Chapter 4
Dear Moony,
How are we supposed to have good, old-fashioned, romping summer fun without you? I know you said you wouldn’t, but I really think you should come back for the next moon. The parents are off visiting family in India for the first week of July and we’ll get the house all to ourselves.
Padfoot has been in a right strop since you argued. but I promise that he’ll behave himself. All we need is a rolled up newspaper and some doggy treats! You know he thinks the world of you, Moons, he’s just grumpy because of his stupid family. Cut him a little slack, will you?
Peter sends his love and he said that he will keep you well supplied in chocolate if you deign to bless us with your wolfish presence!
Lots of sticky kisses and hugs,
Prongs.
Mouth twitching into a smile, Remus pushed James’ letter aside to read the next, stacked beneath it on the old desk. A soft hoot echoed from his windowsill, where Kimble shifted back and forth on the ledge. She had refused to come any further into the room.
Dear Remus,
Come back to the Potters! Please! I can’t survive here without you, I think Prongs and Padfoot might be planning to turn me into a toad. I hate toads!
Peter.
P.S. I have chocolate.
There had been nothing from Sirius, no letter, no note, but that didn’t surprise Remus. He had snapped at Sirius, and he knew he shouldn’t have, because Sirius would never understand why. He wouldn’t be thinking past what he needed, what he wanted, he never did, he never had.
But Remus still remembered that look in Sirius' eyes when he had caught Remus with Caradoc Dearborn behind the greenhouses last year, the rigid set of his jaw, his clenched fists, the fucking terror of it all– Remus running after him and begging him not to tell anyone that he always had liked boys far more than he had ever liked girls. And Sirius had nodded, had promised, and they'd gone on pretending.
I need to not think, he'd whispered against Remus’ skin, all those weeks ago, like it was the answer to some old, forgotten question.
“Remus.” It was Hope, standing in his doorway, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “For goodness sake, will you get out of the house?”
Remus blinked at her, rubbing the back of his head. “What?”
“You’re sixteen! Go and see your friends!” Hope flapped her hands at him as if she were ushering away a bird or a cat from the dinner table. .
“Merlin,” Remus said, his brow furrowing as he looked away to push his letters into an orderly pile. “If you wanted to get rid of me so badly, you could have just said.”
“I am saying.” Hope smiled, very soft and very kind despite her blunt words, and turned to walk back downstairs before Remus could open his mouth to whine at her.
Sighing, he sank lower in his seat and stared aimlessly out of the window, past the agitated bob of Kimble's tawny head, at the bright, blue sky beyond. Sweltering heat trembled through the air, humming like a live wire, in his blood, through his veins.
Alright, he thought, fine.
*
This time, he caught the Knight Bus. It may have been less painful than Floo Powder, but he stood for a good few minutes in the road afterwards, bent double at the waist and struggling against the urge to throw up his breakfast in the hedgerows.
The bus had dropped him in the middle of a winding country lane, but in the distance, he could see the rising walls of the Potter Manor and the glimmer of the dark woods beyond, so he fastened his satchel to his shoulder and set in its direction, following the stretching power-lines. The day was sweltering hot, and by the time he had reached the Potter’s gravel driveway, lined with tall, trimmed pine-trees, he had stripped down to his long-sleeved shirt.
The brass lion that clenched the knocker in its mouth bared its teeth at Remus as he grabbed it to rap at the door and he drew back before it could bite at his fingers. When the door was wrenched open, Remus blinked at a rather pink Peter, whose vest was drenched in sweat, but when he saw Remus, his face split into a wide beam.
“Thank Merlin!” He snatched at Remus’ arm and dragged him inside, into the cooler hallway. Remus stumbled over the edge of the red carpet. “They’ve been looking through the new Charms school books and all the teacups have grown legs and wandered off! I think they’re going to turn on me next.”
“Moony! How you’ve grown!” James cried when Remus was pushed by Peter into the kitchen, but Remus was watching Sirius, whose head had snapped up to stare at him from across the room, where he sat in one of the high-backed chairs.
“Moony.” Before anyone else could say another thing, Sirius rose to his feet, his chair scraping against the terracotta tiles. Summer heat suited him, his cheeks were flushed a soft pink. “Can we talk?”
Remus dropped his bag next to the table and nodded. Pacing past him, Sirius led him out into the corridor once more, further through the house until James and Peter’s chatter faded away. The yellow-painted walls were lined with portraits of past Potters, old witches fanning themself and sleeping wizards in rocking chairs, and Remus wasn’t sure if he wanted James’ ancestors hearing their conversation.
“What is it?” Remus asked when Sirius had been silent for too long, his voice sharper than he would have liked.
"Listen, I--" Sirius paused, and he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, or where to put them. He rested back against the wall, his pink tongue darting out to wet dry lips. Loose blue jeans clung to his hips, his shirt riding up his waist. "I wanted to say sorry. I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to--"
"Only you could make apologizing this hard." muttered Remus, scuffing his shoe against the oak floorboards. "You'd think you were resisting fucking Imperio. James hasn't cursed you, has he?"
"Shut up." Sirius snapped, but it was more of a whine, and he stepped nearer. "Stop being such a dick and tell me how much you cherish me so we can go back to being merry little friends."
The steady tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway stuttered through their silence, the short black hand whirring as it spun around the face. Curtains fluttered against the open window, snapping at the fraying edges, but Remus could only look at Sirius, as how his teeth bit down on his bottom lip, how his hair curled at his neck from the stifling heat, how his collar was loose and stretched.
“Fine.” Fist twisting into the soft fabric of Sirius' crew-neck shirt, Remus dragged him so that they were pressed close and he could feel him breathing, feel the beat of his heart. He tried not to think about the portraits as he tilted his head and said, quietly– "I cherish you."
At first, their mouths were inches apart, the space between their skin hot and sharp and humming, and Sirius stared at him with dark, flickering eyes. He was not sure what line he was crossing, but if Sirius could do it, why couldn’t Remus? A smile curled at Remus lips, and he knew could have leaned forwards, could have bridged the waiting gap, could have done anything, but instead, he released his grip.
"Come on, then." He dug his hands into his trouser pockets and swivelled on his heel to pace back towards the low thrum of voices in the kitchen. The smell of brewed iced peach tea hung in the air, glimmering a deep orange from a polished glass jug. Peter sat with his feet up on the table, shuffling through his prized collection of chocolate frog cards with a furrowed brow.
"Kissed and made up, have you?" James looked up with a grin as Remus walked in.
Remus leaned against the kitchen counter to pour himself a glass of tea without glancing back at where Sirius now stood in the doorway. "You might say that."
He stretched for a discarded spoon to mix in the dregs that had settled at the bottom, but hissed through his teeth as a sharp burn stung at his fingers. Drawing back, he curled his hand into a fist with a soft curse. A shadow fell over him as Sirius reached over him to pick up the spoon himself and dipped it in to stir Remus’ tea.
“Silver.” He murmured in Remus’ ear, breath brushing his skin, the heat of his chest against his back. Pushing his tongue into his cheek, Remus twisted to meet his gaze and swept up his cup to take the first frozen sip. Over Sirius’ shoulder, he caught the darting of James’ eyes between them and slipped out from where he was pressed against the counter.
“Aren’t we going to the beach?” Remus asked.
*
They take the looping path down to the coast, through the same long-stemmed fields of wheat and thorn-filled bushes that Remus and Sirius had trudged the month before.
Heads bent together, James and Sirius walked ahead, shoving at each other's shoulders, while Remus and Peter trailed behind. Whereas Remus’ hip was aching again, Peter had been lugged with the bag, which was stuffed full of sandwiches, chocolate, flasks of pumpkin juice and blankets.
“You’re staying for the moon, aren’t you?” Peter huffed as they picked their way through a patch of downward sloping trees. Up ahead, James threw back his head in roaring laughter and stuck out his foot to trip Sirius, who tripped into a hedgerow. A large, familiar, black dog leaped out of the brush and bounced up at James, slobbering all over his jeans.
“Yeah.” Remus said, watching as Padfoot raced back and forth, tail wagging. “But I’ll go back home after that. It’s my mam’s birthday next week.”
“Right. Well.” Peter sighed. “We’ll miss you. Sirius gets in such a bad temper when you’re not here.”
Remus frowned. “He’ll be fine.”
Steps wound down a steep cliff to the plane of white sand below, and only a few other people lingered on the beach, but Padfoot wasted no time dashing in dizzying circles around their ankles, yapping. Remus settled down next to the messy heap of their towels and shed clothes and flipped to his page in his book, an old Dickens novel he had found in the Potter’s expansive, dusty library.
At the edge of the shore, where white rolls of water crashed down, Peter had paddled up to his knees, watching wistfully as James plunged into the depths, resurfacing with his black hair plastered to his forehead. He had swum out beyond where the waves broke, and soon, Padfoot bolted after him, diving into the blue ocean and resurfacing as Sirius, a glittering, grinning God, all cheekbones and broad shoulders. Remus had to stare down at his page again, his heart thumping.
“Come in, Moony!” James called to him over the rushing of the waves, sweeping an arm high.
Remus licked at his bottom lip, and stood, dusting sand off his swimming shorts and glancing up the stretch of the beach. There were still a few lingering strangers.
The cold wash of the sea was a relief from the heat burning at the back of his neck. Remus waded past Peter, who was bent over, peering into the shallows at the small crabs that darted behind the rocks.
Once he’d walked deep enough, he dived into the water and let it surge up around him, over his head. His eyes stung like hell when he opened them, but it was quieter, no seagulls squawking, no gorgeous boys, no unforgiving sun.
When Remus drifted back up to the outside world, he was face to face with Sirius. Sirius smiled at him, kicking his legs to tread water, but then his gaze flickered down to where Remus’ soaked long sleeved shirt still clung to his arms, and his brow furrowed.
“Aren’t you boiling?” He asked.
“Can’t take it off.” Remus muttered, blinking prickling salt out of his lashes. He could still only just touch the bottom of the ocean. “Don’t want to ruin the scenery.”
Sirius shoved him in the chest, and although light, Remus swallowed down water, coughing into his elbow as Sirius fixed him with a dark, furious glare.
“You’re so thick sometimes, Remus.” Sirius snapped at him. “My own mother mauled me and I’m not dressing up like a nun, am I?”
Remus sighed and tipped his chin back to glower up at the blazing sun. “Fuck off.”
He gasped as a splash of icy water hit him square in the face and he scrabbled for Sirius’ arm to drag him under the surface. Kicking him in the shin, Sirius grinned and struggled against him until Remus had no choice but to release him.
Beneath the waves, down in the blue, murky, depths, Sirius’ hair floated around his head like a dark, vengeful crown, his honeyed skin glowing, silver eyes flickering open to stare at Remus. His palm lifted to graze Remus’ cheek, and Remus almost couldn’t look at him, it was too painful, so he pulled away and pushed up. The scorching air hit him again and Sirius reappeared a moment later, his gaze hard and jaw clenched.
“Oi!” James had swum over to install himself as a barrier between their bodies. The lenses of his askew glasses were flecked. “Behave yourselves!”
“Moony just tried to drown me.” Sirius muttered.
“You deserved it.”
Swimming hollowed out their stomachs, and by the late afternoon, the four of them paddled to the shore, sand sticking to their wet skin as they trudged towards their pile of clothes. Sirius lounged back against his towel, a shirt draped over his eyes, humming something that sounded like the Hogwarts school song underneath his breath. The two gashes marking his bare chest had faded since last month, starting to weave into white scars across his ribs.
Flicking his book open, Remus chewed down on a cheese sandwich, glancing up occasionally at James and Peter, who were attempting to construct a sand castle with elaborate turrets and a deep moat.
For half an hour, Sirius was silent enough that Remus thought he must have fallen asleep, but as the sun was setting, he stirred, stretched his arms with a low groan, and stood. Remus nearly choked on pumpkin juice when Sirius seized his wrist in iron-strong fingers and hauled him to his feet.
“I’m going to show Moony the coves.” Sirius said.
Peter’s head snapped up, his teeth bared in a bright beam. “Can I come?”
Sirius paused, his grip tightening on Remus. “No.”
“Come on, mate,” James said, throwing an arm around Peter’s slumped shoulder and fixing Sirius with a look of motherly disapproval. “My dad reckons there’s a Hippocampus somewhere around these parts.”
Shrugging, Sirius headed off towards the dark swells of rising rocks, leaving Remus to fall into his stride. It was cooler now, with streaks of orange cutting across the horizon, marked by straggling clouds, and the four of them were the only people left on the beach.
“That wasn’t very nice.” Remus noted, looking over at Sirius as they walked.
“Well,” Sirius mumbled, his gaze anchored forwards, and he sniffed. “I wouldn't have wanted Prongs to come either. Besides,” A smile twitched at the edges of his mouth and he finally met his gaze. “Don’t act like you’re some sort of saint. We both know that’s just a little wolfy act.”
“There’s nothing wolfy about it.”
The entrance to the coves was cast in shadow, and the receding tide still spilled in through cracks and gaps as they picked their way over the sand and pebbles and into the darkness. It was a winding complex of tunnels and trickling water, and the sun had found no home here, a cold draft brushing over them as Remus followed Sirius through until there was no one else to go, where the rocks narrowed into a nook. The whispers of the ocean swarmed in the air, rumbling in the distance like an old, forgotten tune, and it all smelled like seaweed and brine.
The craggy roof was too low for Remus to stand without his spine aching, so he sat down on the soft sand scattering the hard floor of the cave. Sirius remained on his feet, still and quiet, and stretched out a hand to touch the far rock wall. Through the dim light, Remus squinted to see that something, shapes, letters, had been carved there, into the stone.
“S.B.” Remus read aloud, gazing at where the initials had been etched, jagged and messy, but clear enough. He smiled and rested on his elbows, warm and tired and fond. “Sirius Black?”
“I wanted a piece of me here even when I was stuck in Grimmauld Place.” Sirius said, and he twisted around to look down at where Remus lay. “It sounds stupid.”
“It’s not.” Remus told him. “You belong here, anyway.”
When Sirius dropped down to his knees in front of him, Remus’ lungs tightened, squeezing smaller. There was something in Sirius’ eyes, like a fever, as he pushed Remus back into the wet sand by his shoulders, leaning over him, and just like that, nothing else mattered.
And Sirius was lowering his head, his dark curls dripping in a halo as he kissed Remus, licking into his mouth, soft, strong, sweet. He kissed and kissed and kissed him, like he wanted to consume him, like he could never get enough. Refused breath, Remus slipped an arm around his neck, pulling him down closer as if by banishing the little space left between them, the deep, frenzied hunger rolling in his chest would be sated. But Sirius did not stop the swift bite of his teeth, the flick of his tongue, until Remus writhed beneath him, the world spinning, spinning, spinning.
"Can't--" Remus broke away to gasp, and he's panting like he's been trapped underwater. Sirius gazed down at him, his irises blown an ink-blot black, lips red and slick with saliva. "Can't breathe."
He thinks he would give up breathing for this. Catching the hem of Remus' still damp shirt in his grip, Sirius yanked it up over his head, dropping it to one side.
"What are you doing?" Remus whispered into the silence that followed, over the crash of waves against rock, his voice hoarse and barely there. He could still taste him, suncream and salt and chocolate.
"Your shirt was wet." Sirius said.
Remus swallowed, but the lump in his throat stayed like a weighing stone. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he glanced downwards. "So are my shorts."
He could feel Sirius pressing down onto him, hot and heavy, their hips slipping together, edge of bone against bone. And Sirius reached out with shaking fingers to trace his bottom lip, ever so slowly, smoothing it with the calloused pad of his thumb. His familiar grin was gone, as if it had never existed, cheeks flushed pink.
Then, Sirius was kissing down his chest, open kisses that grazed his fluttering ribs and taut stomach, over the pale, red tear of his scars. Sighing, Remus’ eyes flickered closed and he turned his face into the white sand as Sirius’ teeth bit at his soft inner thigh. His swimming trunks were peeled back from his warm skin. And, without warning, hot, burning hot, Sirius’ mouth was on him, wet tongue coiling down to the hilt of his cock.
"Shit." He breathed, stiffening instantly, his hips bucking upwards into the heat against his own will. Somehow, he hadn't expected it.
His fingers crept down to wind themselves in his hair, tugging at the roots. He could feel Sirius’ trembling hesitation in the way his hand gripped at his bent knee, but it was still fucking gorgeous, the way his fingers curled, how his lips slid, the soft noises he was making, that echoed over and over again.
Remus breathed, deep, slow, trying to push some sort of rhythm out of his lungs, so that he didn't lose his thread of thought and thrust up again. A clenching heat sparked in at his navel as Sirius dragged his rough tongue along the tender underside of Remus' cock, before sucking hard at the head, keen, fierce.
Trembling, he bit at his cheek because he'd nearly said it, out loud: I fucking love you. I love you I love you I love you.
He wasn't an idiot. Sirius did not love him. Love was not what this was, it would never be what this was. This was Sirius, desperate and reckless and frustrated, and Remus, compliant and selfish and greedy for every part of Sirius he could have.
It’s strange, how his own voice rang off the cove’s walls as he moaned, consumed by Sirius’ mouth, by the sharp sting of Sirius’ nails digging into his thigh, flushing hot when Sirius took him too deep and choked. His grip tightened on Sirius’ locks, knuckles clenching white. It was too much, Sirius bearing down on him faster, faster, and he looked so fucking beautiful between Remus’ legs.
"Sirius." Remus panted, the muscles of his shoulders and neck tensing with the sudden tear of his orgasm up his spine, too soon. "Fuck, I'm going to--"
His spine arched up and he came, with a gasp, into Sirius' mouth, who coughed and pulled back. Through heavy, half lidded eyes, he watched the swallow of Sirius' throat, hardly believing he'd actually-- that he would--
“Sorry.” Sirius murmured, quiet, wiping his reddened lips with his wrist, and for some reason, he wouldn't look at Remus, his sharp gaze darting away. Maybe he had had enough of this, whatever this was, maybe he was afraid.
Heart twinging with a strange pain, Remus struggled to sit up and shift forwards, knees bruised by the rock floor. "Do you want me to--"
"James will be wondering where we are." Sirius cut through his question before he could ask it, and rose to his feet, his head scraping the ceiling. Blinking, Remus reached for his discarded trunks and tugged them back on.
He dug his hands in his pockets and kicked at the sand, watching it scatter over the weather-worn rocks. It didn't help, so he followed Sirius out through the cove's narrow opening.