Temptation

Warning: Slash, mentioned Onesided Sirius/Harry

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Pairing: Onesided Sirius/Harry. Draco/Harry.

Notes: Harry's 19, it's after the war. Sirius didn't die.

Word Count: 676 (only actual Drabble)

One Drabble a Day Challenge, Date: Tuesday, September 15th 2009

Temptation

Slim, athletic build, cherry red lips, long, silky strands of ebony hair framing a heart shaped face, wide emerald eyes and an innocent aura. Harry Potter was temptation personified. A perfect sensual being whom caught the eyes of everyone no matter where he went.

Not even he was immune.

And he hated himself for it. How could he want to do, do—that--with his little Harry? How could he even think about little Harry like that? Little Harry whose diapers he remembers changing, and whom he used to play with: stacking his little blocks with and giving rides as Padfoot and reading stories to. The little baby boy whom he held moments after his birth, whom he was named godfather over and whom he was honored enough to be around to hear is first word: Pa'foo.

He should be locked up in Azkaban simply for existing. How sick could he be?

Even thinking this, even hating himself, even knowing his godson—his little Harry James Potter—was to be wed in twenty minutes and five seconds, Sirius couldn't help imagine what he would look like, spread out before him like the little delicacy he was, emerald eyes wide and cheeks tinted pink, lips parted and swollen a cherry red and legs parted for him and only him.

He could feel himself grow hard at the images that flashed across his eyelids, and if it weren't for the fact that the object of his desires was right in front of him, straightening his tie in front of a mirror, Sirius would have left to the bathroom to wank off, his mind full of images of his godson.

And he hated himself all the more for it.

….Ten minutes left and Sirius felt like he was drowning. He didn't understand what was happening, Harry pacing in front of the ivory doors that lead to the hall he would be wed in, were his soon to be husband Draco Malfoy waited for him impatiently.

Sirius could feel himself crack with each step and each gaze into exited emerald orbs.

…...Five minutes left and Sirius was silently screaming, wave after wave of despair slamming into him with such intensity he actually staggered, hiding from Harry's concerned gaze with a grin and a loud laugh.

…...Three minutes and counting. Sirius wanted to cry, to scream until the shards that were cracking from his carefully constricted porcelain mask shattered and choked him. Wanted to take Harry into his arms and run away, to hide and never, ever let anyone see his gorgeous godson again.

…..A minute and counting. Music played and the door opened and Sirius smiled outwardly, carefully hiding his screaming and crying self on the inside as Harry's slim so slim, so beautiful, so delicate, so perfect arm slid into his own, his smile breathtaking and oh so perfect oh so beautiful as they walked up the aisle.

"...and who is giving away the bride?"

Taking a deep breath, Sirius mentally went through lists of what he could say. Imaging himself objecting, pulling Harry away or simply refusing to allow Draco his hand in marriage, his oh so perfect oh so beautiful oh so delicate hand which was held so trustingly in his arm.

Sirius smiled wildly, his eyes lit with mocking laughter. Laughter directed at no one but himself.

"I do."

Sirius wanted to stop everything, to scream that Draco couldn't have Harry. That Harry was his. He wanted his godson to know he loved him much, much more than he should have.

...Sixty seconds and counting.

And he hated himself for it.

…..Ten seconds and counting.......

Harry Potter was temptation personified. He was the dream any man or woman dreamed as they slept, the desire many a man panted after and the thought on almost everyone's minds. No one could deny him, no one could resist him.

…..Five seconds and counting......

Not even he.

Harry Potter was temptation personified.

And Sirius was one of the millions panting after his image—the image of someone they could never have.