I am the most genius person in the history of the everything, Sirius thinks, grinning ridiculously.
The Map really was Sirius' idea. James likes to take credit for it, loudly and frequently and usually when Evans is around, but Sirius thought of it first. There are only so many ways one can play-off being caught with one's trousers undone, and Sirius had, by sixth year, blown through them all. Particularly where Madame Pince was concerned. For all her terrifying, Devourer of Souls stares, even Sirius had to admit she'd been a rather good sport about it, but at some point, she was going to start taking names or photographs or something, and then things could have got messy.
Fortunately, The Map makes things much more manageable. In fact, it takes all the fun out of getting off in a dusty old library in the first place. Well, perhaps not all the fun. And having The Map with them makes Moony much more relaxed, a quality Sirius has found he rather enjoys in Remus. Actually, the Cloak is really the best way to convince Moony to just bleeding calm down because no one is going to catch us, you nancy, but stealing it too often is likely to make Prongs suspicious, and besides, when Sirius went to nick it earlier it wasn't in Prongs' trunk. Sirius figured it was lodged under a bit of furniture somewhere, but the tricky thing about Invisibility Cloaks is that they're bloody difficult to find, so Sirius settled for just The Map.
Invisibility cloaks are really spectacular, James thinks absently, his mouth curving into a grin without permission. He resolves to invest more thought later in the goodness of all things invisible-making, but for now he is content to invest solely in the fact that Lily has, for some blessed, unfathomable reason, decided to undo his belt buckle.
The absolute wonderfulness that is being trapped beneath a suffocating cloak with Lily Evans in the first place is not to be underestimated. It's enough to make James worry constantly that it's all a great cosmic cock-up, and that one day he's going to wake up with turquoise skin or no fingers or something, just to even things out (not that he'd mind, so long as Lily was comfortable kissing a funny-colored, fingerless bloke). But now this, this random, unprovoked belt-and-now-trouser unfastening, this is bound to be a mistake. Surely, some deity is having a laugh, or asleep on the job, because as far as he can recall, James has never slain any gorgons or saved a load of babies from certain doom, or anything to make him worthy of Lily doing—oh god, she really is doing that.
"Nggghhkk!" James says.
"Yes?" Lily whispers calmly against his cheek. Her breath smells like flowers, which is absurd, unless she's actually been eating flowers (in which case it's disgusting), but nonetheless it persists in doing so, against all logic to the contrary.
"You—I—nggghhkk!" James repeats, for clarity's sake.
"James, I'm not sure what you're trying to say, but I don't think it's Lily, would you please remove your hand from my pants, so I'm just going to kiss you now, until you shut up."
And she does. James shuts up.
Libraries, Remus thinks pitifully, are sacred places of books and studying and knowledgy things. This is sacrilege. We should be flayed alive.
"Siirrriiuuusss..." Remus hisses. There is an exceptionally pointy book about the proper disposal of nargles digging into one of his vertebrae. He twists away from it and almost falls over. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Sirius has him at the waist and also at the shoulders, making falling over nearly impossible.
Sirius looks up, all wide-eyed and innocent. "Yes, Moony?" He lilts. Remus never imagined someone could actually lilt, outside of old muggle films, but Sirius manages it. It's sickly sweet and absolutely repulsive, but also a little nice.
"Sirius, this is not ok. This is simply... not ok. There are a million dark corridors in this school, and yes, yes, the tongue thing is very nice, but I'm talking so, so please, please stop, and what was I saying?"
"Something about my tongue," Sirius murmurs, momentarily extracting said tongue from that spot where Remus' jaw and ear connect, the one that makes him go all wonky in the knees.
"Yes. No, no, before that, stop that. This is a library, Sirius, have you any idea what that means?" Remus whispers as loudly as he dares.
The library is closed, and has been for half an hour, at least, but it was open when Remus came in. To study. Because that's what he needs to be doing right now, not this. This is not going to be on the NEWTs. This is not going to earn him marks in any subject, except perhaps Marauding, but even that is debatable, since they'll probably be too busy mourning Prongs' tragic death-by-head-collapse once they tell him what they've been getting up to while he's off getting up to whatever Lily will allow.
I used to have a brain, Lily thinks idly. It worked quite well and kept me from doing things like this. I wonder what's happened to it. Probably something to do with love. Bugger.
There is a slight vibrating sound, and Lily realizes it's James' hands shaking violently, rattling the books. She wants to grab hold of them and tell him to calm down and that it's just her, just them, and that there's nothing to get so worked up about, but at the same time, she sort of wants him to get a bit worked up. It's rather flattering.
"Shhh." She lets the sound sort of blow against his earlobe, which doesn't help with the shaking and whatnot, but it does make James stop biting his lip so hard it might fall off.
Lily has the utmost respect for libraries. They are lovely, dusty places, full of things one might learn. One might not ever bother learning them, but still it's comforting to know they're there. However, there are only so many ways of convincing Peter, Sirius, and Remus to leave them alone in the dormitory. Well, not so much Remus, as he tends to have some sense of decorum and usually excuses himself without much fuss. And Sirius too lately, Lily admits, has gotten in the habit of following Remus' lead, which is unfathomable, since Sirius' stated goal in life is to make as much of a nuisance of himself as magic will allow. He even said so at careers advising.
Maybe he's decided to honor James' right to "get laid," as he always puts it. Or maybe Sirius and Remus...
Lily giggles.
"What was that for?" James whispers urgently.
"Nothing, dear. We can talk about it later," says Lily, suppressing a smile.
"No! No, you don't laugh with your hand on a bloke's nob and then talk about it later. What's got into you? I haven't changed the equipment since the last time you saw it!"
Lily sighs irritably. Boys can be so exceptionally dense.
"Fine. We can talk about it now, if you'd like."
"Alright."
"Or."
"Or?"
"Or you can help me take off these tights. They're all wooly and itchy and in the way."
"Tights. Right. On it." And James seems to forget what he was so concerned about.
"Siriuuuussss," Remus hisses.
Sirius responds by biting down harder on Remus' shoulder. There will be a bruise in the morning, black and deep, but certainly no more obvious than any of Remus' assorted moon-related injuries. Sometimes, Sirius feels like he is competing with the moon. Of course it steals Remus away once a month, but it's more than that. It's always there, in scratches that don't heal quite right, and bruises that never seem to fade. It calls out for the wolf in the nights just before the full, nights like this one, and pulls at his blood like the tide. It pulls Remus' eyes upward into the darkened sky, pulls his mouth downward into a grimace.
Instinctively, Sirius grips Remus a little tighter, holds him a little closer, and Remus sighs, low and rough. Tonight, the moon has no claim on him. Tonight, he belongs to Sirius.
"James, the chair, be careful," Lily mutters distractedly.
It's nice to hear her distracted. Normally, she's like a hawk or a goblin or something else that's very, very concentrated on what it's doing, but unfasten her bra and for some reason she completely loses focus.
James kicks the chair aside and lifts Lily by the hips onto the table. In one graceful motion, she lets her shirt fall from her shoulders and her legs wind around his waist, and it takes James a moment to remember that he's allowed to be staring at her like this, and that she's not going to punch him in the mouth if he touches her.
She has the most absurd freckles, in weird locations, all over her body. There's one on her stomach, just above where her skirt sits, and a small, faint one on her left breast, over her heart. James has been making a concerted effort to memorize them, but it's complicated by the fact that any time they're visible, Lily is mostly naked, which is rather distracting.
James leans forward slowly and presses his lips to her collarbone. It's sharp white and impossibly warm. Her hair smells like fruit, and her fingers on the back of his neck feel like home. An Encyclopedia of Magical Maladies falls off the table with a resounding thump!, but then Lily shifts towards him and lifts her hips and, after they fumble for a moment, James loses the ability to think.
"Remus," Sirius murmurs, crushing Remus against him. His left arm winds around Remus' ribs, while his right hand busies itself with Remus' zipper.
A dull thump rings out somewhere, a few sections away, but Remus ignores it. He's become hyper-aware of every little sound, as though the wolf were listening instead of the boy. He heard a button pop off, a moment ago. A little plasticky plink sound, as Sirius pulled his shirt apart with one hand and no forethought. It's probably gone forever, lost in the dark crevices of learning, but now Sirius is doing something truly obscene with his hand against the front of Remus' trousers, and Remus decides that there will be other buttons. Or not. Whatever. It doesn't matter, because Sirius has finally, finally, managed to undo Remus' trousers, and all Remus can think about is the fact that at some point this became normal for them, despite the fact that Remus never imagined this could be normal for him at all, much less for him and Sirius. But Remus is unremittingly thankful that Sirius had no such misconceptions.
Without asking, Sirius pushes Remus' trousers and pants down past his hips, and Remus opens his mouth to say something about presumptuous gits who ought to be more patient, but the only noise that comes out is a little aahhh sound, followed by a series of staccato nhhgs, like sharp exhalations tinged with overwhelming happiness.
Somewhere along the way, Sirius got his own trousers off, so they're both naked from the knees up, and Remus closes his eyes at the feel of Sirius' skin pressing against his own, warm and solid and smooth. Remus' scars, the ones he never remembers getting, trace a map across his torso, made up of narrow, faded lanes and jagged, raised highways, piecing together the stories James and Sirius and Peter tell him on bright, sore mornings in the hospital wing. But Sirius' flesh, his bones and his rising, falling chest, they fit against Remus so perfectly that their skin seems to melt together, creating some new, lovely creature where two misfits once were.
"Lily, Lily, Lily, Lily," James chants softly against her forehead.
His lips brush her skin with every syllable, and his breath is hot and damp. There is something so unbelievably right about this that it justifies the complete absurdity of the book pressing into her thigh, and the dust old-paper smell that almost overpowers the scent of James' skin (sweat and soap and boyishness). It's perfect, the unsteady collision of their hips and the sloppy wetness of their lips. Though she always considered it a needlessly graphic expression, Lily thinks this must be what people mean when they talk about heads spinning.
"I love you, Lily Evans, I really—ahh—really, really, really, do," James stutters mindlessly.
His eyes are shut tight and Lily can't help but smile at how young he looks, which is illogical, perhaps, given what they're doing, but his face is so bright and relaxed that he resembles a child caught up in the wonder of getting exactly what he wants.
"I love you too, James Potter. I don't know why, but I do. I really, really do," she says, mostly to herself.
James opens his eyes, just for a moment, and smiles, saying, "I'm glad."
And then he kisses her. And then it's Lily's turn to shut up.
"Oh!" Sirius says quietly. He twists his hips and they both get caught in their trousers for a moment, but now Remus has managed to wriggle a hand in between their bodies and Sirius can only think in monosyllabic words.
Faster and then slower and then arhythmically, their hips grind together, urged on by the damp friction of Remus' palm. Sirius can't imagine how this could be any more perfect, unless there was a bed involved. But no, this is still better, because even though he knows his back is going to kink up from leaning at such a weird angle, and even though there is a shelf digging into his elbow, Remus is whispering his name, over and over, like a prayer, and it's more affecting than any obscene moan or scream could ever be. Sirius feels the sharp pressure of Remus' teeth against his shoulder and the desperate pull of Remus' fingers in his hair, and Sirius is done for. His knees quake violently and his lungs stop working, and for a moment, he knows that Remus doesn't belong to him, or to the moon, or to anyone. Remus is the one in possession of Sirius' every breath and thought and feeling. His hold is so complete that it would be terrifying, were it not so wonderful.
I'd die without this, Sirius thinks in awe-struck terror. But then Remus breathes his name again, and Sirius decides he doesn't give a damn.
"Ahhhh." James shudders.
Lily's legs are like a vice around his waist, drawing him in and drowning him in a flood of sensations so perfect he's afraid he might cry or something equally embarrassing. But what could be more embarrassing than this? This complete and utter dependence on a girl so strong and solid that he feels like mush when he touches her. And what's worse, Lily makes it seem ok to be so pathetic. It's sickening. Sirius would shake his head in disgust.
Lily shuts her eyes and lets her head fall back, copper hair grazing the tabletop as her lips move silently. James feels her tremble and tighten around him, holding him there, urging him on as her pulse quickens and her fingernails dig into his shoulder. And then James can't stand it any longer either, and his motions grow erratic as the sound of his own heartbeat thuds in his ears. Like a flash of heat lightning, James feels his whole self fall apart, save for Lily's eyes and Lily's body holding him together, keeping him alive. Lily stares at him, calm and heated at once, and James falls forward against her, his head coming to rest against her chest like a child's.
I didn't mean to need her this much, James thinks contentedly as Lily's fingers tangle in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. It feels like he should be concerned, but her hands siphon away all traces of self-preservation, and her breath reminds his lungs to keep breathing.
"Ow," Remus says.
With the weight of Sirius' body against his chest, he sinks slowly to the ground. The floor is probably disgusting, but, he decides, not nearly as disgusting as the fronts of their trousers. Sirius is nuzzling into his shoulder, dog-like and warm. Remus sighs. A book fell on his head a moment ago, but he's fairly sure his brain was throbbing anyway, what with all the blood rushing back to it, so it's probably alright.
This should be very uncomfortable, what with the stickiness and the dampness and Sirius' hair getting in his mouth, but Remus doesn't care in the slightest. In fact, moments like this have ruined him for all other comforts, even chocolate. Chocolate, even hot chocolate, doesn't make his stomach feel quite so warm and full. It doesn't make his skin feel so new, and it certainly doesn't make his chest feel so tight. And it's hard to tell if this is good or not, this comfort-ruining haze, but Sirius seems to enjoy it, and Remus has known for many years that he will do anything to make Sirius happy (he just didn't realize until recently how happy Sirius could make him).
Remus sighs quietly.
I hope he understands what it means that I have just desecrated a library. I really hope he understands, Remus thinks, a slight frown worrying the corner of his mouth. But Sirius' hand clasps the back of Remus' neck, and Sirius' lips find the bridge of Remus' nose, and Remus decides that perhaps he doesn't give Sirius enough credit.
"Hmmm..." Lily breathes. It's a soft humming sound, and the only noise she feels capable of making.
James is practically lying of top of her as she runs her fingers through his hair, trying to tame it but making it messier by the minute. The sweat cooling on her stomach makes her shiver, but James' skin is warm and wonderful. He is quiet, which is odd, but not bad odd. She suspects she is the only person that gets to see him like this, all silent and contented. He spends so much of his time rushing from one thing to the next, never satisfied with anything because, she secretly believes, he's never quite satisfied with himself. Sirius hardly helps the situation, but then Sirius is perhaps the most confused person she's ever met, with scarlet Gryffindor blood in his Black Slytherin veins. Maybe Remus understands this. Maybe. And Lily sighs again.
A clock chimes somewhere in the castle and James twitches but doesn't sit up. It's just as well. Lily can't really feel her legs yet anyway.
If he knew how satisfied I am with him, Lily thinks absently, he'd be completely insufferable. So she says nothing, but she does bow her head and press her lips to the part of his hair. James smiles against her skin and waits for her to get tired of him.