Harry Potter, Remus/Sirius, confessions
Who needed Veritaserum when one had Fire Whiskey? All it took were a few drinks and the confessions began spilling out of them faster than a pixie under the epeditia charm.
The first few truths had been obvious, innocently little ones that Remus and Sirius had already known. Things like “I hate my family” (that was Sirius’) and “I hate being a werewolf” (that was Remus’) and “I hate Potions homework” (that was both of theirs).
They sat on the bed in the Shrieking Shack, the Marauders Map splayed out beside them so they could see if anyone was approaching. The bottle of Fire Whiskey they had so deftly liberated during their last adventure in Hogsmede sat between them. The place was silent apart from the sounds of their breathing, the glug-glugs of pouring and drinking, and their confessions.
Their third round of shots brought a slightly deeper level of confessions. Those were the “I have a crush on someone” (that was Sirius) and “I fancy someone I can’t have” (that was Remus). Uninhibited, those quickly turned into “I’m gay” (that was both of them). Though, as soon as it was out, both boys were surprised to hear from the other’s mouth.
“How long have you known?” Sirius asked, filling up their shot glasses for a fourth time.
“Ages and ages,” Remus replied, as if specific times no longer mattered in the alcohol-induced haze. “I’ve always liked blokes.” And Sirius nodded in a kind of dazed agreement.
Their fifth shots went down hot, making their throats tingle with heat and the rest of their bodies tingle for some other reason.
The confessions came out more swiftly now, as if they could not stop themselves. “I have some dirty magazines of guys that I hide in the bottom of my trunk” (that was Sirius) and “I kissed a boy at the muggle library by my house last summer” (that was Remus) and “I think about you when I wank” (that was both of them).
If this had come out at any other time, the confession would most certainly have been met with panic and backtracking and explanations galore. But this time, as they slowly reached for and then knocked back their sixth shots, there was nothing for it.
They moved closer together. “I’ve always wanted to kiss that little scar by your nose” (that was Sirius) and “I think you’re so handsome and dashing and irresistible” (that was Remus) and “I want to have sex with you” (from both of them, but phrased slightly differently and slurred from the drink).
The sentiment, if not the words, was understood. And as they came together, kissing and groping, fondling and frotting, neither boy noticed the dot on the map making its way along the tunnel to the shack.