There was nothing he could do about it. He was never going to come away after this, never. Any cleanliness or godliness attributed to his name was gone.
'Funny. Never thought it'd would ever matter before.'
His virginity and sense of morality had been stripped by a man whose reputation he'd fought too hard to clear. It was horrible, humiliating, and ultimately the most damning feeling.
"Sirius, yes, how? Oh, oh, please, how?"
Heavy breathing accentuated the crazed look in his partner's eye. Stuck in the past. The convict had a permanent stubble on his clammy cheeks. His eyes were perpetually unfocused, and his muscles alternated the disturbed stat of extreme slack and extreme rigidity.
"James, now. Remember? Now? Prongs, hah, Prongs remember soon."
Boy-James was trapped beneath the convict, who rutted away with enthusiasm. Black and Potter, inseparable after all these years. Glued at the hip.
Natural glue.
Organic.
Better tasting, and no sugar added.
Harry's head jarred the floor length tapestry that displayed the skewed names of the ignoble House of Black. Funny how it would take place here. It made sense of course.
Initially it had been Snape's, then Dumbledore's, then Remus', and then...he ran out of dead men to blame. So he blamed himself. Self pity was far more satisfying anyway. He flirted with the idea of blaming Hermione, but it's not her fault she was willing to provide information. She was already curious about the veil, and legilimency was a skill she'd never mastered after all. Dumbledore had never explained, never warned, as usual. Snape should have known better, been a better teacher. Remus should have been there for him, been stable. No, it was a war, no one owed him anything, it was always his "brilliant" plans that did him in.
War.
No one owed him.
Did their best.
War.
'The war was better than this,' he observed idly. Hot cream spurted over his erection.
'I wonder if I'll bleed if I'm jerked off one more time...'
Harry felt hot breath and a blunt tongue. So much like a dog, but thankfully the mind had yet to register that bout of torture. The ultimate mind-fuck. Mixing legilemency and the veil had been supremely stupid. The spell had hit Sirius, or at least what was left of Sirius. Harry's mind was forever trapped in this hell hole with the man-beast, his body most likely rotting away at St. Mungo's, the Wizarding World unable to believe their hero was gone.
Harry sighed and carded his hands through the hair of his godfather. He felt himself going as well. It wouldn't be long before he was a raving as this. Or maybe not. He laughed, stroking the rough face. He laughed and laughed while he came, and still he laughed. The last thing in Harry Potter's mind was the sight of two strong hands over his neck.
The tapestry shivered and swayed like a veil in the wind.