Disclaimer: Sirius is Black, Harry's eyes are green, please don't sue, they're not mine, I just turned 16…

Disclaimer: Sirius is Black, Harry's eyes are green, please don't sue, they're not mine, I just turned 16….

Warnings: Underage, semi- angst, sort of AU, graphic sex, slash, and crude, debatably disgusting language, you have been warned, give me a break if you don't agree with it.

A/N: Popped into my head, I don't usually write things like this, but it seemed kind of original, anyway, please review because it takes two seconds, and it's superbly, awesomely, amazingly nice of you…And you'll get a free signed playgirl shot of Oliver Wood, don't act shocked, you know he's a whore, (but he's my whore) now onto the story line…

Sirius pulls on raven black hair and lets out a strangled moan, from beneath his naval a small muttered "fuck" can be heard.

He blames the hair; it's the same texture, same color, and same length.

Sirius is struggling for control now, dominance in the mouth, as he forces his way through a lust filled, anger scented haze to top his partner, tongues arguing and lips disappearing into mouths. Hands begin to fight their way around clothes and there isn't a coherent sentence to be heard for the rest of the night.

Maybe it's the voice. The deep uttered Sirius's from the back of the throat, almost purring, but with vibrations against his neck that drive him wild.

His partner starts on his trousers, and with the half-split- second he has to think, he knows that this is wrong. He is Godfather, here only to protect, not to use, and especially, not like this.

He has his father's ability to turn him on, get him hard, and keep him that way.

And then Harry's mouth is on his cock, and god-willing, he's lost all ability of thought, any concepts of guilt are far behind him, almost as far as the graves.

He can't look him in the eyes during this, because they're the only part that isn't James. When he looks him in the eyes, he sees Lily, and realizes once again that this is wrong.

But nothing feels better then pounding himself, his anger, his sadness, guilt, frustration, and so much more, into the tight fucking ass of someone, who is as close as he will get, to the one thing that he swore he'd never live without, the one thing that is now gone.

Maybe he would feel worse, if he hadn't done this exact thing with James when he was this age, but right now in his mind, they're both still 16, having awkward, sweaty sex on the dormitory bed, before Remus and Peter come back. Harry's still 16, and the sex is still awkward and sweaty, and still rushed before the Weasely clan arrive for dinner, but it's different, because this time, Sirius knows better.

He couldn't tell you if he loves Harry or not, because in his mind, Harry is James, is his father, is his. They've never been different people to him, just from one to the other, keeping love in the family, and, oh, god, it's good love, angry, upset, and dominating love, reminiscent of how it always used to be, scared, and ready to fight, even if this is the only way they know how.

He knows that if James saw this, he'd kill him, he's surprised in fact, that he hasn't been visited by his ghost yet, and Avada Kedavera on his ass. He actually wouldn't mind, then at least he'd be with the real James, and no longer force his godson to act the part.

Tonight it's over quickly, in the dark of Grimwauld place Harry mutters Sirius as he cums on his stomach and falls on the bed, dick still up his young lover's ass, Sirius cums too, and mutter's the name he'll never forget, "James"