face. "Of course."
"Why didn't you heal your wrists?"
Draco hesitated, his gaze dropping away, seemingly fixing on the row of unfinished brooms on one side of the shed. When he spoke, his voice was soft, barely audible. "Because they help me to remember what happened between me and Severus that night."
Draco seemed lost in thought. Not wanting to disturb him, Harry busied himself with putting away a few of the tools he'd been working with.
"But—" Harry began after a while. "But don't they bother you? I've had a few injuries like that and they weren't pleasant."
Draco flinched at the word "injury." "The skin's a bit itchy, but—"
"I've a salve that might help. Working with so much wood, I always seem to nick myself and...and I keep it around for that." When Draco didn't respond, Harry added, "Please. It's got to do more than just itch."
Draco's head bobbed in a single nod.
Harry rummaged through the box on the far side of the workbench until he found the tin holding the salve. He dragged a stool over to where Draco sat. "All right."
He unscrewed the lid and placed the tin where he could easily reach it before gently taking hold of Draco's arm and pushing his sleeve up to his elbow. With the long fringe falling into Draco's face, Harry could only make out his lips.
"You'll tell me if I put on too much pressure, okay?" Harry asked.
Another nod.
Harry scooped some salve out of the tin and slowly spread it over the reddened skin, lightly holding on to Draco's arm. He felt the play of muscles in reaction to his touches and allowed it to guide him in how firmly he could press down. Taking care to include areas beyond the immediately affected stripe, his fingers wandered to the edge of Draco's palm and back up his arm.
"Okay, all done with this one," Harry murmured.
He'd been working diligently on the other wrist when Draco's voice cut through the silence. "So when your dogfather and the werewolf happen to bruise themselves during one of their escapades, is this what happens? Some sort of communal salve-application?" The teasing tone didn't mask the slight tremble in Draco's voice.
Harry continued as if he hadn't noticed it, or the way Draco's chest rose and fell a little too rapidly. "Um, sometimes. Remus has problems with his joints, and Sirius is good about making sure that there's always some of your ointment around." Harry had never really given much thought to this. "After the moon, whoever's around helps Remus apply it. 's not a big deal."
"Right. Of course not."
Harry frowned, but didn't reply, concentrating on finishing up with the salve. "There." He dropped Draco's arm.
"Thank you. Feels wonderful," Draco whispered while sliding down his sleeves once more. He stood up and reached for his cloak, which sank around his shoulders in an elegant swirl. "I should go."
Harry thought that was rather sudden. Draco usually stayed for an hour or longer, and he hadn't been there for more than twenty minutes. "Everything all right?"
"Fine." Draco's eyes were unreadable. "I'll see you next month."
"Not if we finally try out those brooms first."
The corners of Draco's lips quirked. "We'll see about that."
With those words, he slipped out of the shed. Harry stayed behind and straightened up some more, wondering about Draco's sudden change in demeanour. When everything was in its place, he crossed the garden, long shadows falling across the path that was barely visible in the fading light.
Remus was stirring a big pot of something that smelled heavenly when Harry entered the kitchen. After kicking off his shoes, he made a beeline towards the stove, only to be stopped by Remus' outstretched hand.
"Dinner isn't for another half an hour."
"But—"
"You're like Sirius, always trying to spoil your appetite. You can set the table to make time pass more quickly."
"You really need to watch yourself because you're starting to sound an awful lot like Molly," Harry countered, ducking the tea towel Remus threw at him.
"I'm not going to dignify that comparison with a response. Even if Molly is a lovely woman."
Remus went back to stirring, and Harry levitated plates, glasses, and cutlery to the table.
"Draco seemed rather preoccupied on his way to the Floo," Remus remarked casually.
"Did he?" Harry directed the plates to their usual places, followed by forks and knives.
"Hmmm."
As Harry gathered three napkins from a drawer, he contemplated whether or not to tell Remus about what had happened between him and Draco in the shed, or if that violated some sort of unspoken agreement. Maybe some sort of middle ground would be the best solution because he did want to talk to Remus about some of the things he'd learned.
Napkins neatly folded next to the plates, Harry grabbed a sponge off the sink and moved to stand next to Remus, pretending to wipe away a few splatters of yellow liquid that were congealing on the worktop. Leek and Potato for dinner, then, Harry thought.
"Remus," he began.
"Yes?"
"Have you—have you and Sirius ever tied each other up? During, um, sex, I mean?" Harry rubbed at the stain.
A lid clanked against the pot. "This could probably do with a warming charm for now." Remus gently took the sponge out of Harry's hands. "Why don't we sit down, hmm?"
Harry wiped his soapy hands on his jeans and followed Remus to the table. "You don't have to tell me. I was just curious."
"I don't mind telling you. Sit down."
Harry sat and immediately started fiddling with one of the napkins until Remus' fingers closed over his hand. He looked up and found Remus' warm gaze on him.
"To answer your question, yes, Sirius and I have used restraints before. In fact, it's something we do quite often. Is there any particular reason why you're asking?"
Harry swallowed. "It came up today. With Draco."
"Ahh."
"Why do you do it?"
"I gather from that question that you've never tried it yourself? I thought that maybe you and—"
Harry quickly shook his head. There was that feeling again, of not being part of something that seemed normal or something he should probably want. "I can't really see how—it's not something I'd want, or want to do to someone."
"Too many bad memories?" Remus asked softly.
Harry couldn't bear to look at Remus. "Yeah."
Remus moved his chair closer. "I think it's perfectly reasonable that someone with your...past might not want to bring anything that reminds you of it into a situation that should be free of fear or anxiety."
The words washed over Harry, calming him, and he was grateful for Remus' patience and understanding.
"But for someone who hasn't had those experiences, it can be an incredibly powerful moment to hand over control or to be given control like that. You agree to trust that person, to give yourself over, or you promise not to exploit the trust given to you."
Harry nodded. It wasn't too difficult to imagine this exchange of trust between Remus and Sirius, but between Snape and Draco? He found it hard to believe anyone could trust Snape to such a degree.
"I see a frown there," Remus observed.
Harry looked up. "I was just thinking about—" He broke off, still uncertain if he was somehow betraying Draco's trust.
"About Severus and Draco?"
"Yeah. I suppose that was rather obvious, huh?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"I just—" Harry shifted restlessly. "I just don't understand what Draco sees in him, I guess. And why he lets Snape treat him the way he does."
"In what way?"
Harry pondered whether to tell Remus about Draco's wrists, but then decided it was too private a thing to divulge. "In ways I wouldn't want to be treated by someone who claims to—to care for me a great deal."
Remus leaned back in his chair for a moment, then straightened up again, bracing his elbows on the table. "Perhaps there are sides to Severus you don't know, that only Draco sees. And there are probably events—experiences in the past the two of them share that they might not be able to share with anyone else."
"But that doesn't explain why he's so...so cold to Draco all the damn time. I think—" Harry paused. "I'm fairly sure things aren't much different when they are alone."
Remus clasped his hands and leaned forward. "I understand how this is all very confusing, and I have to admit that I wouldn't particularly care for such a relationship myself, but you have to remember that we're only looking at this from the outside. You can't know what it means to Draco and Severus. They might look at me and Sirius and find what we have very strange, too."
Harry remembered Draco's question about the communal salve application from earlier and found himself nodding slowly. "Yeah, maybe."
"Has Draco ever indicated to you that he's unhappy with Severus?"
Harry searched his memory. "No, not really."
"I thought so."
They both fell silent, caught up in their thoughts, until Sirius sauntered into the kitchen. "Couldn't help overhearing a bit of what you two were discussing just now," he said on his way to the fridge.
"That's really not very polite, Padfoot," Remus admonished.
Sirius shrugged and fished a butterbeer from the top shelf. He drank deeply from the bottle before fixing Remus with a leering gaze. "You should see him, Harry. Spread out on the bed, struggling and yet willing to take—"
"Sirius," Remus cut in sharply. "I think that's quite enough."
Harry sat very still, the image of Remus writhing against white sheets burning in his mind.
"Thought I'd offer Harry a slightly more vivid perspective, that's all."
Cheeks heating up, Harry stood up hastily. "I, huh, am going to wash my hands. For dinner."
Trying to look at neither Remus nor Sirius, he bounded out of the kitchen and up the stairs into the bathroom. He leaned against the door, catching his breath, still not able to banish that image of Remus. He could see the arch of Remus' back, Sirius climbing up his body and leaning down for a kiss...
Harry's cock throbbed, and he pressed the heel of his hand against it. No, no, no, he chanted to himself, which didn't make any difference whatsoever. He took a few deep breaths, hoping that he might calm down, to no avail. There was no way he could go down to dinner in such a state.
With a growl of frustration, he flipped open the button of his jeans and yanked down the zipper. He spit into his hand before reaching for his cock, pulling with rough strokes. The tell-tale tightening all over his body set in nearly immediately, and he spilled over his fingers moments later.
As the euphoria ebbed away, Harry's earlier confusion came back with full force. He slid down the door and leaned back against it, wondering what he should do now.
~*~*~
"Can't sleep?"
Remus' breathed question broke against Harry's nape as he settled into bed.
"Heard you get up," Harry replied, yawning. He wondered what time it was. His body told him he'd been asleep for a few hours already, but there was no hint of dawn yet.
"We need to do something about those floorboards."
Harry tucked himself closer to Remus. "They usually don't bother me. No idea why I woke up."
Remus' arm came around him, which Harry took as a sign of going back to sleep. But the fingers on his back kept moving, light scratches over one patch of skin. The slow movements held the promise of more half-whispered conversation.
~*~*~
The following Saturday began with a chill in the air and grey light filtering through the curtains. Not quite ready to face an overcast, possibly rainy day, Harry burrowed deeper under the covers, content to spend more time ensconced in the warmth radiating off the two bodies on either side of him.
He'd been almost lulled back to sleep when a hand briefly touched his shoulder. Blinking sleepily up at Sirius, Harry could make out a finger pressed against lips, accompanied by a quiet "shh."
Sirius leaned over Harry, one hand braced on the mattress between his and Remus' body, and whispered, "Moony."
Remus stirred but remained asleep.
"Moony," Sirius repeated more loudly, nuzzling against his neck. "Time to get up."
This time, Remus' eyes opened slowly. A frown spread between his brows, but it melted away quickly, replaced by a mixture of delight and contentment, almost as if he hadn't seen Sirius for a long time or couldn't quite believe who he was looking at. Before Remus had the chance to say anything, Sirius kissed him. Remus' eyes closed, and his hand found its way into Sirius' hair. He smiled as their kiss deepened.
Harry watched, a painful tightening spreading from his chest downwards. Gratitude tingled through him; he'd been invited to share this moment, to see the adoration and desire that flowed between Remus and Sirius. Yet, he wasn't a part of this (not yet, a treacherous voice whispered in the back of his mind) and that it had been a long time since he'd kissed someone in a way that involved handing over a part of himself.
He untangled a hand from the sheets and ran it up Sirius' back, needing contact. Muscles rippled minutely under his palm, not quite a shudder, but a definite acknowledgment of his touch.
Sirius pulled back from the kiss. "Good morning."
Remus smiled, but remained quiet. His hand moved around to Sirius' face, fingertips lingering against his cheek for a moment.
"I'll make breakfast," Sirius whispered.
He moved back further, his weight lifting off Harry. Pausing, he gave Harry a quizzical look.
Harry had just opened his mouth to ask if anything was the matter when he felt Sirius' lips on his, hesitant at first, then pressing down more fully when Harry didn't turn away, or give other signs that this wasn't welcome. Apparently Harry's body had already come to a decision while his mind remained frozen. The kiss remained brief, but at the same time felt too intimate to simply be a different way of saying good morning.
Sirius had the audacity to wink at what had to be a very dumbfounded expression on Harry's face before he slipped out of bed, stretched, and walked out into the hall. Only when the water came on in the bathroom did Harry shake himself out of the daze he'd fallen into.
"Welcome to the strange yet tempting world of being kissed by Sirius Black," Remus said softly.
Harry turned toward him, wanting to say something but somehow not finding the words.
"That has never really changed for me, not when Sirius really puts his mind to it."
"Like—like just now?" Harry asked, voice still scratchy with sleep.
Remus laughed. "Yes, that was a particularly good example."
Harry wanted to say that that had been rather obvious, but remained silent.
"I should go and make sure Padfoot doesn't use up all the hot water."
"Okay." Maybe if he was alone, he might be able to make some sense of all of this, Harry thought.
Remus didn't make any efforts to get up, but rather studied Harry intently. When he bent down Harry was already expecting the kiss, and he leaned into it. As before with Sirius, their lips only touched together briefly, but there was nothing casual about it.
His focus remained on the door even after Remus had disappeared through it. The unchanging view stood in stark contrast to the jumble of Harry's thoughts, which wouldn't settle down enough for him to pick through them. He wanted to understand what had happened between the three of them, and yet he didn't, anxious about the insights he might gain. Were those kisses an invitation to enter deeper into Remus' and Sirius' relationship? Or would they become part of their sleeping arrangements, which, while quite intimate, still upheld some sort of line between affection and desire, however murky said line might have already become.
Unwilling to explore this in more depth, Harry pushed away the duvet. Tugging yesterday's jumper over his head, he made his way down the stairs.
~*~*~
Harry was eating a late lunch alone in the kitchen, reading over Hermione's latest owl, when the fireplace blazed to life.
"Anybody home?"
Harry recognised the voice instantly, and his stomach lurched a little. "Yes, hang on." He crossed the kitchen in quick strides and knelt down on the pillow in front of the green flames. "Evan."
"It's good to see you again," Evan replied warmly. "How are things? Business must be going well."
"Can't complain. Everything's fine." Harry willed his hands to stay still and not rub along his thighs. No reason to feel nervous. They'd parted amicably, after all, and the few times they'd seen each other since had been relatively easygoing.
"I'm glad to hear that. Listen, first match of the season's coming up on the twenty-seventh and I wanted to ask if you'd like to come down here that day. All of us received a pair of free tickets."
The twenty-seventh would be the day after the full moon. "I...I'm not sure I could make it that day," Harry said slowly. Remus would chide him for this, especially because Sirius would be around. But it was important to Harry to be there for Remus after the transformation.
Evan's face fell. "Oh. Well, how about I owl those tickets to you, and you can think about it. Maybe there's someone you'd like to bring along..."
"There's no one," Harry replied without thinking. The flicker of hope in Evan's eyes didn't escape him. "I mean, um. Thanks."
"You're welcome. It would be really nice to see you again."
Harry heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Remus standing in the doorway. He gave him a brief nod, and Remus stepped into the kitchen. Harry turned back to the fire. "Uhh, yeah, it would be. Maybe some other time? If I really can't make it, that is," he added hastily.
"I'd love that."
Harry smiled uneasily. "Good luck with practice and everything."
"Thank you. Bye, Harry."
Evan's head disappeared and the fireplace went cold. Harry lingered for a few more moments, listening to the sounds of Remus opening and closing cabinet doors.
"Would you like a cup of tea as well?" Remus asked, looking over his shoulder.
Pushing himself to his feet, Harry nodded. He looked at the remaining bits of his sandwich, but didn't feel hungry anymore. Sitting back down at the table, he watched Remus make tea, which was a very precise undertaking. Harry had observed it many times before and its familiarity was comforting.
"He asked you out?" Remus asked as he sat down, pushing one cup toward Harry.
Steam curled in front of Harry's face, warm puffs against his skin. "In a roundabout way. Asked me to come to their first match."
"Ah. But you turned him down?"
"I said I'd think about it."
Remus blew on his tea. "In other words, you don't want to go."
Sometimes it was annoying that Remus knew him so well. "Yeah. I'll give the tickets to Ron. He'll be thrilled to go."
After two long sips, Remus said thoughtfully, "And you wouldn't enjoy seeing that match? Forget about Evan. Appreciate the gift, go with Ron, enjoy yourself."
Harry had to concede that Remus had a point—he would enjoy that. "It's the day after the full moon."
"So?"
"I—" Harry drew in a breath. "I'd rather be here. With you and Sirius." He could see Remus getting ready for a lecture on how it was unnecessary for Harry to stay home that day, so he quickly added, "I know you'd rather I go out and—but look, this is about what I'd most like to do, isn't it? And I want to be here that day."
Remus' gaze steadily remained with Harry the whole time, even after he'd finished speaking, studying him as if there were more he needed to hear, to know. Finally, he said, "All right. But I wish you'd go out more often."
The unspoken "so that you can meet someone" was perfectly clear. Harry's hand folded around his cup and he lifted it to his mouth, drinking down half its contents. The tea was perfect, as it always was when Remus brewed it. "I've told you before that I'm quite happy with how my life is right now. And yes, I did enjoy those four months with Evan, but I don't want to be with someone who's always away, always needs to attend this party and that press conference. It's—" too unsettled, his mind supplied. "If I'd wanted that, I might have gone into Quidditch myself."
Remus drained the last of his tea. "I only want you to be happy."
Harry leaned towards him, his fingers almost touching Remus' wrist. "But I am happy here." After a moment's hesitation, he added, very quietly, "You and Sirius make me happy."
Something changed in Remus' expression. He looked startled, perhaps. As if he hadn't expected Harry to say this. He was on the brink of speaking when the back door opened and Sirius rushed through it.
"Bloody rain! Forecast's completely unreliable. Should've added a repellent charm to—" Sirius paused, looking back and forth between Remus and Harry. "Am I interrupting something?"
"We were talking about—Evan. He Firecalled," Harry offered.
Sirius grinned. "Did he now?" He hung his wet jacket on a peg by the door and drew out his wand, which was dripping with water.
"Yes, but Harry did a fine job of letting Evan see that he's not interested," Remus observed.
Harry muttered a sarcastic "thanks" under his breath while Sirius shook his head. "Turning down fit blokes who lie at your feet. Don't know what's wrong with you."
"I already explained all of that to Remus, so he can fill you in." There was more sulk in his voice than his feelings on the matter warranted, but Sirius wouldn't stop nettling him otherwise.
Sirius' attention had shifted to his wand, however. It only produced feeble sparks when swished. "Merlin's balls, that's never happened before."
Remus flicked his wand in Sirius' direction, and Harry watched the wood lighten as it dried.
"Thanks, Moony." Sirius pointed the wand at himself in a long sweep, draining his soaked clothes of all the water they held. A large puddle formed around his feet, which Harry banished with a twist of his hand.
"Show-off," Sirius teased.
"It comes in handy. In situations when, oh, let's see...your wand doesn't work properly," Harry retorted.
Remus laughed.
"And you!" Sirius strode over to Remus. "Turning against me. Shame on you." His hand curled around Remus' nape. Remus' head tilted to let their mouths meet.
Harry suddenly found the dregs of tea swirling in his cup utterly fascinating. If the sounds coming from his right were any indication, Remus was being kissed very thoroughly, and Harry wondered if he should maybe leave the room, but then the distracting noises ended, supplanted by Sirius' hushed voice.
"Had a good day, Moony?"
"As good as marking children's essays can be," Remus replied in that same quiet tone.
"And what about you?" Sirius turned towards Harry, his arm coming to rest on the back of the chair.
"Um, worked on my brooms for a bit," Harry managed. Sirius was really quite close to him, clear grey eyes and a bodily attentiveness that made him feel flushed.
"Hmmm."
Then Sirius moved even closer, and Harry barely had time to turn his head away. Lips grazed his jaw with a wet slide. Harry froze, staring at the floor.
"Sorry," Sirius whispered, clearly confused. He moved away and stood up.
Harry glanced at Remus, willing him to speak. Wouldn't he have something to say about this? Sirius trying to kiss Harry? It was one thing to do it when they were all half-asleep, and another during the day, between tea and rain and uncrossable lines.
But Remus only looked back at Harry without any sign of being upset about the fact that the man he shared his life with had tried to kiss someone else.
"I—" Harry tried, realising it was up to him to speak. "I don't want to come between you." His voice shook.
Such a simple sentence, but to Harry it meant so many things. That the kiss had not been unwelcome; the contrary, rather. That he'd thought about this, wanted this, but that he respected what Remus and Sirius had together and would never try to intrude. It was also a plea to stop tempting him with affection that might appear perfectly harmless to them, but threw Harry into utter confusion.
Remus and Sirius exchanged what could only be called a significant look, after which Remus addressed Harry. "You won't. You're already a part of us."
A few seconds ticked by during which Harry couldn't move. Frustration tore through him because he didn't understand, or maybe didn't let himself believe that he understood Remus correctly. A part of us. On the one hand, it seemed so perfectly clear. Of course he was part of them—what else could he be when he lay curled up between them at night, his hand against Remus' chest and his back against Sirius' warmth? But then there were moments—fleeing their bedroom to hide his arousal, skittering back around corners because Remus and Sirius looked like they were just about to shag on the sofa—that sharply said you are one and we are us.
Sirius' arm lightly touched his shoulder, bringing Harry back to the here and now. He was squatting in front of Harry's chair, a deep frown creasing his forehead. "All right?" he asked.
Harry didn't know how to answer that question.
"Moony's right, you know," Sirius tried again.
Harry swallowed and managed to nod.
Sirius' hand fell down to Harry's hip. He straightened his back, face once again only an inch away. His nose nudged Harry's, and before Harry could even think about reacting, his head was tilting and his eyes were closing and they were kissing.
Their lips moved slowly against each other, almost hesitantly. Sirius' thumb kneaded circles over Harry's hip and his other hand pressed against his lower back, making Harry feel as if he could let himself fall and Sirius would catch him. The certainty of this tingled all the way down to his toes.
When Sirius pulled away, Harry's eyes opened to find Remus leaning over the table, short, shallow breaths flowing from his half-open mouth. Want coursed through Harry. Sirius' fingers slipped away as Harry reached for Remus, folding both arms around his shoulders. A tremble shuddered through him as a tongue swept into his mouth, unexpected yet welcome. Unlike the careful exploration with Sirius, Remus asked—demanded—and Harry yielded, pressing himself as close as the table between them allowed. What he wanted was to crawl into Remus' lap, bear down, and—
Harry drew back abruptly, needing to stop the flow of thoughts before they turned into actions. He and Remus looked at each other, both of them out of breath, and Harry instantly knew that Remus wanted him.
Harry stumbled backwards, grasping the chair behind him in the last moment before it could topple over. "I—I need to—to work some more. The brooms. Um. See you at dinner."
Sirius nodded absent-absentmindedly, and continued to stare at the now empty spot where Harry and Remus had kissed before.
As Harry slipped out the back door, he glanced back to see Remus pressing Sirius down on the table, lips attached to his neck while Sirius' hand pushed up Remus' jumper.
The door rattled in its frame when Harry shut it with too much force. He leaned against it, looking out into the rain. God. What he wouldn't give for a hard shag right about now. His head fell back. If it weren't coming down in buckets, he'd go flying now, but since he couldn't he'd settle for a long wank. Yes.
Harry barely noticed the rain pelting down on him as he ran across the garden.
~*~*~
Later that night, Harry chose to sleep in his room rather than joining Remus and Sirius. It was strange to be in a bed all by himself; he missed hearing the rhythm of sleep-filled breaths and the warmth of two bodies beside him. Even with an extra blanket over his duvet the sheets didn't provide enough protection against the night chill.
The next morning, neither Remus nor Sirius remarked on Harry's absence from their bed. But when Remus drew Harry to himself for a moment before Flooing away for tutoring and Padfoot turned up in the shed to doze at Harry's feet all afternoon, he realised that they were worried.
Harry excused himself rather early that evening and, after a brief moment of hesitation, went to lie down in Remus' and Sirius' bed, falling asleep right away.
~*~*~
In the following week, Harry's dreams became much more vivid, and he found it increasingly difficult to escape to the bathroom in time. Once he woke up to sticky pyjama bottoms and instantly felt fourteen again.
His current dream was of the particularly realistic sort, the kind where he was actually in their familiar bed and Remus and Sirius were touching him. He floated towards awareness, the caresses still fluttering over his skin. But instead of fading away, they intensified until there was no denying of their reality anymore.
Someone was indeed touching him. His sleep-hazed mind clamped down on the flip of panic in his stomach and he fell back into being not-quite-awake, but conscious enough when the wandering fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his pyjamas and brushed against his cock.
Harry moaned quietly, and received a chuckled "morning" in return. Sirius, then, who lay behind him. His hand closed firmly around Harry, moving up in one long stroke before slipping away. Harry let out an irritated noise, and tried to protest, but the words were too cumbersome in his mouth, especially when the disobedient hand slid over his thigh, pulling it up so that Sirius' own leg could slip underneath it. The movement pressed Harry more firmly against Sirius, heat beating into his skin everywhere, but particularly where his arse pushed against Sirius' groin.
The wandering fingers returned, tickling over Harry's skin, moving straight past his cock—which elicited another frustrated groan from him—and further down between his legs, kneading, pressing, and stroking until Harry was nearly keening.
"Please," he rasped.
A wet mouth latched onto his neck. "Sirius always finishes what he starts," Remus muttered before continuing to lick and suck.
Finally, Sirius' hand returned to where Harry most wanted it and started to pull him off with fast strokes. There was never enough air in Harry's lungs, no matter how much he gasped for it, and too much heat between their bodies. The pyjama bottoms were too confining, an obstacle Harry wanted to get rid of, but he couldn't move, could only tremble between Remus' mouth and Sirius' hand. He wanted them gone so that Remus' hand might join in, might slip back to where Sirius' questing fingers had lingered before, or that he might feel the press of Sirius' cock against his skin, feel it paint wet trails across his arse.
The intensity of their touches burned right through him until there was nothing left to consume, a vacuum that turned in on him before it burst outward again. Sirius continued to lightly run his fingers over him until the aftershocks had subsided. Remus' mouth disappeared, leaving cold trails behind, and for the first time that day, Harry opened his eyes.
He saw Sirius' come-stained fingers sweeping across and then into Remus' mouth, and the delight on Remus' face when he licked them clean.
A part of us. It echoed through Harry's mind again.
The words should have comforted him, but instead they called forth that panic he'd suppressed earlier, made it surge again, and this time, Harry couldn't push it away.
The line he'd skittered around and sometimes briefly over with Remus and Sirius had definitely been rendered obscure now; there would be no going back across it. What lay beyond seemed complicated and unknowable and threatening, sentiments he hadn't associated with Remus and Sirius before. This inkling filled Harry with dread, almost as if he were poised to lose something very precious to him.
He needed to get away. Struggling to disentangle himself from the knot of limbs he was a part of, he climbed out of bed.
"Harry, what—" Sirius called out, mingling with Remus' pleading, "Wait!", but Harry was already in the hall.
The bathroom felt like a sanctuary. He sank down on the edge of the bath, catching his breath. A few moments passed before there were knocks against the door.
"Harry?" Remus' anxious voice was muffled.
"'m fine. Just need to be alone."
Silence.
"Are you—upset? About what we did?"
Remus usually wasn't so tentative with words. It unsettled Harry even more. He wasn't sure how to answer the question. He didn't regret what had happened between them; he wouldn't want to change anything about it if he could. It had undone him like very few experiences with other people had before.
"No," he replied with much hesitation. "It's not that. I—can we talk later?" If at all. He wasn't sure if he could put his jumbled feelings into words.
"Of course." Remus sounded much more like himself. "Breakfast will be ready soon, if you want to come down."
Harry was grateful that Remus gave him the option of more time and space to himself, and he knew he'd keep Sirius at bay, too, if that were necessary. Standing up, Harry turned on the shower.
Continued in Part 2
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