[Fic] Sirius/Harry, Others -- Evidence of Things Not Seen; Part 2 (NC-17) Title: Evidence of Things Not Seen Author:thescarletwoman Rating: NC-17 Pairing(s): Sirius/Harry; Past Sirius/Regulus and Harry/Ginny Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Summary: It was a letter that started it all. Sometimes the things we most wish for come with a price. And it's the devil that lurks in the details. Warnings: chan (implied and not), underage (both participants underage), slightly ambiguous consent, wanking, frottage Word Count: ~17,500 Author's Notes: Written for xylodemon in the '08 hp_springsmut exchange. From a fic that started out very small... the plot ended up taking over completely and totally, though there's still a nice amount of smut in there as well. Thank you to my girls who not only betaed, but also held my hand through the writing of this. I couldn't have done it without you. Also thank you so much to the Springsmut Mods who were more than patient with me! Quotations throughout lovingly taken/adapted from: For Whom the Bell Tolls, Nine: The Musical and The Lord of the Rings.
"Appreciate the aspirin, mate, and whatever that liquid was you gave me."
"Pain potion."
"Potion, eh?"
"Yes. Potion. You used to brew them."
"I sure as hell am no Warlock. And I'd appreciate you'd not turning me into a newt or any strange such thing. Frankly, I'm out of here. Once I... er... only see one of you."
"I think you're still partially drunk."
"No, I'm a lot drunk."
"Stay for a bit on the couch, would you? Last thing I need is for you to crawl off and die in a gutter somewhere."
"Why do you care what happens to me?"
"Would you believe me if I told you that you were my godfather?"
"No."
"Just get some rest."
~*~
"So you say I'm a Wizard and I can do stuff with a little stick of wood?"
"Yes."
"And you also say that I'm your godfather."
"Yes."
"And supposedly I fell beyond a piece of hanging cloth and you brought me back."
"Yes."
"Kid, you got one hell of an imagination."
"I'm not a kid anymore."
"You're making up stories of wands and wizards and telling me that I am one. I have no memory of this."
"Just because you have no memory doesn't mean it didn't happen."
"Next thing you're going to tell me is that I was some sort of paedophile and deflowered you as a child."
"Care for some tea, Sirius?"
"Sure thing, Oscar."
~*~
"You know, I really shouldn't be staying here free and clear. It doesn't sit right with me."
"I'm happy to have you here."
"Look, I don't mind having a place to put my head, but it seems more than unfair that I'm not paying you something in return."
"You feel that strongly about it?"
"Yes."
"And you have how much money?"
"Couple of those funny looking coins you told me were Wizarding money."
"And you have a job...?"
"Not exactly."
"Then... stay here! While I'm at the Ministry, you can do odd jobs around the house."
"I'm not a fucking housewife. We're not even fucking, thus I'm not going to be your bloody maid."
"You said you wanted to repay me somehow. As I'm not taking your money..."
"Sure it can't be in sexual favours?"
"Was that a joke?"
"George, you're slow today. Yes, it was a joke and yes, I'll do the chores. Just so long as I don't have to wear high heels and a set of pearls."
"Where the hell did that come from?"
"Again, another joke Karl."
"You're really getting on my nerves."
"I'll leave..."
"No I want you here. It's a deal."
~*~
"Hold the wand like this. No, it's not a weapon -- well, it is, but not like a sword! Right. That's how you hold it."
"And I wave it, and I'll create things? Or can attack people? If it's all the same I'd rather have something I know will do the job."
"This is better than any Muggle weapon."
"It's a fucking stick of wood."
"Would you just shut up and follow my lead?"
"Whatever you say, Gary."
"It's Harry."
"That's what I said."
"No, you called me Gary."
"Same thing."
"Harry. Now, as I was saying. Hold the wand like this. Then make a swishing motion, flick and say Wingardium Leviosa."
"You're out of your bloody mind."
"Just fucking say it, Sirius."
"Wingardium Leviosa. Bloody hell. Did that feather just..."
"Believe me now?"
~*~
The good news? Sirius was still in the house.
The bad news... he still had no bloody memory of who he was. The strange cockney-like accent had faded within the few days and Harry had fully expected Sirius' memory to come back in that same amount of time. No one, not even Sirius could keep a joke going that long. Harry had come up with a theory that being beyond the Veil had merged his memories with the other consciousnesses of the shades who lived beyond it as well. That would account for the accent and the Muggle-like memories. But if that was the case, wouldn't Sirius' own memories have resurfaced by now?
The days on the calendar continued to click by and aside from the improvement in Sirius' speech as well as the lessening of Muggle references, nothing had changed.
It had taken some very fast thinking and talking on Harry's part to convince Sirius to stay with him -- after Harry had tripped over him, Sirius had tried to beat an exit to the door as quickly as possible. First, there had been the lie that if he had been drunk, perhaps it would have been a good idea to stay for breakfast and detox. Following breakfast came the fib that Harry needed help around the house, and of course he had to repay Sirius with a night on the couch in thanks for all the manual labour. One thing led to another and Harry soon found himself with a roommate. A roommate who didn't know who the hell he was and called Harry every name in the book save Harry, but a companion nonetheless.
Harry had tried to introduce small aspects of the Wizarding world to Sirius but to no avail. The man simply had no memory of his previous life and worst of all, he didn't even realise the memories were missing.
They soon fell into a comfortable routine: Harry daily went off to the Ministry and Sirius stayed home, keeping busy by doing tasks around the house. Harry advised Sirius against going into town and Sirius had obliged without complaint. Harry hated turning Sirius into a house-bound captive once more, but he had no choice in the matter. Even if Sirius had been cleared of all charges shortly after his "death", Harry didn't want to turn him loose on a community filled with grateful Witches and Wizards without him having all of his mental faculties. During the day, Sirius cleaned and returned the house to some semblance of order that had been sorely lacking since Ginny's departure. At night they watched the telly together and talked, Harry doing whatever he could to try and remind Sirius of who he was.
Nothing had worked yet. Not a damn thing.
Harry had been careful in what he mentioned of his past with Sirius and what had begun to blossom that Christmas they spent together at Number Twelve. The last thing Harry wanted to do was scare Sirius away by mentioning that at the age of thirty-five he had fucked a fifteen year-old. Harry had a feeling Sirius would leave the moment the idea was even broached. Thus, Harry kept the conversation to safe topics and avoided any mentions of their intimate past. Sirius had already brought it up once in jest and Harry had quickly changed the subject.
He'd only bring it up if there were no other options, and as only two weeks had passed since Sirius' arrival, the proverbial last was still a long way off.
Worst of all, Sirius' close proximity was re-kindling Harry's feelings for the older man. It was in the way Sirius' hair fell across his eyes or the way they'd verbally spar with each other when Harry tried to show Sirius a spell. He couldn't jump his godfather in this condition, no matter how his body craved to touch Sirius. In the end, He'd have to content himself with accidental hand-brushes or the occasional bumping of feet under the kitchen table at meals. Sirius wasn't making it any easier by becoming the kind and caring partner (only without the 'benefits' part). Every now and again, after a particularly long day at the Ministry, Sirius would offer Harry a back rub.
There was a moment there when Harry could see his Sirius lurking in the cloudy depths of his grey eyes. In a flash it was gone and the confused memory-less man was back in his place.
Those touches were the hardest of all -- and usually ended with Harry making a bee-line for the bedroom before Sirius could notice the prominent bulge in his trousers.
The back rubs, while welcome after a long day, were pure hell for Harry. How quickly they could be turned to something sexual -- the tilt of a head, angling back for a kiss. They'd fall into each other's arms... Sirius would call him Harry for the first time...
"Bob."
... Harry would turn, straddling Sirius and run his fingers through his long hair...
"BOB!"
... they'd kiss and Sirius would run his hands down Harry's back, cupping his arse and moving to unbutton his trousers...
"Earth to Bob!"
"Huh?" Harry asked, blinking away the sudden fantasy. Quick trouser check -- slight tenting but nothing too noticeable if he stood up just right. Harry rolled awkwardly and pulled himself into a standing position, quickly shifting to hide any tell-tale signs of arousal.
As if the way you stood wasn't a dead giveaway... Harry scolded himself.
"Nothing. You looked lost," Sirius said, shrugging. "That and I wanted to know what you wanted to watch on telly tonight."
Harry ran a hand hastily through his hair. "Don't care," he mumbled, shifting again before his cock suddenly stood erect with a flashing sign that said 'suck me now'. Oh god. He either needed Sirius to remember who he was or he needed to get laid -- preferably in that order. It was quickly becoming clear to Harry that he was more than sexually frustrated and Sirius lounging as he was on the sofa was not helping matters either.
"I... uh... will be down in a few minutes," Harry said, running a hand hastily through his already messy hair. "I forgot I had a couple of files to go through before tomorrow," Harry lied, turning and making a run for the sanctuary of his bedroom.
Slamming the door shut, Harry leaned against the cool wood and banged his head against it repeatedly. There had to be a better way. There simply had to be. At the rate he was going, he'd lose his mind long before Sirius regained his. His cock strained against the confines of his trousers, begging to be free. Closing his eyes, Harry's hand skirted down his polo shirt and towards his jeans, letting out a hiss of pleasure as he palmed his cock through the fabric of his jeans. Using the door for support, Harry leaned back and undid the zip of his jeans, working his hand inside his boxers to touch his aching cock. Harry closed his eyes, forming a perfect likeness of Sirius' face in his mind's eye. It wasn't his hand that touched his cock, but Sirius'. It was Sirius' fingers that caressed his balls, rolling them and tugging gently to drive him mad with want. Sirius kissed him, pressing his taller form against Harry's body and it was Sirius' erection that was pressing into his hip.
It was Sirius who fell to his knees in front of Harry, running his tongue along the full length of his cock before taking it into the warm heat of his mouth.
Harry bit his lower lip to keep from groaning, running his thumb over the slit to spread precome across the head of his cock. But he wasn't doing any of the actions. It was Sirius who stood before him, whispering in his ear what he was going to do to Harry.
I want you on your hands and knees, spread open for me to fuck you.
I want to suck you off until you come, my name on your lips.
Touch yourself while I prepare you with my tongue.
I want you to tell me in great detail what you want me to do to you. That you want me to spread your legs and fuck you until neither of us can walk tomorrow. Touch yourself while you tell me--
Only by covering his mouth with his free hand did Harry manage to keep quiet, muffling the sound of his cries as he came on his hand, his body spasming in the aftershocks of his orgasm. He was breathing hard, his fringe sticking to his forehead, matted there by sweat. Harry slowly slid to the floor, his back pressed against the door; feet unable to support his weight any longer.
It was only a matter of time before this situation sent him completely around the bend. Hell, he was already half-way there. What sane man brought back his godfather from beyond the Veil and wanked thinking about him and wishing it were Sirius' hand stroking him to orgasm rather than his own? No sane man he knew, that was for damn sure.
Once he caught his breath (and used a couple of cleaning spells as well), Harry hauled himself to his feet and settled himself at his desk. There were a few files that he had brought home from the Ministry, but unlike the lie he told Sirius, it was nothing pressing. Nothing that couldn't wait to be read the following day at the office. Instead, Harry pulled the large tome that had begun this whole mess towards himself with a sigh, knowing there had to be something in regards to the spell he overlooked. Harry had the pages memorised. It was absolutely improbable that he had missed something.
Yet there was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that said to look the pages over one more time.
Running his finger along the words, Harry found he was muttering them under his breath as he read. Nothing new. Nothing that jumped out and said 'I'm what you missed, you bloody wanker!'
Harry was about to slam the book shut when that dividing line caught his eye once more. He furrowed his brow, thinking back to the first time he had opened the book. There had been words in there and it wasn't a solid line as it appeared. He had been too wrapped up in the excitement of finding the passages as opposed to reading the fine print. You bloody idiot, Harry cursed himself as he rooted around in the top drawer of his desk for a magnifying glass. After stabbing himself on various accoutrements in his drawer (six pencils, three quills and a couple of staples... he really needed to clean his desk out), Harry finally emerged with the glass. Finding the spot that would give him the best magnification, Harry's breath caught in his throat when the line began to form words.
His eyes widened when he read those words.
With a strangled cry, the magnifying glass fell from Harry's hand to smash on the hardwood floor. He didn't even jump at the sound of the glass breaking. He stared the words on the page, now masquerading once more as a harmless dividing line.
While the memory is retained while beyond the Veil, once brought back they will have no memory of their previous incarnation. It is up to the retriever to restore the innocent's memories. There is one memory in their past that is the key to all others. If not discovered by Christmas, the innocent will never again regain their original memories. Ever.
Warning labels like that should have been writing in bold font in letters several centimetres high. Not disguised at the bottom of a page where it would never be seen.
Christmas.
He had six weeks.
Oh god.
~*~
December came and with it the first snowfall of the year. There wasn't much on the ground, but it was enough to make Sirius wake him in the morning with a boyish enthusiasm Harry thought he'd never see again on his godfather's face. Though Sirius still didn't know who he was, it made Harry's heart soar to see the man light and free once more -- how he must have been as a child. No matter what Harry tried to tell Sirius of his past, nothing seemed to be retainable. The magic was no longer as scary and in fact, Sirius soon seemed to crave learning the different spells. He may not have remembered them from session to session, but at least he didn't balk at being called a Wizard anymore. This was the man his father had been best mates with -- not the ghost who had lurked within the halls of Grimmauld Place.
Grimmauld! Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? Surely being in Grimmauld place would be enough to awaken whatever latent memories were in the back of Sirius' head. That place held enough of Sirius' memories, both good and bad, to be of use to them both. Why shouldn't he take Sirius somewhere that, no matter how painful it was to be there, may unlock everything? Besides, if Sirius didn't remember anything they were no worse off. It was at breakfast that morning that Harry first posed the idea.
"I want... to go somewhere this afternoon," Harry said, stirring his oatmeal with a spoon.
"Go somewhere?" Sirius asked. "Is this to lead us on another wild goose chase where I'm supposed to remember some insignificant detail from a past I don't remember? You know, Rocky, there are some doctors that say if the mind forgets things it's for a reason."
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was getting tired of constantly correcting Sirius as to what his name was. Over the past month he'd been called everything from Jack to Bob to Nigel. Never once Harry. The closest Sirius had ever gotten was --
"Harold?" Harry lifted his head. "What's going on?" Sirius asked. "Did I say something wrong? I didn't mean."
Harry shook his head. "No, it's nothing. If you don't want to go, then we don't have to go."
Sirius sighed, leaning back in his chair. "No, you want us to go to some old house or some deserted room or some termite infested hellhole, you're putting me up, so who am I to refuse?"
"You don't have to agree," Harry said softly, lowering his head once more to stare into his oatmeal.
From across the table, Harry heard the skritch of a chair being pushed back and figured Sirius was leaving the room. Harry nearly jumped when he felt the light touch of a hand on his shoulder. It slowly ran along his shoulder, thumb rubbing against the skin at the base of his neck. Harry leaned into the hand, wishing that these small touches that were becoming more and more common place would unlock something.
Taking Sirius all over hell's half acre was all well and good, but at some point he was going to have to face a harsh reality that his Sirius was not coming back. Maybe Harry would have to carve out some sort of future with this man who had no knowledge of his past. In a sense -- it was a clean slate. A Sirius who wasn't damaged by the time at Azkaban. But still -- he wanted the man who knew his father. Who could tell him about his parents.
"If you want to go to... wherever we're going..." the hand fell away, "then let's go. Now, if you want."
"After breakfast," Harry said. He glanced up at Sirius who nodded slightly and left the room without another word. Harry sighed, spoon angrily attacking his half-empty bowl. This was not how things should have been at all. At all.
Following breakfast, the two made their way into Muggle London. While Apparating may have been easier, Harry was becoming desperate. He wasn't about to give up the possibility that something as menial as a ride on the Underground was going to reveal Sirius' memories. Sirius may have enjoyed the ride but it yielded no earth shattering revelations. Or if there was, Sirius wasn't saying a damn thing. They walked through the dingier side of London to Grimmauld Place.
"Where'd you say this place was?" Sirius asked, glancing at the row of brownstone homes.
"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place," Harry replied.
"I hate to break it to you, Robert, but there isn't a Number Twelve. We have eleven. We have thirteen," he said, pointing at each house in turn. "Unless you feel like pulling a house out of yer arse, we've wasted a trip—" Sirius broke off, watching a house do exactly that. Perhaps not fly out of Harry's arse, but it certainly was appearing out of thin air. "Is it safe?" he asked.
Harry shrugged. "I'd be careful what you touch. Your mum was a bit of a basket case."
Sirius blinked. "This... this was my home?" He asked, gaping at the now visible Number Twelve.
"Yes. You grew up here. I guess it was supposed to be quite the home at one time. Now it's not quite so great. But maybe..."
Sirius didn't hear the last bit of Harry's sentence. He was already half-way up the stairs and was running into the house full-force. Of any of the places they had visited... Hogwarts, the Shrieking Shack, Diagon Alley... this was the first place that had brought any sort of enthusiasm from Sirius. Perhaps it was a sign! Harry quickly followed Sirius into the home, hanging back while Sirius practically ran through the rooms on the first floor. This had to be the place -- it just had to be.
"What's behind here?" Sirius asked, poking at a set of green velvet curtains.
"I wouldn't do—" The curtains flew wide and Mrs Black's screams filled the room. "Too late."
"TRAITOR! SCUM OF THE EARTH AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THE GOOD BLOODY SENSE TO STAY DEAD. NO SON OF MINE AND WITH THE LITTLE WHELP. THE ONE WHO—"
Harry lurched forward and with great effort, pulled the curtains shut once more.
"Who the fuck was that?" Sirius asked, pressing himself against the opposite wall, as far away from the screaming portrait as he could.
"That would be your mum."
Sirius blinked. "That raving cow was my mother?" Sirius shuddered violently. "Are you sure I need to remember everything of my past? I'd prefer not to remember that bitch if it's all the same to you."
Chuckling, Harry took Sirius' hand and led him upstairs. "Jump over the steps I do if you don't want to hear her raging again."
"I don't want to hear her ever again. Don't need to tell me twice."
They reached the top of the stairs and Harry moved to take him towards the library when he stopped. Sirius... wasn't following him. Harry turned, seeing Sirius pausing before an open door; it was the door leading to his bedroom. Harry slowly approached from behind, resting his hand on the small of Sirius' back.
"I know this place…"
Sirius slowly walked into the space, his footfalls making prints in the dust-covered floorboards. Harry hung back, watching Sirius move through the cobweb filled room. He said nothing but merely observed, eyes following Sirius' hands as they ran along the duvet. Dust particles filled the air having never been disturbed in nearly six years.
"I've... I've been here before," Sirius said softly. Not caring about the filth everywhere, Sirius sat down on the bed, his hands still questing across the red material. "I... I once fucked someone on this bed."
His voice was softer this time and Harry wondered if he was getting lost inside a memory; lost inside the memory that would be the key to the rest. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he waited for Sirius to continue, afraid to speak for fear of violating the sanctity of the moment. He didn't want to push Sirius in a direction that would change it from Sirius' memory to Harry's retelling of one they had shared. Harry willed Sirius to think of that Christmas Eve they kissed under the mistletoe then returned here. He wanted Sirius to remember the feel of their bodies as they moved against one another. Wanted Sirius to remember...
"He... he had dark hair." Sirius spoke softly, almost as if to himself, forgetting that Harry were even in the room. "Dark... dark hair," he said once more. "Always messy when he thought Mother wasn't looking."
Mother.
Harry's stomach dropped to somewhere around his knees. It was someone else... well, of course there were others besides himself. This was Sirius they were talking about, a man who always seemed to exude such sexuality. Why wouldn't it be logical to think that Sirius had other lovers? It wasn't as if Harry expected himself to be the be-all end-all one. He had just hoped it would have been memories of their time together that would be the key to everything.
Well, beggars couldn't be choosers.
"When we were younger, he'd come in here when he thought Mother wasn't looking. I'm sure since it was me, she never cared much what went on in my bedroom. Even as a child I was a disappointment to her." Sirius' voice sounded hollow and Harry was afraid to speak for fear of breaking his near trance-like state. Rhythmically, while he spoke, Sirius' hand moved across the dusty duvet. Harry's stomach stayed where it was -- he'd finally realised who Sirius was talking about.
His brother.
Regulus.
The dark-haired boy Sirius had fucked had been his brother.
"He often had bad dreams, but with a house like this, who could blame him? He may have been a year younger than me but he always seemed so child-like -- so frail at times. From the earliest, he was mother's little boy. He looked like her while I looked like my father. He had dreams and it didn't matter how old we were, he still would crawl into my bed as if his older brother could protect him from everything. I tried -- even as he fell into the wrong crowd. The crowd I should have run with.
"He fell into the wrong crowd and I moved out of the house. I couldn't take it any more. Maybe I shouldn't have moved out. Maybe if I would have stayed he wouldn't have done what he did."
Sirius began rubbing his forearm, Harry's eyes following the movement. The meaning wasn't lost on him -- the left forearm -- where the Dark Mark would have rested on Regulus' arm.
"I had told him I had planned to run away," Sirius said, continuing his story.
Harry felt as if he should leave, that this information was something he shouldn't be privy to. It was too personal, too immensely private. However the thought of what was right and what Harry did were two different things. While he knew he should run away and leave Sirius to his thoughts, Harry had no desire to leave.
"He thought it was another of my jokes but I told him I was done. I told him that I couldn't take it any more, couldn't take her pure-blood mania. Couldn't take the whole lot of 'em.
"That night he came to my room and I figured it was because of another dream. This was what I knew I'd miss, falling asleep with him in my arms. I loved him so much, even if he was going down a path I was powerless to move him from. But he came and he held onto me as tightly as I held him.
"I don't know who made that first move. For all I remember," Sirius' eyes closed as he leaned back against the dusty wooden headboard, "which isn't much... I could have been the one who kissed him. Or maybe he kissed me. It doesn't matter in the end, does it? We kissed and one thing led to another. Blood didn't matter in that moment. It was more of an intimate farewell than anything. We had to be quiet... in case Mother came by the door and heard us. But it was the fear of being caught..."
Sirius drew in a breath, the ghost of a smile coming to his face. It pained Harry seeing that smile -- to know that one of the first times his godfather smiled was the result of thinking about someone else.
"We fucked... him on his knees and me behind. If I close my eyes I swear I can feel him around me, so tight and perfect. The sound of his breathing as I pounded into him. The little noises he made when I touched his cock and he came in my hand. And the next morning... the next morning I left Grimmauld Place for good. That night was the last we spoke... if you call 'fuck me harder' a conversation. Mother forbade us any contact from that day on. I still wonder if she deduced what we did that night or if the contact wasn't allowed because she disowned me. Maybe our private farewell is why she blasted my name off the tree. I don't know, nor do I have any intention on asking her portrait. I left... he joined up with them and we became two brothers on opposing sides of the same war. We saw each other again but never to speak.
"And then he was dead. By all rights, I should have hated him, but I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach when I saw it in the Prophet. Mother didn't even send me an owl. I had to learn about his death from a fuckin' newspaper. My own brother. Talk about a kick in the head."
Sirius stopped speaking, pulling his arms around himself. Harry wanted to reach out and touch him, to say that everything was okay but the truth of the matter was... everything was far from okay. This was not how he had envisioned this excursion to Grimmauld. It seemed like every plan he ever had when it came to Sirius was turning out piss poor. Harry didn't exactly have the strongest learning curve. Maybe he should just cut his losses, let Sirius leave his home and attempt to pick up the broken pieces that was his life.
Maybe Ginny...
No, that one was out of the question completely.
"Do... do you remember his name?" Harry finally asked, breaking the silence of the room.
Sirius jumped as if he had forgotten Harry's presence in the room. His brow furrowed and Harry assumed Sirius was trying to pull through the hazy bit of memory to come up with a name. Maybe Sirius didn't remember-- Harry's stomach fell to his shoes once more when he saw Sirius' face break into a wide grin, eyes opening once more.
"Regulus."
Bloody hell.
"Do you..." A deep breath. "Do you remember anything else?" Harry asked, hating the way his voice was cracking. God, what if he remembered everything but him...
Sirius made a move as if to speak then closed his mouth. Very, very slowly he shook his head. "No, I don't. I know I should remember more about this house and I'm sure I'm supposed to remember you, Jake, otherwise you wouldn't—"
"Harry," he corrected for the thousandth time, with a sigh.
"Harry..." Sirius apologised. "Otherwise you wouldn't be dragging me all over the fucking place like some puppy dog after a scent. I know there's more... but I can only see his face. And even now the memory is fading. Ask me in an hour and I won't remember it anymore." Sighing, Sirius pulled himself into a sitting position. "Is that what I was supposed to remember?" Sirius asked, searching Harry's face for a sign of approval.
Slowly, Harry shook his head. "No... it was.. we did," he said softly before he could stop himself.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "I'm old enough to be your father," he said with a shake of his head. "I have no memory of fucking a damn child I'm sorry to say. Frankly, I wouldn't... not with someone that young. I have my morals after all."
Yet those morals don't extend to fucking your own brother, do they? Harry asked silently, his eyes narrowing. He fought back the tears and would not show any sign of weakness, no matter how much Sirius' words stung. He was not going to be weepy, was not going to cry over this. He swallowed hard and forced the lump that had lodged itself in his throat to remove itself.
"You did. I remember," Harry said softly, crossing into the room. He didn't care if the memory became a retelling. He was going to make Sirius understand -- to remember if it was the last thing he did. "You kissed me... and then we fumbled our way back here." Harry stopped inches from Sirius, fitting his body between the other man's knees. Sirius looked up as Harry placed his hands on Sirius' shoulders. "You may not remember," Harry said, dropping his head to rest against Sirius' forehead, "but I'll never forget it as long as I live."
"I'm sorry..."
Harry pulled back, cupping Sirius' face in his hand and forcing him look upwards. Harry could see the regret and the confusion etched in his features. He shouldn't take advantage of Sirius like this...
To hell with what he should and shouldn't do.
"There's nothing to be sorry about," Harry said, leaning down to kiss Sirius' forehead, even if he knew he shouldn't. Sirius said nothing but leaned his head against Harry's abdomen. Harry didn't care if this was taking advantage of Sirius in a moment of weakness -- he had Sirius for this moment and he didn't care how he had him. His fingers carded through Sirius' black hair, the tips gently massaging his scalp.
His breath caught in his throat when Sirius ran a hand along his thigh, moving close to his groin. Sirius pulled away from Harry, his grey eyes meeting Harry's green ones as his hand cupped Harry through the fabric of his jeans.
"Sirius – what—" Harry finally managed to croak out.
"You said we... in this room..." Sirius palmed his cock through the jeans and Harry had to bite his cheek to keep from crying out. God how he wanted this.
"But I didn't mean -- that we..."
"What if this brings back my memories?"
"I thought you kept saying that you didn't want to remember."
"After all you've done... I'm beginning to change my mind."
Sirius leaned forward, nuzzling Harry's groin, his hand snaking around to grasp Harry's arse. Closing his eyes, Harry rocked against Sirius, his hands resting on Sirius' shoulders to keep himself in an upright position. Sirius' hands seemed everywhere and it was a struggle for Harry to remain standing. He spread his legs slightly which only served to push his erection forward, straining against the zipper of his jeans. Harry wondered if there was some latent memory that Sirius didn't even know was there that let him move so exquisitely. Sirius acted like a man who had male lovers all his life and wasn't suffering from some sort of amnesia.
Then again, with Sirius pressing open-mouthed kisses to his groin, Harry wasn't about to complain.
His hands moved from Sirius' shoulders to his hair, wrapping his fingers around the black strands. He tugged gently, moving Sirius' mouth and head where he most wanted it. With a devilish smirk, Sirius pulled away from Harry's grip and his touch turned rough as he palmed Harry's cock. The jeans were soon unbuttoned and Sirius quickly undid the zip, pulling his jeans and pants down from his hips far enough to expose only his erection. Sirius licked his lips, leaning forward to run his tongue along the underside from root to tip.
This time, Harry couldn't contain the moan that came from deep within. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to Sirius' ministrations. His hands on his thighs, moving back to cup and roll his balls. Sirius' tongue laving over every inch of him. God, he was in heaven. Sirius pulled back, his eyes focused on Harry's as he began to stroke him slowly. The lubrication came from spit, Harry not wanting to break the moment to go hunting for anything more 'conventional'. Hell, it was doubtful if there was any oil in the place and frankly, Harry didn't want to think of Kreacher needing to use it.
Sirius' hand worked him over, thumb running across the slit. A downward stroke was followed by a twist of the wrist. Harry had wanted this for too long to keep his climax at bay. He knew he was rushing towards the peak and he was powerless to stop himself from tumbling off the edge. Tossing his head back, Harry came with a whimper, fighting the urge to collapse onto the bed and pin Sirius beneath himself.
He looked down at Sirius through half-lidded eyes, struggling to control his breathing.
"That was... wow," He said softly, muttering a cleaning charm and pulling his jeans back up where they belonged.
"I'd... rather agree. And the memory's still here so maybe you were onto something, Jack."
Harry hoped the sound of the knife sliding into his heart didn't show on his face.
~*~
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house... not a creature was stirring...
Hell, who was he kidding? There was a creature stirring and this thing hadn't slept in three days. Exhaustion was beginning to take its toll on Harry as the countdown to midnight became closer and closer. Nothing he had done had returned Sirius' memories to him and after their tête-à-tête at Grimmauld Place, Sirius had become more and more withdrawn. There were no more casual touches and there certainly weren't any more back rubs.
Once Christmas passed, the man who was living in the bedroom down the hall would be Sirius in name only. There'd be no memories... no nothing. All that would remain would be his looks and his name.
Harry was fast losing hope.
"Geoffrey! Hey Geoffrey!"
Harry blinked hazily, finding himself on the couch with a blanket tucked under his chin. The last thing he remembered was reading at his desk. He must have fallen asleep, but if that was the case, how did he get to the sofa? Surely Sirius hadn't...
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Harry awkwardly pulled himself into a sitting position and found the living room had been completely transformed. Harry's jaw was agape (though he quickly closed it before he looked like a fish out of water), staring at his Christmasized living room. In his last push to try and find something, he'd completely forgotten to decorate the house for Christmas. Sirius' first Christmas back and he'd been more concerned about returning his Sirius to normal than he had been trying to make this Sirius happy. And hell, he'd completely forgotten that James was going to be with him this Christmas. Who wanted to open presents in a house that had absolutely no Christmas cheer?
Maybe his priorities had been a bit skewed.
"When'd you do this?" Harry asked, using the back of his hand to hide a jaw-breaking yawn.
"While you were asleep. You keeled over at your desk so I figured the sofa would be better. I may not remember my past but I am aware when Christmas is. So I went up to the attic, found the boxes and decided to decorate."
"I must have been out," Harry said, trying to flatten the hair that was currently sticking upwards at strange angles from falling asleep on the couch.
"You were. Considering the fact that I fell arse over tincups down the stairs carrying the tree down."
"I slept..."
"I didn't break anything, thanks ever so much for your concern," Sirius said with a grin. He reached out and tousled Harry's sleep messy hair and headed towards the kitchen. "When you feel human, there's waffles."
What the hell?
Harry scrambled from the couch and after Sirius, catching up with him just as he reached the doorway. Sirius had really gone all out -- decorating the place just as Ginny used to. Somehow, though, even though there was tinsel and lights everywhere, it managed not to look gaudy. It rather made Harry think of that Christmas at Grimmauld. There was the same smile on Sirius' face... the same jovial mood...
He couldn't move.
Harry struggled, finding his feet were glued to the floor and that Sirius was in much the same position. "What the..."
Sirius pointed up, chewing on his lower lip. "I couldn't resist."
Harry lifted an eyebrow. "Mistletoe that makes you stay in one place?" Harry asked, arching the other brow. "Mistletoe that, when two people pause under it, are stuck there until they kiss?"
"Like I said, I couldn't resist," Sirius said, shrugging.
"Realising, of course, that we are the only two in the hou—"
He was still speaking when Sirius lowered his head to capture his lips in a kiss, Sirius' mouth effectively drowning out the rest of his statement. He was too shocked to react, half wondering if this was nothing more than a practical joke. Harry pulled away, sputtering as he stared at Sirius.
"Are you mental? What in the—"
"Harry, shut up."
Harry blinked and was unresponsive at first when Sirius stole the second and much more demanding kiss. The first had been soft. The second was animalistic and passionate, lacking any bit of chastity, and it as soon as Harry's brain kicked into gear he returned the kiss with as much force as he could muster. This promised forbidden pleasures in the bedroom or whatever surface happened to be the flattest and most supportive... and the closest. His mind was still reeling over the name he had been called. Perhaps it was sheer coincidence that Sirius had finally called him 'Harry'. Yet Harry heard his name murmured softly as Sirius' lips moved against his own, hands running down his back to cup his arse.
As much as it pained him to do so, Harry pulled back, framing Sirius' face with his hands. "Say my name."
"I just did," Sirius replied.
"Please..."
"You're Harry James Potter. A right prat when you want to be, but my godson and Prongs' son, so I assume it comes with the territory."
"And do you want an aspirin?"
"Why'd I want that when there's pain potions around somewhere?"
This was too good to be true.
Sirius leaned forward, closing the distance between them once more. "Kiss me back like you did the last time," Sirius mumbled against Harry's lips. "When I tricked you the last time with the mistletoe."
Harry hadn't told him that part of the story.
That could only mean one thing.
His Sirius was back.
Harry launched himself at Sirius, backing them into the door frame as he pulled himself up into Sirius' waiting arms. His legs wrapped around Sirius' waist and it wasn't long before their positions were flipped, Harry with his back against the door frame. Harry's hips moved against Sirius' while his tongue duelled with the other man's. God how he had missed Sirius. All the sexual frustration of the past several months was building to the point of explosion and Harry knew their coupling would be fast. He wanted nothing more than to be on his knees with Sirius behind him for the rest of his life. This was one hell of a Christmas present.
Somehow they managed to make it upstairs without killing themselves. The two stumbled as they walked, trying to move without disengaging their lips. Hands pulled shirts from waistbands to allow access to bare skin. Harry completed the rare feat of shucking his trousers while moving backwards up the stairs to the bedroom. Clothes were strewn along every bit of the way and Harry prayed to god there were no surprise visits to wish him a Happy Christmas. Their kisses were broken long enough to remove their shirts and any other extraneous pieces of clothing. Even if they were in a hurry to make it to bed, still wearing socks was not only un-romantic but decidedly out of the question.
Once in the bedroom, Sirius pushed Harry against the door, stretching his long, lean body over Harry's. It was like every fantasy he'd had in the past few months. Whimpering into the kiss, Harry spread his legs slightly, his erect cock ready and waiting or Sirius' touch. Sirius first took him in his hand, spreading precome across the head and his thumb teasing the slit. While the motions may have been similar, this felt entirely different than the quick hand-job in Grimmauld. This... this had feeling behind the motions.
Sirius' hand slowly stroked Harry's cock and bollocks while Sirius licked and sucked his way down Harry's chest. His mouth latched onto a nipple, teasing the tiny nub to hardness. Sirius rolled it with his tongue, gently biting and tugging, each swipe of his tongue driving Harry mad. Sirius made his way lower, slowly moving into position on his knees. He nuzzled Harry's groin, the very tip of his tongue teasing every bit of naked skin. Harry leaned against the door, his nails scratching the wood. At some point, Harry's eyes must have closed and he wrenched them open just in time to see his cock disappear into Sirius' mouth. Harry let out a low moan, barely managing to keep from thrusting his hips into Sirius' mouth. Sirius' cheeks hollowed as he sucked, dragging his teeth along the underside of Harry's cock.
"Turn around."
The sudden loss of the wet heat around his cock was far from welcome. Harry was about to protest when Sirius lightly slapped Harry's hip.
"I said, turn around." There was the hint of an order there, though it was masked by the lustful smile on Sirius' face.
This time, Harry did as he was asked and turned to face the door. Sirius gently nudged Harry's legs further apart, his hands grasping the twin globes of his arse. Sirius teased the skin with his tongue, running in one thin line along the small of his back and down to the cleft. Harry tilted his head, leaning his cheek against the door just as Sirius pressed his tongue inside. The door was completely flat and afforded Harry nothing to hold onto. Sirius alternated appendages, first his tongue, then his finger pushing inside Harry's arse. It'd been... far too long and Harry knew he was tight and tense.
"Relax, Harry," Sirius said, pressing a kiss to the back of his thigh.
"It's been a while," Harry managed to reply, his breathing rapid.
"That's why we're not going to go fast," Sirius said, slipping a second finger in. The fingers scissored, slowly stretching Harry. "Do you... here?" Sirius asked softly.
Harry shook his head against the door. "The bed. This time... the bed."
Behind Harry, Sirius rose to his feet and turned Harry around to face him once more. Sirius gathered Harry in close, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist while he kissed him. For the first time in what had to have been years, Harry finally felt as if he was someplace he belonged in the arms of someone who truly loved him. While Ginny had loved him, Harry had always wondered if it was because he had saved her all those years ago and her love was built on nothing more than a girl-hood crush. When Sirius kissed him, it seared him all the way down to the very tips of his toes.
This was love and something else.
They fell into bed and into each other's arms and Harry found exactly where he wanted to be for the rest of his days.
Sirius quirked a brow. "Has there been a line of men? I thought you said..."
Harry smacked Sirius upside the head as best as he could given his position beneath Sirius. "It's called wanking... you wanker."
Sirius reached for the drawer and pulled out the half-filled bottle of oil, flipping the cap open with his thumb. "Wanking, were you? Thinking about anything in particular?"
Harry flushed. "Maybe."
"Tell me," he said, pushing the bottle into Harry's hand.
Biting his lip, Harry pulled himself into a quasi-sitting position, pouring a bit of the clear oil onto his hand. He paused, swallowing hard. Here was the moment... the moment he had been craving since the letter appeared; had been fantasizing about since he tripped over Sirius in his living room... and he was hesitating. Sirius' hand encircled Harry's wrist and guided him forward and towards his cock. Sucking in a breath, Harry closed the distance, rubbing the oil along the length of Sirius' cock. His movements grew more sure when Harry added a slight twist of his wrist.
"Everything and anything," Harry said softly, watching the way Sirius' cock twitched in his hand. "Usually on my knees... you behind—"
Sirius cut off Harry's statement, grabbing him around the waist and tossing him as if he weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. Harry laughed, rolling on the bed and onto his hands and knees. There would be time to try out every position in the book and invent a few new ones as well. Sirius moved into position behind Harry, grasping his hips while his cock rubbed against the cleft of his arse, teasing. Blood hell. Harry's back bowed as he tried to move his hips towards Sirius' cock. He needed this and now. Just as Harry was about to demand Sirius fuck him already, Sirius pushed the head of his cock into Harry's arse. Harry tossed his head back and groaned, his fingers twining in the bed sheets.
This was better than he remembered. Better than any fantasy.
The thrusts began slowly, Sirius letting Harry take the time to get used to the feeling of something sliding in and out. It wasn't long before lust and want took over and Sirius' thrusts began to increase in intensity. Harry's head fell forward to rest against the pillow while Sirius pounded into him. Sirius shifted, changing his angle until --
"Fuck," Harry swore. "There... again. God."
Harry babbled incoherently as Sirius hit that spot repeatedly, and it felt like it was Guy Fawkes Day with the number of fireworks that were exploding before his eyes. Harry shifted once more, resting his head against his forearm and let his free hand wrap around his cock. He stroked in counterpoint to Sirius' thrusts and soon Sirius' hand joined his own to stroke in unison.
"Close," Sirius growled in Harry's ear, teeth gently nibbling on the cartilage.
Harry could feel his balls tightening and he had no chance to warn Sirius. He came with a cry, Sirius' name on his lips as he spilled his seed on their hands. Several more thrusts and Sirius came, his body spasming behind Harry. They held the position for only a moment longer before Harry couldn't hold the weight of their bodies any longer. They fell to the mattress in a sweaty, sticky heap, moving into cuddle against each without a word spoken between them.
Harry cuddled against Sirius, pulling the covers up around themselves. They didn't need words to express what had just transpired. Harry knew everything in the way Sirius looked at him in that moment.
What had once been lost was now found -- and they would never lose each other ever again.
~*~
"I have to see something."
"Oh for fuck's sake, would you leave it alone?" Sirius asked rolling his eyes. He sat up, the covers pooling around his bare waist. "I'm back and I know exactly who you are and who I am, and haven't had a slip of memory in two weeks. There's no explanation for what happened. Accept it, Hermione."
Harry maturely stuck his tongue out at Sirius as he slipped, nude, from the bed and retrieved the old tome. The book opened to the section on the Veil and Harry ignored Sirius' mutterings from the bed…
"Harry. It. Doesn't. Fucking. Matter."
One thing was for certain, Hermione would be proud of him for needing hard evidence -- not just accepting things on blind faith alone. Harry's eyes scanned the page, hearing Sirius move from the bed to stand behind his chair. He leaned back against Sirius' hand, his eyes scanning the page. There had to be something else.
"That's strange," Sirius said, leaning over Harry's shoulder. He pointed at the page number of the book, printed in thicker writing than the rest of the page. "Where's that magnifying glass?"
Following Sirius' instruction, Harry pointed the glass at the bolded numbers. More bloody fine print. Whoever had written this book certainly had a sick sense of humour. Even with the glass, the words were minuscule and Harry had to struggle to read them.
The innocent man shall be returned to those he loves. If that love is reciprocated, the memories will be returned to the innocent. But only in the case of love.
"So?"
Harry tilted his head and stole a quick kiss. "You were right, it doesn't matter."
Sirius shrugged as if to say 'I told you so' and returned to bed. "Coming?" Sirius asked, giving Harry a look that clearly stated he meant the innuendo as opposed to if Harry was going to join him.
Perhaps there was something to that blind faith thing after all. With a smile, Harry closed the book for the last time and returned it to the book shelf. Unless anyone else had an unfortunate encounter with a set of drapes or fell victim to some other arcane form of execution, Harry had no intention of opening the book ever again. Hell, after the past couple of years, Harry had no intention of reading a book ever again. Harry sauntered across the room, licking his lips while he looked upon the man who laid in his bed. Six feet of rather lean, dark and handsome, sexy man.
Yum.
"So... so it's you?" Harry asked, sliding into the bed, facing Sirius and ran a hand along his cheek. His fingertips trailed along the skin, down his neck and across his upper arm. "You remember everything?"
Sirius nodded slowly. "Everything," he said with a smile. "I must have been a right prat for the past couple of months."
"It wasn't your fault. You had no memories of who I was."
"You put up with a lot."
"I have a feeling you'll be making it up to me."
Sirius smiled, dipping his head forward to nuzzle Harry's cheek. "Whatever you say, Peter."
"WHAT!?"
"Wrong time for a joke?"
"You bastard."
"Care to try to make me remember who I am again?"
Harry licked his lips and slid forward, tossing a leg over Sirius' thigh, bringing their half-hard cocks into alignment.