You've always joked that you take in strays. It's in line with your mission – treating others the way you'd like to be treated. They're usually good enough kids; quiet, respectable, sweet. But you know instinctively, from the moment your monseigneur brings Sirius in, that he's going to be different.
He's only got one bag for his things, and he's soaked through with sweat. You wonder how long he's been walking, trying to find a place that will take him in for the night. But given that it's the middle of July, any amount of time out in the heat is too much; in your opinion, at least.
You clear a space next to you on the couch and gesture for him to sit. Each of the priests in your rectory take turns asking Sirius questions – what brought him here, would he like anything to eat, did he have anyone he could go to, what was his family life like. He doesn't shrink away from the interrogation as much as some of the kids did, which is comforting.
"My family," he explains, "isn't really a family. They don't accept me. We disagree on a lot of things; eventually, I got fed up with it. So I left, and now I'm here…" He looks around the room, shrugging slightly. His gaze lingers just a bit longer on you. You try to give him a reassuring smile, but you're afraid it comes across more scrutinizing. He doesn't seem to mind, though, and flashes you a wink.
Rolling your eyes, you say, "Well, you can find a family here with us. You're welcome here as long as you need. I can show you up to the guest room, if you'd like? We can drop your things off before supper." He nods, picking his bag up and walking towards the only other door in the sitting room. On your way over, the monseigneur stops you, leaning in close.
"Can you have a word with him? He seems to trust you, just make sure he's alright."
"'Course," you whisper.
Sirius flashes you a smile as you turn back to him, then follows you upstairs. "You seem a bit young for a priest," he comments, his tone light, playful.
You give a dry chuckle and a half-smile. This only broadens his grin. "I'm probably about your age." Opening the door to the guest bedroom, you show him in and help him get settled. You talk for a while, about his home life and everything else. It's been a long time since you've had someone so close to your own age that you could talk to.
You spend your free time with him, sit with him at meals, talk in his room at night. While you're by no means secluded from other people, having someone like Sirius in the rectory with you is refreshing. You're definitely in no rush for him to leave.
.
Over the next week, you and Sirius grow very close. A few of the older priests have even taken to giving you curious looks when you're together. Sirius finds it funny, especially when you blush a deep, tomato-red every time. Fr. Macmillan passes the two of you standing outside Sirius's room one night after supper. "Nice that you two have become such good friends," he says. The delicate insinuation makes Sirius's lip curl into a smirk, but you nod and bid Macmillan a good night before Sirius can say anything.
When the hallway's clear, Sirius tugs you into his room by the front of your shirt, pushing you against the back of the door as it closes with practiced hands. He's peppering kisses across your cheeks, down your jawline to your neck. The very last thing you want is for him to stop, but then you remember who you are, where you are, the vows you've taken. You both know there's no hope in this, no possibility of any relationship forming here.
You know you should stop him.
"Sirius—" And something in the tone of your voice signals him to pull back. "I—we can't do this."
"Oh." His face falls, the passion deflates. "You don't want to. I—I get it, I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. Because," you sigh. "I do want to. But I shouldn't."
Sirius presses his lips together, giving you an understanding look. "But you do want to?"
You nod, a full list of prayers springing to mind that you'll be doing later, begging forgiveness for what may happen tonight. Because the more you look at Sirius, the more you watch his eyes light up as he looks at you, the more you feel your resolve slipping away.
The next thing you know, Sirius is pushing you down onto his bed. He's kneeling over you – an unholy and utterly gorgeous sight – and you know there's no hope for you. You undo Sirius's shirt, and he takes yours off in one fluid movement.
There's probably something symbolic in the white sheets beneath you, but as the thought crosses your mind, Sirius runs his tongue across your bare chest and he becomes all you can focus on. His hands are steadily creeping down over your abdomen, taunting your waistline. He looks at you, a hunger and intent clear in his eyes. Sirius waits until you meet his eyes. He raises an eyebrow, the shadow of a grin on his mouth. Then he's leaning into the curve of your neck, hot breath and frantic kisses making you weak. "If you want me to stop, just say so," he murmurs against your skin. It sends a chill down your arms and you reply without thinking.
"Don't you dare." Both of you notice how husky your voice has become, Sirius's push against you growing stronger. His hands slide back down to the button of your trousers. He hesitates for a moment, looking to you for permission. You nod, swallowing hard. In moments, you're naked and doing the same for Sirius. He kicks your clothes and the blanket from the bed, eyes dark and locked on yours. Denial is no longer an option, you realize. There's nothing left to hide behind. You pray that God is as forgiving as they say.
.
The next morning, you wake early. You need to clear your head, or at the very least, to find some direction. You get dressed and leave Sirius's room without making a sound. Entering the chapel, you're not surprised to find it dark. Your watch read 4:17 a.m. when you woke. Even your earliest-rising colleagues would still be sound asleep at this hour. You thank God for that.
You make your way around the room, lighting candles up on the altar. You navigate the space as though it's your own room, and it might as well be, given how much time you spend here. You haven't yet encountered a problem that couldn't be solved by enough prayer and quiet thought.
This one, however, may just do your head in.
There's a part of you that wishes you had never taken Sirius in, never given yourself the temptation. But you know that's a fool's wish. Facing temptation builds strength.
Giving into temptation is another story.
You kneel at the front of the chapel, favoring the floor itself over the padded kneelers. You need something to keep you grounded, remind you of how far you've come, what you have to lose.
Closing your eyes, you allow all of your actions to flood your mind. The temptation, the vows you took and the promises you made to yourself, to God. But as hard as you try to focus on anything, anything else, Sirius is the only thing on your mind.
You keep yourself there until past lunchtime. Your stomach begins to grumble – you consider it a form of penance. But the longer you kneel here, eyes closed and hands folded, the more you overthink the situation, the less capable you are of letting go. The more you blame Sirius, the more you regret your previous kindness. It's not helping anything. You shake your head, trying to clear your mind. "God help me," you mutter, half directed at God himself, half a mere plea for some form of help. "I haven't forgiven him yet." You sigh, pushing yourself up to standing before leaving the small chapel.
Sleep still hardens the corners of your eyes. You go down to the kitchen, and it's empty as well. Everyone else has already eaten lunch. The solitude is welcome, though. You're not sure you could face anyone right now, Sirius included.
Unfortunately, you can't avoid that encounter for long.
"Hey there, pretty boy," comes a whisper from right behind you. You jump, turning around and double-checking that no one else was in the room. Sirius smirks, and you close your eyes, trying to calm yourself down (and because you're not entirely sure you trust yourself around a smirking Sirius).
"Can you please not flirt with me in a public space?" you ask, dropping your voice to a whisper halfway through.
Sirius's grin widens, but he matches your volume. "I'm not flirting."
"Certainly sounds like it." You start making yourself a cup of tea and a sandwich, moving around Sirius with a practiced ease. You push away the thought that this is so domestic, that this could be how your life always is.
Sirius leans back against the counter, his grey button-down perfectly tailored to his body. You shake your head, wondering how many times you've had to redirect your thoughts from him today. Too many to count, you figure. "Remus—"
"Sirius." Your voice is short. You need to stop this now, before it gets any worse. "We should talk." He nods, and you lead him upstairs, leaving your tea and sandwich on the counter.
You stand outside the door to Sirius's room, hesitating for a moment as he goes inside. Taking a deep breath, you follow him in. He's sitting on the bed. He's left a spot for you, but you move to the other side of the room, taking a seat in the desk chair, putting as much distance between the two of you as you can.
"Sirius, we need to talk about what happened last night."
He sighs, scooting over to make room for you next to him on the bed. "Do we?"
"We do. You know I can't—if word got out to my congregation, I'd be—"
He takes your hands in his own. Your instinct is to pull away, to stop any further physical contact before it has the chance to get out of hand again. But his eyes keep you transfixed, so you don't budge. "You need to stop worrying so much. Being this paranoid about it all is just going to make it worse." You know he's right. You can't help it, really, but you try to take a breath and calm down. "Better. Look, Remus, you're great. I really like you." You chance another glance at his eyes, seeing the truth in his words mirrored there. A part of you wishes you hadn't looked – that you could pretend that this whole thing didn't mean anything to either of you. But you can't. "I get it, if you don't want this to turn into anything. It'd be a mess. All I'm saying is that I'm here for you, whatever you decide. If you want to see where this relationship takes us, I'm game. We can keep it a secret, no one needs to know. If you just want to be friends, that's fine, too." Sirius hesitates. "And," he adds slowly, as though he's questioning whether or not to even say it, "if you don't want to do that either, that's okay."
"I—" But you don't know what to say, not really. You never thought you'd have to make a decision like this. In the seminary, they don't teach you what to do about a one-night stand with someone you've developed feelings for. So you tell him, honestly. "I don't know what to do, Sirius."
He moves like he wants to pull you into a hug but stops himself before he does. "Okay."
You wish he had something more helpful to say, but he doesn't want to make the choice for you. You respect that. Or, at least, you tell yourself that you do. Because, honestly, you'd love it if Sirius could be your person, if he could help you with all of your problems and always be there for you. You'd love it if you could hold his hand out in the open, if you didn't have to check that the room was empty before you kiss him.
That's just not how life works. It's unfortunate.
"Can I just ask you to keep this between us. At least until I figure it all out." You bite your lip – a nasty habit, your mother had always said. You wonder what she'd say if she saw you now. "I'm not guaranteeing a future between us. I can't do that. I hope you understand."
Sirius nods. He's quiet for a long moment. You wonder what he's thinking, what he wants you to do. "If… If you want me to leave, to find another place to stay, I understand. I don't want to make this any harder for you."
His words shouldn't make you cry, but you feel the pinprick of tears building up behind your eyes. "Of course not," you murmur. "You can stay here as long as you need." He doesn't say anything more, so, after an awkward minute, you stand. "I'll let you know when supper's ready." Sirius watches you leave the room, an inscrutable look on his face.
.
You figure that if you're giving in to temptations, you may as well commit. An empty bottle of scotch rests on your bedside table, a clothes-less Sirius asleep in your bed. You still pray after every time – the way this week's been going, you'll have permanent carpet burn on your knees – you pray until it hurts, never stopping but merely pausing. You're growing accustomed to the knowledge that you'll be asking forgiveness again soon.
Sirius wakes, rolling over and watching you quietly from the bed. "I was just about to wake you," you murmur, just loud enough to be sure he can hear you. "It's getting late, you should get back to your room."
He glances at the clock, which reads just past midnight. "God, is that really the time?" Without another word, he dresses and makes his way over to the door. You sigh, wondering what will come of this mess you've landed yourselves in.
"Sirius, wait." He pauses, hand on the doorknob. "This was the last time. I can't keep doing this. Before, I thought I could go on with it, but I—I'm sorry," you say, noticing how his face falls. "But this time I'm certain. I need to follow my vocation, and this is disrupting that. I still care for you, Sirius." You say it slowly, emphatically, because you need him to know how strongly you mean it. "But I need to sort out my priorities. You're still welcome to stay with us, of course. Just… we need to keep to our own, separate bedrooms."
Sirius nods, looking more solemn and forlorn than you've seen him. He leaves the room, letting the door fall closed behind him.
.
A/N: Written for: Assignment 4 – Women's History Task 10: Write about a relationship that might be considered scandalous; Writing Club – Character Appreciation 30: (dialogue) "I'm not flirting"; Disney Challenge C6: Write about someone who wants the impossible; Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair 8: Secret; Book Club – Brian Thorn: (word) denial, (occupation) preacher, (dialogue) "God help me, I haven't forgiven him yet"; Showtime 7: (season) Summer; Amber's Attic 7: "I'm learning that everything doesn't always come back to you the way you send it. Sometimes, love is more brick and less boomerang"; Count Your Buttons D3: "Is that really the time?", P3: Remus/Sirius; Lyric Alley 2: You made a vow, never get mad; Ami's Audio Admirations 13: (setting) At night; Emy's Emporium 2: (theme) broken promise(s); Angel's Arcade 8: Rogue the Bat – (color) white, (action) smirking, (dialogue) "Hey there, pretty boy"; Lo's Lowdown C3: (word) instinct; Bex's Basement 1: Write about someone finding a new family when their own is useless; Film Festival 11: (plot point) Write about a one-night stand; Seasonal – Days of the Year – June 26: Write about forgiving someone, alt. Write about being forgiven; Shay's Musical Challenge 22: Write about star-crossed lovers; Gryffindor Challenge: Sirius Black, Impulsive; Slash September: Sirius Black; Fortnightly – Feline Fair 11: Write about a paranoid person; 365 Prompts – 105: (dialogue) "We need to talk about what happened last night"; Sewing 101 – F6: (object) Blanket, P3: (word) Family, C3: (color) Grey; Insane House Challenge 233: (AU) Priest; Writing Month wc 2568