Title: Desperation and Defilement
Pairing: Sirius/Mrs. Black
Warnings: Non-Con, Masturbation, Language, Angst
Disclaimer: I am not her.
Boredom. Seconds ticked by into minutes. Minutes dragged on into hours. Hours into days. Those lonely hours spent in number twelve Gimmauld Place dragged on into lonely, quiet eternities. The mornings and evenings were bearable. Various members of the Order would stop by at breakfast and supper times bringing news of the outside world. Who's been captured? Who's been killed? Have any more muggles been attacked? Was there any news of Harry? Sirius Black hung on every word. The company and the conversation were far more nourishing that any meal shared in that dismal house. But there were jobs at the Minisrty to attend to and Molly had her children to take care of. Visits from Hogwarts staff were always brief. And Snape, even the sight of Sirius' childhood adversary was still a welcomed sight (though he would never admit it).
Remus was his most constant companion on the long dreary days, but even Remus had work to do for the Order and was showing up at the house less frequently. Lately, the house was only occupied by Kreacher, Buckbeak, and himself. When living on the lam, Buckbeak had been Sirius' only companion. Many lonely nights in the wilderness had been spent with Sirius curled in a furry ball, resting his paws on the hippogriffs powerful wings.
But now he and Buckbeak were in captivity, confined behind the walls that separated number twelve from all of humanity. In the wild, Buckbeak had been a magnificent animal: proud, free, and full of life. But months of being locked in an old bedroom had made him melancholic and restless. The once majestic creature forced to live like a domesticated house cat. The relationship of the man and beast dwindled to that of cell mates sharing living space. Both had great potential, both were dying to get free of the house, both had all the time in the world and nothing to do.
Sleep was a bittersweet escape for the prisoners. Sleeping passed time but one can only sleep so much. And when Sirius did sleep, his dreams were plagued by images of James and Lily being murdered, Harry in peril, or the Order being compromised. As hideous as the unconscious fantasies were, they were better than the living nightmare of the daily monotony that was waking life.
Life (if you could call it living) continued for Sirius. He woke in the morning and ate his breakfast with Buckbeak. He would bathe and fulfill the carious necessities of the toilet and change his clothes. After this, the day was wide open. Maybe he would play a prank of Kreacher. Perhaps he would check the drapes for any doxies to kill. 'What's the point?' He thought to himself at these moments. He changed into his animagus form. His fingers shrank to padded paws. His body itched as fur sprouted all over. In second his body had shrunk into the shape of a black, shaggy dog.
Out of habit, he scratched his ear with his hind leg. He trotted the length of the hall four times to check to see if anyone was watching. With his sharp canine ears he could hear Kreacher mumbling to himself upstairs. No one was around, no one could see him. Sirius rolled onto his back and shuffled slowly, spastically on the antique rug which ran the length of the hall. Oh, what pure animalistic bliss he felt to roll on a soft surface. How long he indulged in the pleasure of the roll, he did not know until he was startled back to an upright position at the sound of a disapproving grunt.
Sirius looked up and saw Kreacher at the end of the hall glaring. "Master Sirius allows hippogriffs in the bedroom, allows filthy Mudbloods to roam freely about the house, and now he himself behaves like a common dog. Master Sirius has turned the noble house of Black into a menagerie of defilement," rasped the house elf with venom dripping from every word.
Sirius changed back to his human form and towered over the elf. "A defilement?" He asked. "I have defiled this house, this wretched cracker box of a house?" He paused, embarrassment blushing his handsome face. He had not expected Kreacher to catch him rolling like a stray dog. Maybe it was his growing embarrassment, maybe it was his latent hatred for his own family, maybe it was pure boredom, but whatever the reason Sirius' answer shocked the miserable little elf. "Defilement, you say?" mocked Sirius again. "Oh Kreacher, I'll show you how much I care to defile the noble name of Black."
Sirius walked over to the wall where the portrait of his mother hung. Kreacher followed behind curious and fearful of what the master would do. Sirius gripped both folds of the tattered curtain and exposed the snarling face of his mother as she let out a piercing wail. Sirius reached down and removed the dragon hid belt, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter that was lost amongst the screams of the enchanted canvas. Sirius stripped off his pants and let them fall to his ankles. He hooked his thumb to the elastic band of his green satin boxers. With a swift downward tug, the undergarments joined the rumpled slacks on the floor. Mrs. Blacks portrait gasped.
There stood Sirius, with his flaccid uncut prick handing in space. His mind raced, searching for erotic thoughts to help him rise to the occasion. Images of naked witches filled his mind. Witches in stilettos, witches grinding against brooms, witches whose chest had suffered engorgement charms that went horribly right. Sirius' prick stiffened as blood unfurled the member to its full seven and a half magnificent inches crowned at the tip with a glorious mushroom shaped head. Sirius spat into his right hand and placed it at the base of his meaty shat. He pumped upward and felt on electric tingle of pleasure shoot through his prick from the piss-slit which freely drooled pre-cum to his large, swollen bullocks, full of the noble seed of Black.
The pace of his pumping quickened. His breathing grew hoarse. Kreacher hung his head in shame. Mrs. Black's portrait shouted threats to Sirius that were answered by a breathy, "Hmm, fuck yeah." His pumping grew furious as he let his left hand cup his bullocks that were full to bursting. He wasn't going to last much longer. With a shrill "Don't you dare," from the mortified face on the canvas, Sirius came. Thick white roped of cum shot from his prick and splattered the screaming painting.
Sirius lazily flicked away a strand of cum that dripped from his slit and tucked his still hard prick back into his trousers. "And that," he gasped to the house elf who had rushed to his mistress' aid, "is how much I care about this goddamn shit-hole of a house." With that said, he turned and sauntered to the back bedroom to check on Buckbeak. Finding the creature still asleep, he resumed his own animal form and nestled his soft body against the warmth and subdued power of the hippogriff.
"Filthy, disgusting, despicable animal! Disgracing, defacing my lady. Are you all right?" Asked Kreacher as he carefully dabbled up the seed that pooled at the bottom of the picture frame.
"Do not fear, my faithful servant," said Mrs. Black in an icy tone. "We will still have our vengeance. Come closer Kreacher, we mustn't be overheard." Slowly, quietly Mrs. Black whispered to the house elf. " You must injure that miserable flying horse's leg, so that way when that dratted Potter child shows his grimy face back in our fireplace you can …" And for the rest of the day, and far into the night, the house elf and his mistress concocted a plan. A plan to bring about the downfall of Sirius Black.