Title: Not Kissing Sirius Black
Author: Persepolis130
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine. JKR's.
Summary: Remus Lupin hadn't meant to kiss Sirius Black. It just sort of happened, the way werewolves happened to bite you, or you happened to wake up with a large spot on your chin, and now Remus was all whiskered and spotty, and Severus Snape was going to absolutely murder him. Oneshot remus/sirius
Notes: This fic is Remus's POV of certain events in Chapter 5 of As Yet Unwritten, though you don't have to have read that to understand this one. If you haven't, you'll want to note that this is AU, in which Sirius was sorted into Slytherin and is quite close to Snape, and he's blackmailing the Gryffindors to do his bidding (aka mapmaking) so he won't reveal that they're animagi. References to that brilliant giant of a fic, Shoebox Project, which I (sadly) didn't write, but every HP fan should read.

Remus hadn't meant to kiss him.

Of course he'd wanted to, he had since second year. It was one of those undeniable Urges people talked about but you never believed until you felt them yourself, and by then it was too late, you were hooked solidly by the gaping, blubbering mouth, being reeled in like an unfortunate fish.

The Urges had only gotten worse after that travesty of a prank on the Express when their lips had touched and Remus was too badly shocked for the sensation to have registered in his brain. It was often all he could think of, the not registering, and how his life would surely one day come to an untimely end due to his mind's fitful need to fully comprehend something before it could even begin to process its ramifications.

To make up for this depressing eventuality, Remus sometimes touched his lips to the back of his hand, or the pulse point in his wrist, closed his eyes, and imagined.

All of that aside though, the fish and the registers and the strange looks his housemates gave him when they caught him furiously mouthing at various body parts, he'd still meant to, you know, not kiss him. Like he always did. Remus Lupin was always forcibly not kissing Sirius Black, so it shouldn't've been a problem.

Except that it was.

It was a huge problem. A massive, humongous, gargantuan problem, to be precise.

They'd been in the restricted section huddled together under James's cloak (as they were wont to do nowadays), and Sirius was scanning the shelves for a book on reversals of Unplottable Enchantments. It was the dead of night and they were all alone, James back in their room pencilling in the third floor and Peter gaping over his genius, and Sirius had his jet-black hair pushed enticingly behind his ear and was murmuring titles like a long, delicately interwoven enchantment.

Remus often got the notion that the concept of personal space flew in the face of everything Sirius believed in. During these frequent, trying times in which his unbreachable bubble of individual liberty was, well, breached, Remus had always done his best to Remain Calm and convincingly Feign Disinterest, and (most important of all) Not Pass Out. After nearly six months of continual practice (and a number of occasions on which he swore Sirius was having a bit of a feel), he was getting much better at controlling himself.

But that night there had been this entrancing glint in Sirius's eyes, and his voice had been so hypnotic, and his skin so warm even through his robes, and he'd smelled like he'd bathed in every pheromone known to man, wizard, or werewolf kind. It'd been far too much for Remus's teenage-hormone-weakened will to possibly resist, and he'd done it.

As Sirius had turned to him, saying something he'd heard but not comprehended because he was too busy watching his lips move, Remus was struck by a fit of unabashedly wild abandon, and he'd leaned in and pressed his lips hard against Sirius's. Well, mostly against them anyway, since fits of wild abandon apparently did his aim no justice, and he'd ended up sort of hitting the corner of Sirius's mouth.

He'd held his lips there until he was out of breath, and when he came away gasping, he saw the look on Sirius's face, open and raw and uncomprehending, and realized why he'd decided to not kiss him in the first place. Because what was supposed to happen now? How did you apologize to another boy for consistently not kissing him for the past four years?

Remus was clearly the luckiest person on the planet though, because Sirius, gorgeous Sirius in his infinite enthralling brilliance, had come up with his own solution. He'd turned back to the shelf and said very calmly, "I think we're in the wrong row."

It was a flawless observation, as random Gryffindors likely didn't bodily attack people with misaligned suction cup lips in the right row. Remus was undyingly grateful that everything had been righted in Sirius's usual irresistibly cavalier fashion, and the rest of their search went off without a hitch.

Now, let it be know that Remus had never been much for masturbation.

Not that he hadn't ever done it, because he had, but there was something a bit… undignified about it. Perhaps this was James's fault, since if anyone ever heard Remus have at himself with that sort of gusto and, well, buffalo noises, he'd be forced to move to Argentina and live in a hole with a bag over his head. That night though, it didn't matter because it only took him about three seconds and the thought of Sirius's warm lips against him, and people simply did not exile themselves to underdeveloped South American countries for a three second wank.

Did they?

Nearly a week later, he was still trying to sort it all out-- wanking and Argentina and Sirius's lips and his lamentable essay on the Goblin Wars for History of Magic-- when he found himself in the library with Sirius again.

He really should've been studying for OWLs because he wasn't half as brilliant as James or Sirius, who seemed to have been imbued with NEWT level abilities in the cradle, but when he'd attempted to protest, Sirius had thrown him this Look, and he'd given in. Remus wasn't entirely sure what this particular Look meant, but he'd always been highly susceptible to Looks, and with Sirius as the one giving it, Remus would as soon drop DADA as turn him down. Probably sooner, if he was being entirely honest with himself.

He pondered the acceptability of this notion, forever abandoning his absolute favourite subject for a night of passionate snogging with his absolute favourite boy, as they perused the shelf he hoped contained a book on Tracking Charms. He was too close to Sirius again, they were bumping shoulders under the cloak and the air was warm and smelled like boy, but Remus steeled himself against those pesky hormonal Urges he was feeling and promised himself that tonight, he would assuredly not kiss Sirius Black once more.

"Do you reckon this is the right row?" Sirius suddenly asked.

"Oh," Remus responded (in his stuttery after-hours-library-voice), feeling his face turn red because he honestly hadn't been paying attention to the books in the least, "well I, I'm not… really sure…"

"Oh," said Sirius. "Oh. Because last time, you know, it really wasn't. At least, you know. So."

Remus felt Sirius shrug, but his eyes were turned toward the shelf, and that marvellously silky hair of his was hanging in his face, and sometimes he made slightly less sense than he should, and it made Remus feel terribly, hopelessly stupid. "I… I don't think I, ah, follow…"

Sirius swallowed. "It wasn't that I didn't want it to be the right row last time," he clarified. "You know I like you. A lot. You've very, you know, bookish and, and jumpery. I like that. A lot. It's just that… I had to ask Severus. About the, well, you know. The kissing."

And suddenly, everything clicked into place in Remus's Siriusly-jumbled brain.

Why it hadn't before was anyone's guess, though it probably had something to do with the fact that Severus Snape, Sirius's best and most trusted companion, was the most terrifying fifth year Slytherin to ever walk the earth. He had beady black eyes that glared out from behind a curtain of greasy black hair, and cruel, thin lips stretched taut across crooked, yellowing teeth. He watched over Sirius like the hawk that his wickedly hooked beak of a nose suggested, invented the cruellest hexes, and terrified even his own housemates with his paroxysms of uncontrollable fury.

There had been rumours about the two of them for years, Black and Snape and things boys just didn't do with each other, but Remus had never given them much credence. Though a small, neatly hidden part of him begged for it to be true, as it might mean he'd some sort of chance, the rest of him, the logical unhidden parts, told him it simply wasn't so. In fact, even when little Kingsley had burst into the common room this very afternoon, his squeaky boy-voice proclaiming tales of holding hands down by the lake, Remus had told him in his best prefectly voice that he oughtn't spread nasty rumours.

But all those rumours, they were apparently true, and they slept in the same bed and embraced on the Express and held hands by the lake and took extravagant vacations in Florence together where they shagged day and night in Sirius's family villa, and Remus was dead. Severus Snape would murder him for daring to touch Sirius because Sirius was his, his-- Remus couldn't say the word, couldn't even think it!-- because Snape was going to pull Remus's intestines out through his nostrils and hang him upside down by his toes with them while simultaneously extracting each one of his fingernails with enchanted pliers and collecting his blood in a silver chalice to use in his Dark Potions, and--

"Moony."

Remus must've jumped half a foot.

"He said he didn't care."

And Remus just stared, his mind boggling with the nearly infinite implications of he said he didn't care, and Remus didn't have enough time to analyze a single one of them because Sirius kissed him.

It was impossible, and surreal, and the best thing ever because Sirius was gorgeous and perfect and amazing, and his mouth was so warm, and Remus made a sort of moaning noise and Sirius put his lips around Remus's bottom lip and sucked. He was sure he'd die of embarrassment right then and there until Sirius echoed his noise and slid his tongue into Remus's mouth. Then he realized he'd die of pleasure instead, if such a thing was possible outside the melodramatic romance novels he snuck off his mother's bookshelves, and oh Merlin he was hard and this was so much better than he'd ever imagined when he'd given his wrist love bites!

Sirius's arms came around him, and the cloak mussed his hair so that it was tickling Remus's face. He brought his hand up to brush it away but ended up running his knuckles across Sirius's cheek, sliding his fingers beneath his ear, and burying his hand in the soft, fine hair at Sirius's neck. Sirius gasped into his mouth and held him tighter, and Remus snaked his other arm around his waist, and before he realized what was happening, Remus's back was hitting the nearest bookshelf.

He let out a muffled oomph! of shock, shifting against the leather-bound spines as Sirius pressed into him, his tongue hot and slick and his knee between Remus's thighs. There was something hard and insistent poking hotly into Remus's hip and it was far too large to be a wand and he recalled the glimpse he'd gotten that day when they'd been hiding under the table, and Remus was going to absolutely, mortifyingly lose it. He could feel it building inside him, and he gasped when Sirius grasped hard at his arse and thrust against him, shaking the entire shelf with the strength of it.

Sirius swore against his lips and it was the most perfect thing Remus had ever heard, and then Sirius's tongue was in his ear and it was too much, the wet noises and the feel of it and the thought of other places Sirius might put that skilful tongue, and Remus was whimpering and Sirius was starting to sound desperate and shoved him so hard against the shelf that a book fell on his head and he didn't even care because oh god oh fuck oh Merlin hewasgoingto--

"Who's there!"

The sound of Filch's voice was as effective as a Full Body Bind. Both of them froze instantly, Sirius's tongue going still and sort of mushy in Remus's ear, and Remus tried his absolute hardest to not breathe, because if they got caught like this...

"You can't fool me! I heard you making a ruckus back there! Show yourself!"

Remus forced himself to not panic, because they were under the cloak, and if they just stayed quiet, Filch would leave. There was no proof anyone was here, just some noises that could easily be chalked up to Peeves and… the book they'd knocked off the shelf. Bloody…

He jerked his head to the side because if they didn't find it, they were doomed, and there it was, a few feet away, laying on the floor like a Homing Spell, a beacon that would draw Filch to them like flies to sun-melted treacle. Sirius saw it too and sucked his tongue back into his mouth with a faint but audible slurp.

Filch's footsteps were getting closer, and there was a wild look in Sirius's eyes that reminded Remus he was still hard pressed against him and made him want to absolutely moan. Without warning, Sirius grabbed Remus's arm and dragged him to the book, quickly scooping it up and hiding it with them inside the cloak. "Let's go!" he hissed, and yanked Remus toward the door.

By some miracle, Filch turned the wrong way, but they didn't take any chances. They ran and ran and didn't stop until they reached the bleakly foreboding blank wall of the entrance to the Slytherin dorms. Remus stared at it, and stared at Sirius, and panted and pushed at the cramp in his side.

He didn't want to drop Sirius off, didn't want to sneak seven floors back to the Gryffindor dormitory under the cloak all alone. Didn't want to lay in his cold bed that always smelled slightly and distressingly of healing compresses and wild animal, where he could never quite hide from what he was. He wanted to be touched and kissed and treated as if he meant something.

And his side hurt. Rather badly.

"That was genius, wasn't it?" Sirius asked.

Remus blinked.

Sirius had a terribly pleased look on his face, the type he always had when he'd just gotten away with something clever. "We should do that more often."

Remus just looked at him, praying he was referring not to narrowly escaping Filch, but to what had been happening directly before it. Because what if he wasn't?

What if he saw the whole thing as one huge prank, another part of Sirius's diabolically cunning plan of blackmail and extortion to Destroy Those Foolish Gryffindors? What if he hadn't meant any of it at all, had no interest in Remus in the least, had somehow used a spell on his, you know, to make himself seem interested, when in reality he thought Remus was a hideously unattractive, unbecomingly literary, complete freak of a boy. That was it, he was sure of it, and the one Sirius really wanted was Lily Evans, because all the boys wanted her, no one would ever pick dull, sickly Remus over Lily Gorgeous Evans even if he did fancy snogging other boys, which Sirius decidedly did not because it was all just a joke and oh god Remus was going to have to move to Argentina after all--

"I'd like to cover your entire body in chocolate syrup and lick it off," Sirius told him. "Would you mind terribly?"

Remus gaped.

"Right," Sirius conceded. "Right. Of course it's… maybe a bit too soon for that. Understandable. And, well, I must admit I couldn't come up with that much chocolate on such short notice. I knew I shouldn't've wasted it all in one go, no matter how delicious it was in the pudding…"

And Remus kissed him. He couldn't help it.

Sirius beamed and smacked his lips together, and Remus had to stifle an incredulous laugh. "Goodnight, my Moony," he whispered, nuzzling his nose into Remus's neck. "You are brilliant, and I miss your chocolaty-delicious mouth already, even without the chocolate."

Remus blushed hotly as Sirius said the password and slipped out of the cloak. He'd not noticed before how much it was like a blanket, wrapping them together in shared warmth. "Goodnight, Sirius," he whispered with down turned eyes, feeling ever so girlish and not minding in the least.

Sirius held the book Remus had forgotten he was carrying (ohgod they'd stolen a book and he didn't even care!) to his chest and bowed deeply, gracing him with a mischievous grin. "Sleep well, sweet Remus," he said, climbing the stairs to his common room and disappearing into the wholly Slytherin darkness. "I'm off to have a toss!"

Remus stared in awe at the empty staircase. The staircase that until mere moments ago had held a completely gorgeous boy who liked him-- actually liked him!-- so much he was going right now to bring himself off whilst thinking of kissing him. Or… licking chocolate off him. Naked.

Sweet Merlin's tongue, Remus loved that staircase!

Remus watched until the wall closed in front of it, sealing off the passageway to the Slytherin dormitory and the boy he'd dreamt of since he was twelve years old and was now finally, inexplicably his. And then, since he was wearing an invisibility cloak and no one would know the difference anyway, he raised his hands, stomped his feet, whirled about, and did the most ridiculous, most triumphant Victory Dance his lycanthropy-ravaged body could manage.

Back in his own dorm room, he bid goodnight to Peter, who was for some reason still awake even though James was snoring on the floor, and slid into bed. He left his robes on, imagining he could still smell Sirius on them, closed his eyes, and hugged his pillow to his chest. He fell asleep that way, a small smile still clinging to his lips, comforted by the thought that maybe one thing in his pitiful little life might've actually worked out and maybe, just maybe, he'd never have to not kiss Sirius Black ever again.

END