Title: Of Men and Boys

Author: solunvar

Summary: Slash. Collection of one-shots, going through the spectrum of interhuman relationships.

Warnings: None, aside the aforementioned slash bit.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me and I'm certainly not making a profit off this.

Story I : Sirius

Harry woke suddenly, sweating. For a moment, confusion overtook him. Seconds later, he figured it out. It was the middle of the night, late July. This was his first time sleeping in a bed in his godfather's parental home: a dark and dreary place Dumbledore's group claimed their own.

Off to his side, loud snoring disrupted the quiet in semi-regular intervals. Ron Weasley, a good friend and current roommate.

Harry opened his eyes, catching darkness. After a while, his pupils corrected themselves and allowed the ambient light of the room to penetrate. The dark only became a couple of shades lighter, casting an orange hue on the ceiling and bed. Muggle streetlight: not even magic could keep it at bay.

Only then did he remember his dream. It was always the same scenery, always the same events acting out. Little Hangleton, the Riddle graveyard. Cedric dying, Voldemort gaining a new body, Death Eaters surrounding him while Voldemort dueled with him. And yet, the dream never felt like his memories. The dream was more intense and wasn't so much about the events in question, but the utter loneliness and helplessness he'd felt that day.

Harry shifted his legs, curling into himself. He pressed his head harder on the pillow, rubbing his face back and forth. In the end, he couldn't pretend that the mattress and pillow were a real person. He couldn't fool himself into thinking that there was another person in his bed to give him comfort.

He tightened his hold on the blanket, tried to ignore the tears forming. They didn't fall of course, they never did.

He stayed like that for a while, stuck in an emotional limbo.

A particular loud snore brought him out of his self-pity, taking him back to his surroundings. Sirius's house, the former ancestral home of the Black family. For years this building had withered and died, with only a crazy maniacal house-elf to take care of the place. Years that Sirius spent stuck in Azkaban.

Harry's feet hit the ground next to his bed automatically. Before he even realized what he'd done, he was already standing up and walking towards the door. He hesitated, slightly. Sirius would know how it felt like: the loneliness, the need for company, the need for affection. Sirius would understand. Sirius would help him, Harry decided.

He opened the door, stepped into the hallway and softly closed the door after him.

He found Sirius sleeping in a room near the top of the house. He couldn't see much of the room, only confirm that his godfather slept in a king-sized bed.

Harry shuffled to the side of the bed, unsure whether he should continue.

'What are you doing here, Harry?' murmured Sirius.

'I-' He pulled at a fold of his boxershort. 'Can I sleep here?'

'Here, Ha-'

'Just this once!' Harry quickly added. 'Please.'

He heard Sirius sigh. 'All right, kid. Just this once.'

Sirius stood right outside the drawing room, watching the teenagers and Molly Weasley tackle the dirt and infestations, listening in to the noise the redheaded mob made.

A hand clamped his shoulder. Sirius turned his head. 'Moony?'

'Padfoot,' acknowledged Remus. 'I think we need to talk.'

Sirius's eyes flicked towards the drawing room. He nodded. 'We should.'

They descended to the kitchen, where Remus poured them a shot of Firewhiskey.

'Harry's been sleeping in your room,' stated Remus, neutrally.

Sirius smiled wryly. 'Kid turned up in the middle of his first night. I couldn't turn him down then.' He sipped from his glass, coughing at the right time to get rid of the smoke. 'He said it would only be once. So far he's managed to turn up every night.'

Remus's brows furrowed. 'It's not healthy for someone his age…'

'I know,' agreed Sirius, 'but I don't have it in me to turn him down, send him away. I… wasn't there when he grew up. It's the least I can do now.'

'Is it just sleeping in the bed?' questioned Remus. 'Or is there more to it?'

Sirius shot Remus a look. 'Are you daft?'

Remus shrugged. 'I'm just saying… People change and I didn't want to discard all the possibilities.'

They didn't say anything after that, sticking to the silence.

'I'm not so sure Harry sees it that way though,' confessed the former prisoner.

'Oh?' There was a curious lilt to the expression.

Sirius inclined his head, saying: 'That first night was okay. I gave him half of my bed and he stuck to it. But the nights after that… I feel him inching closer and closer. One day I'm going to wake up and he'll be laying on top of me expecting things.'

Remus sighed.

Sirius agreed.

'Maybe you need to tell him that,' the werewolf suggested.

'Tell him what exactly?'

'That you can't give him what he wants. If that's even what he wants.'

Sirius downed the last of his firewhiskey, pouring another glass and refilling Remus's. 'I don't know. Do you really think Harry's…'

Remus cocked his head to the side, contemplating. 'I'm pretty sure he is. There's an intensity in his eyes when he looks at men that isn't there when he's looking at women.'

Sirius swallowed another sip.

'Do you remember the full moon when you confronted Wormtail?' Remus suddenly spoke.

A chill made its way up Sirius's spine. 'All too well.'

'I was in an odd state that night. Half influenced by the Wolfsbane potion, half wild. There are parts of that moon that I remember vividly and then there are parts I can hardly recall. One thing that night that stuck out to me was Harry's scent.'

Sirius scratched the back of his head. 'Harry's scent?'

'He was aroused,' Remus said. 'Shifting into my wolf form, it aroused him. Afterwards, I tried to dismiss that impression, but now? I'm not so sure anymore.'

Sirius sighed. 'I'll tell him tonight.'

'That will probably be for the best,' murmured Remus. 'There's no need to confuse or hurt the lad even more.'

Sirius was sitting on the bed when Harry entered the room, facing the door.

Harry frowned.

'You're still awake?' he asked, wondering what this was about.

Sirius looked up, staring him in the eyes. 'I don't think you should sleep here anymore.'

Harry crossed the small distance between them and sat on his knees right in front of the older man. 'I thought you didn't mind me staying here.'

He absently noticed Sirius's eyes were wet. Uncertainty entered his mind.

'I don't mind you staying here,' said Sirius silently. 'But I can't be who you want me to be, not like that.'

Harry stilled his motions.

'You… don't want me?' His voice broke in between 'don't' and 'want', as if they were two concepts that didn't – couldn't – intermingle.

'I've always liked women, kid,' continued Sirius, 'always.'

Harry's shoulders slumped, his eyes shut. Maybe if he couldn't see what was in front of him, he could ignore he heard anything.

His eyelids didn't make his ears stop hearing.

'I don't want to be alone, not anymore,' whispered Harry. 'I can't deal with empty beds and pillow hugs.'

Sirius put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. 'I'm sorry,' the man murmured.

Harry let his head rest on the other's shoulder. 'Can I still sleep here?' he asked quietly. 'I promise I won't do anything… Now that I know…' He swallowed. 'That you're not interested.'

He could hear the man sighing, an odd sensation, followed by the surprisingly intense vibration of an adult man speaking. 'Won't that make it more difficult for you? Being confronted with what you can't have like that.'

Visions of Christmases and birthdays long past flashed through his mind. 'I'm used to that,' admitted Harry. A hint of sadness and bitterness seeped through his voice. 'All my life really.' He paused. 'At least I won't be alone this time.'

Sirius let go of him of him and sent him a pitiful look mixed with the knowledge of adulthood. 'The worst solitude you can feel, is the one you feel in the company of friends and lovers.'

It didn't take long until Harry realized what Sirius meant. Three nights later, Harry stopped going to Sirius's chamber at night. Instead he curled up in his bed, closed his eyes and pretended that the void next to him was his godfather, holding him tight.

Even in a magical world, reality and fantasy doesn't always correlate.

Author's Note: As some of you might have noticed, this was not beta'd. So: if you encounter grammar and spelling issues, tell me. If you noticed a word missing in a sentence, please communicate the occurrence.

No promises on a schedule for the next story. Reviews are welcome, enjoyable even.