A.N: Long time no see, my lovelies! Here's an AU Harry/Sirius story for you guys that I wrote a while back. Like most of you already know, my work (almost) always contains intimate interactions between these two lovely gents, so if male/male or Harry/Sirius in particular is not your cup of tea... I wish you a very good day :) Everyone else, feel free to pour through this and drop me a few lines afterwards!
Disclaimer: Not my characters or places but I borrowed them into my own world. No profit is made.
1. This is how it all begins:
Harry Potter, age fifteen, sits in a brightly lit bathroom on a downturned toilet seat holding a magazine in his hand. He is wearing only his pajama bottoms.
Harry Potter, age fifteen, should be in bed by now; it's way past midnight and the house of Grimmauld Place, Twelve, is quiet all around him. But Harry cannot sleep. Like on so many nights before, he has twisted and turned on his bed until the bedsheets were strangling him and he was bathing in sweat.
Harry cannot sleep, because he is too terrified of what he sometimes sees when he closes his eyes. He's had a reoccurring nightmare since that spring.
But right now, now when everything that will matter concerning our story is about to happen, Harry isn't terrified in the slightest. That cold nagging feeling has been pushed to the furthest corner of his mind and the door has been slammed shut, and for a moment he can be just like any other young man, age fifteen; about to turn sixteen in a few weeks' time.
Harry found the magazine he's holding in one hand last summer when he was at Grimmauld Place, Twelve, when they were cleaning the house. It had been tucked between sofa-cushions in one of the many drawing rooms in the house, and he had managed to slip it under his shirt and smuggle it out of the room without anyone noticing, and study it more closely later, during one of those night that he had been unable to sleep (they had been scarcer back then, before... that spring). Its contents had at first made his jaw slacken, but later on it had become his number one method for attaining even some form of relaxation.
Harry turns the pages, absently looking at the very explicit pictures spread out on the pages, until he reaches the very best picture in the entire magazine. Even before he began staring at that one picture, he had noticed that the bindings were more fragile there- whoever had owned the magazine before him had shared his liking for that particular shot.
Harry glances at the locked door of the bathroom out of habit before slipping his hand under his pajama bottoms. He looks at the photo with a tilted head as he begins to stroke himself.
Harry has lost count of how many times that picture has helped him to the heights of euphoria. It never bores him. He just has to be careful, because in a dorm full of adolescent teens a magazine with pictures of naked men in it might cause a slight uproar.
It doesn't take long for Harry to be closing his eyes and relaxing his head against the tiled wall. The familiar pleasure intensifying inside of him is gently reporting to him how close he is starting to be. A tight, aroused sigh spills from his lips.
Just when Harry is about to reach his climax, the door opens and Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, walks into the bathroom. He is fully clothed and looks dead tired but Harry doesn't notice this; he's trying to do three things at once: straighten up, yank his hand out of his pajama bottoms and most importantly hide the magazine in his hand from sight.
Sirius looks amazed and stops dead on his tracks with his hand still on the doorknob as he stares at Harry. Every inch of Harry's body feels hot, particularly his face, but he tries to look as innocent as possible while on the inside he's about as embarrassed as any almost sixteen-year-old young man can be about getting caught in the act.
There is a moment of complete silence. Then, Sirius asks: 'What's the magazine?'
It does not strike as odd to Harry now because he's busy trying to pretend there is no magazine, but later... later he will take notice of Sirius's peculiar choice for the first comment, because it wasn't the expected muttered apology and a quick close of the door, or even a stupid inquiry of what he's doing. No. Sirius is more interested in the magazine.
'Nothing!' Harry says quickly and tries to hide the magazine behind him. He sees the glint that appears in his godfather's eyes, along with the light grin.
Sirius' wand is out in a flash. 'Accio, magazine,' he says, sounding amused. Amused, even though he's just surprised his godson in his private bathroom in the middle of the night adjusting his antenna.
Harry yelps and tries to catch the magazine but it slips from his fingers like drawn by a magnet. He does not think. His only thought is not letting Sirius see the magazine. He springs up, takes a single step and gets tangled in the legs of his pajama-bottoms; they are Ron's, because Harry has none of his own and the legs are too long.
Sirius has advanced into the room, still with that ghost of an amused grin on his face, and let the door shut behind him. When Harry trips, he collides head-on against Sirius' chest and Sirius staggers back. His arm instinctively- or so Harry thinks at the time- wraps around him to steady them.
'Wow, careful,' Sirius says and Harry hears him rustle the magazine.
Suddenly Harry cannot move. His face is buried in Sirius's chest amidst his soft clothes (Sirius is wearing that black hoodies that Harry absolutely adores because of the way it makes Sirius look both slightly bad-ass and totally lovely all at the same time), and he is too scared to move a muscle. Harry is still most definitely aroused, which is making this entire situation that much more embarrassing and awkward and scary.
The silence that follows is almost too much to bear. Harry's heart is beating against his ears and there's a distinctive acid taste in his mouth. Excuses are lining up on his tongue but none get out- it feels like he's left his voice behind at the toilet seat.
'...Oh,' Sirius finally says, and Harry tries and fails to hear what sort of an 'oh' it is. Taken aback 'oh'? Surprised 'oh'? … Repulsed 'oh'?
Fingers briefly circle the back of Harry's neck in an almost absent touch and he freezes even more.
Harry is waiting for Sirius to ask what he's doing in his bathroom with a magazine full of explicit pictures of naked men. But Sirius doesn't ask.
Instead, he says: 'I interrupted you, didn't I?' and Harry doesn't find it odd in his current state of mind that Sirius asks all the wrong questions because this was Sirius, after all. The man's motto seemed to be 'Expect the unexpected from me'.
The touch is back at the nape of Harry's neck. He's not even breathing.
'Don't look so freaked out,' Sirius says. Harry wants to point out to him that he can't see his face so he has no idea what he looks like, but he doesn't. 'What you're doing is normal, y'know.'
Harry cannot believe his ears. Not only because of what Sirius is saying, but how he is saying it.
'You should finish up,' Sirius continues, and he is amused again. 'It's bad for your health to stop halfway through.'
Sirius moves back. Later, Harry reasons the man was probably attempting to gently peel him, Harry, off his chest. But Harry's hands are gripping the front of Sirius's hoodies convulsively and his hold only tightens when he feels the man starting to back away. Somehow Harry feels that, if he lets go of Sirius's shirt and reveals his face to the world again, the man's amused, normal acceptance will disappear and he'll receive the look of repulsion he fears.
What happens next makes Harry start to slightly doubt the reality of all this- he thinks that maybe he's in fact fallen asleep there on the toilet seat and this is all just a dream.
Sirius pulls Harry close again, and his fingers once more circle the nape of his neck. It's a relaxing touch, but because of the state Harry's in, it has quite the opposite effect on him; his muscles tighten and he shivers, and he thinks he must be dreaming because no way should just a caress to his neck make him stiffen fully again.
Suddenly Harry feels a light pressure at the small of his back and his body moves away from it purely on instinct- and straight against Sirius's. Harry's breathing hitches in his throat when he feels a denim-clad thigh slipping between his legs and pressing against his erection quite straightforwardly. Embarrassed panic spins his world about and he tries to wriggle back, but then Sirius tightens his embrace around him and he stills. He's breathing very shallow and his face feels very hot and very red. In that state, it doesn't even occur to him to question Sirius's motives to do such a thing.
'There's nothing to be embarrassed about,' Sirius says softly, and his words seem to seep through Harry's ears into his mind and then trickle down like something hot down his spine.
Harry wants to say 'Yes there is, loads' but he cannot. All the sense that's left in him is concentrated solely on that area around his groin that is pressed against Sirius. And when the man moves, a sensation of amazing, sweet, maddening friction rushes up his spine and pushes a tight gasp out of his mouth.
If Harry could, he would freeze up even more in embarrassment, but his body already is as tight as it can get. He very briefly wonders how on earth he ended up in this situation in the first place.
Harry hears the magazine rustle ever so quietly behind his back.
'Please don't tell anyone,' he says before he can stop himself. He's in such a hurry to say it and his mouth is so tightly pressed against Sirius's warm chest that his words are totally incomprehensible.
'I won't tell anyone,' Sirius says. And Harry can hear that the amusement is still there. He wishes he had mastered that Disappearing Charm last semester, because what he needs now is the dark half-solitude of his room downstairs and the sound of Ron's faint snores- that way he could make himself believe this all has been just a dream.
Sirius releases him and takes a step back so quickly that Harry can't react fast enough. He's left standing in the brightly lit bathroom blinking like a rare animal that's just been excavated from its dark cave under the ground. Harry tries to look at everything else except the man standing in front of him and ends up staring at his toes- but soon realizes that isn't good, either, because now he can see his still tenting pajama-bottoms. If possible, he gets even redder.
'You should finish that,' Sirius says again, sounding amused and gentle and teasing all at the same time.
Harry doesn't move a muscle. He is beginning to think that suffering from enough embarrassment will make you momentarily paralyzed and light-headed.
'… Or do you need a hand?'
Harry doesn't move a muscle. He is beginning to think there is something wrong with his hearing and perception of reality. Sirius couldn't possibly be offering something that... something that...
But Harry sees that the legs in front of him take a step towards him again. He sees Sirius's jeans and hoodies and for some reason his gaze fixes upon the buckle of his belt. He doesn't understand why he's looking, but he can't look away, either. It feels like his entire body along with his vocal chords have been petrified.
Sirius is standing so close, now. Harry keeps staring down, for surely this is a dream. A very good dream. That, or then Sirius is playing with him- giving him the worst prank ever, and Harry doesn't want to be looking at Sirius in the eye when the man stops pretending.
Harry sees Sirius's hand rise from his side and very straightforwardly (or so it feels like to Harry, who has yet to become accustomed to touching someone else's body as freely as his own) slips two fingers under the waistband of Harry's pajama- bottoms. The touch is light, but Harry feels like Siriu had pressed something resonating and hot against his stomach that sends pulsing, thrilling waves throughout his body. He feels like he is suddenly hovering an inch from the ground and his heart is pounding madly in his ears.
The two fingers tug down, and Harry had never known the sensation of cotton sliding along the length of his shaft to feel so lovely and arousing. He is still looking down with his hands on his sides and he sees everything. His head leans against Sirius's chest ever so slightly when the man touches him and his knees feel like promptly giving in, and his world spins around inside of him.
The feel of Sirius's hand on him is different from his own. He watches the hand stroke up once, twice, and it feels like that hand is connected to his spinal chord because at the beginning of each gentle stroke, Harry's world seems to trickle down his spine and then leak out of him as the hand strokes, only to get returned to him but magnified ten times when Sirius's hand falls back down to his hilt again. It is dizzying, unbelievable and so goddamn arousing that Harry fears he will come very much too soon while still not believing this is actually happening. Sirius was spontaneous, but not this spontaneous. He couldn't be. Absolutely couldn't. There had got to be some sort of a 'reason' switch inside the man's head, after all. He couldn't just.. Couldn't just... Oh GOD.
'Merlin,' Harry gasps and suddenly he's clinging onto Sirius again because his shaky legs won't support him anymore. His release is like a typhoon at the very base of his spine but he can't get there. He moans tightly, his embarrassment and slight confusion and doubt blending into his arousal and giving it a new, redhot lining. He feels a hand coming to hold the back of his neck and now he's leaning onto Sirius, very shamelessly, and Sirius is leaning against the wall and Harry has no idea when they'd moved to get there. He moans, and gasps, all reason leaving him as everything of him becomes fixed on chasing after that euphoria just around the corner. He barely notices it when he's pulling Sirius down on the floor with him and the man follows, and then they're sitting on the tiled floor with Harry in the vee of Sirius's legs, gasping into his shirt and bucking up against his hand and when his release comes it's so freeing. So mind-blowing.
They sit there on the tiled floor and Harry is spent and dizzy and doubting this reality. He misses the sight of Sirius lifting his hand and sucking some of the whiteness off his fingers.
This night is the night it all began.