Harry Potter (Sirius/Remus)
Title:
I Solemnly Swear
Author:
GuiltyRed
Rating:
PG13 – for teenboi moments
Warnings:
Marauders-era nostalgia
Word
count:
1425
Summary:
Friendship, boundaries, and dedication are tested and found to be as
solid as the loyalty of a good dog.
Prompt:
September
2 – #11. Harry Potter, Sirius/Remus: Bondage - "I've been
missing you."
Sirius swallowed nervously and wiped blood from his forehead. That monstrous, ill-tempered plant had taken a swipe at him that, were the willow full-grown, would have separated head from shoulders. Now, hurrying through the tunnel that the tree guarded, the young wizard-in-training found his imagination conjuring all sorts of things at journey's end.
He'd been wondering where his friend Remus had gone off to, as another round of assignments came due and the fourth part of their intrepid band vanished without so much as a never-you-mind. This had become rather a habit, and, as neither Peter nor James had the most legible of handwriting, losing their primary note-taker on a regular basis was not a habit the Marauders could well endure. This time, Sirius had managed to tail Remus as far as the hospital wing before the trail had gone cold; then, on chance, he had looked out the window only to see a well-bundled Madam Pomfrey, with many a cautious backwards glance, chivvying a smaller figure across the grounds toward the murderous shrub itself.
With Remus missing, Peter buried under homework, and James – for once – in detention by himself, Sirius had no choice but to borrow James' cloak and sneak out to do a little Marauding on his own.
Ahead, the air shivered with a screeching sound rather like an undead owl might gag out as it tore a rat to pieces.
Sirius swallowed again. He clutched the Invisibility Cloak a little tighter and forged ahead, his mind spinning images of increasing weirdness to entertain itself in the noisy dark. He'd seen some bizarre stuff in the Black household, stuff that looked like medieval torture implements and magazines that seemed to show innovative uses for such; usually said magazines featured slender, naked women with large, pouty breasts, and they didn't seem to be screaming so much as moaning.
He'd taken one hell of a beating from his mother when she found him reading those. Somehow, that only embellished the experience.
He wondered if it were Remus making all that noise, and if so, why? Was he the unwilling plaything for twisted wizards who preferred for their victims slender young boys rather than buxom wenches?
A willing plaything, perhaps?
Sirius rubbed his trouser-fly absently. If this was a rescue mission, he had no business thinking with his dick; still, he couldn't deny that the thought of his shy friend trussed and vulnerable sent a powerful message to his budding hormones.
The sounds of torment echoed around him, drifting down from what seemed to be the underside of a building just overhead. In front of him, a ramshackle door stood askew on its hinges: it looked likely to come crashing down if he so much as sneezed.
As his hand reached for the doorknob, two things happened. A particularly guttural cry split the night, and Sirius felt his courage fail so completely he would have wet himself if he hadn't been sporting a stiffy. Defeated, he sank to the ground and hugged his knees to his chest, invisible within the Cloak yet still wishing to vanish from the world in a more permanent fashion.
How long he sat there, he couldn't say. Something about the air or the light roused him with the promise of morning.
Everything was quiet.
Wiping his nose on his sleeve, Sirius gathered his tattered nerves and opened the door. His feet followed a well-worn pathway through the dust, leading him to a small, gritty room.
Remus lay curled up on the floor beside a large four-poster bed. Sturdy chains bound his wrists and ankles to the heavy wood. Pale skin streaked with paler scars gleamed bare in the dim morning light.
Sirius felt a touch at his shoulder and bolted forward with a yelp. Turning, he angled his body to shield his helpless friend even as he sized up the opposition – and found it as daunting as it was unexpected.
Albus Dumbledore gazed mildly down at him as though seeing right through the Cloak.
Sirius opened and closed his mouth repeatedly like a beached trout before choking out the question, "What the hell is going on?"
"Ah, but I think you already suspect the truth," Dumbledore murmured in his typically bland way. "Can I trust you to get him back home safely?"
"Are you some kind of pervert, then?" Sirius demanded, his anger running hot. "Chaining him to the bed for fun?"
"Hardly fun, Sirius," Dumbledore admonished. He stepped around Sirius and knelt beside Remus, one hand checking the temperature of the boy's forehead while the other magicked away the shackles. "I can't stay today, so I'm afraid you'll just have to figure things out on your own. Don't worry, you're a sharp lad. Do blend in with the others on your way back, it's so much easier than dealing with the Whomping Willow."
Dumbledore's words sank in slowly. That's right, today was the trip to Hogsmeade: James had made certain they all knew how much he'd sacrificed to cover for them when he'd found out he'd be missing it.
A small sound brought Sirius' attention back to Remus himself. Faint bruises faded from his skin even as Sirius watched, but before the questions found breath, Dumbledore had vanished and with him the answers. Pulling off the cloak, Sirius hurried to his friend's side and, on impulse, draped the cloak inside-out over him. Remus and cloak remained visible, though the former was hopefully a tad warmer for the effort.
"Sirius?" Remus' voice sounded raspy, as though he'd been crying – or screaming. "What are you doing here?"
Sirius blurted the first thing that came to mind. "I've been missing you. When you've been gone."
Remus gaped at him, then reached for the edge of the cloak.
Sudden understanding flooded Sirius, and he grappled with his friend, unwilling to let him just take the cloak and vanish with it. They rolled across the dusty floor, visible and invisible in turns, until they ended with Remus securely tangled and pinned beneath the other's greater weight. "Every month," Sirius growled, "every moon, you come here, don't you? I saw Madam Pomfrey, last night. I've been trying to follow you since last year, and only just managed. Why, Re? Why didn't you tell me?"
"What, that I'm a werewolf?" Remus snarled back. "Oh, fine bloody way to cement a friendship, thanks for that, I'll remember it next time! Now let me go!"
"No way, mate. Once a Marauder, always a Marauder." Sirius gazed down into his friend's wounded eyes, felt the tension in his slender frame, and felt something unplanned for coursing through his own body. He licked his lips, then leaned down and clumsily kissed Remus on the cheek. "I still like you, Re, even if you're a stupid git."
"Not, 'even if you're a monster'?" Remus whispered, hope and shame warring in his tone.
"Not that, or even though you're likely to get better grades than all the rest of us," Sirius replied with a barking laugh. "If you let me, I'll stay by you next month. The others would too, but I won't tell them unless you want me to. You're safe with me, no matter what happens."
Remus relaxed beneath him, a tiny smile playing across his lips. "I guess Professor Dumbledore was right, then." As Sirius gaped stupidly, Remus explained, "Last night, before I came here, he told me that I would have to find a better guardian than himself soon. He told me not to worry, that he had the perfect one in mind. He even sent a present for you, it's underneath my clothes."
"Promise not to bolt if I let you up?"
"I solemnly swear," Remus murmured. "I will never run from you."
Sirius got up and padded over to the pile of clothing lying in the corner. He picked it up and brought it back to a grateful Remus, who began donning it with the careful movements of the very sore. A small parcel separated itself from the clothes and fell into Sirius' waiting hand. Scrawled on it in Dumbledore's lazy handwriting was the legend To Inspire Discipline – s12, v7, p49. With a mildly concerned frown, Sirius tore the package open – then burst out laughing.
Remus looked at the note. "It looks like a library reference," he observed, waiting for Sirius to explain what was so funny. He stuffed the paper into a pocket before looking up – and blushing.
The old, black leather dog collar hung a bit loose around Sirius' neck, but somehow, it suited him.