A Notch on the Bedpost

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Harry Potter, or any of the characters mentioned in this story, unless stated otherwise. Rated for some sexual content, violence and language. Any similarities to real life are purely coincidence and I will not be held responsible! Thanks!

WARNING: WILL CONTAIN SLASH (male on male)!! Ye be warned

Author's Note: feeling blah…kind of melancholy-y. So, I am writing. This will probably be sad, but…that's all right. Cheers.

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Sirius was a simple creature, really. He ate, he slept, he went to classes, and hung out with his friends. Simple. Then he had his women. They were also mostly rather simple. He had simple relationships with them too. They met, they snogged, they had sex, and he dumped them. Sim-fucking-ple.

And every time he had his way with another one of his women, he would celebrate with a drink and the ritualistic carving of another notch on his bedpost. Now in his seventh year, his bed in the Marauders' dorm was littered with notches. Dozens of them up and down all four bedposts. He didn't bother to count them.

It was just starting to get cold enough for snow outside, December unusually warm so far, and he was lying in his bed with his best mate (or one of them anyway) Remus. He adored Remus and his addiction to cocoa-based products and obsession with books. Adored the way he would smile indulgently when Sirius or James came up with a particularly good prank. Adored how even after the full moon, and his friend's body was broken and bruised, Remus could make him smile or laugh. But most of all, he adored Remus because he couldn't have him.

Sirius knew this. Remus didn't like him that way. Of course not. It was preposterous, and too, Sirius wasn't gay. Sure, he'd kissed his fair share of blokes, but snogging was snogging; especially when one was drunk. It was simple really…painfully so. So Sirius didn't push him into sleeping with him. He valued his friendship too much anyhow.

Remus ran his hands absently over a set of grooves Sirius recalled as breaking in his sixth year. "You never told my why you've carved your bed up."

Sirius smirked. "And why do you want to know Mooney?"

Remus shrugged. "Curious."

"They're my notches," Sirius stated. Simple.

"Notches indicating…?"

"The birds I've had."

Remus looked at him, the tint on his rose coloured glasses fading slightly as he digested this information. "Oh…"

Sirius sighed. Mooney was complex, and he could practically hear the boy's brain whirring along, stringing together possibilities. But some things were just simple. "I'm not trying to brag or anything…I just…I dunno. They're just there."

"So everyone you've ever slept with has a notch?"

Sirius nodded.

"And no one's ever not been a notch?"

A light smirk wending it's way onto Sirius' lips. "What is this, Twenty Questions?"

Remus shrugged. "Just wondering." He sounded defensive and Sirius pushed his advantage.

"Why? Jealous?" The second after the word slipped from his lips, he knew it was a mistake. He knew he shouldn't have pushed, but…he was a simple creature. He didn't think of consequences to his actions. The Whomping Willow incident was proof enough of that…

"Yes Sirius, I'm jealous that I'm not one of the many slags you've had who you've then recorded with a dent in your bed." He got up, huffing.

"Remus…wait. That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Remus asked, turning back and looking at his friend. Sirius was sitting up now, still in his unmade bed.

"I didn't mean anything. I'm just being stupid. C'mon Mooney…" Remus sighed, but sat down next to the Animagus.

Both of them tried to ignore the discomfiture that silence brought them. Suddenly, though they had never had a problem before, there weren't any words that could pass between them. Even Sirius, who almost never shut his gob, couldn't break the silence.

Then, with a gentle ruffle of cloth over cloth, he reached out and put his hand over Remus'. Their eyes met, speaking the words their mouth could not, asking questions they couldn't dare – wouldn't dare – ask aloud.

Remus looked away. He didn't know. Sirius did. He was, after all, simple. He knew what he wanted, and knew Remus wanted it too. He just had to convince him of that fact.

He leaned in, dangerously close to the werewolf's neck, lips hovering as Remus stopped breathing. "Mooney…" it was barely a whisper, but it echoed and carried through both their consciousnesses. It was a plea, one which none had ever refused.

"I…" Remus paused.

Sirius maintained his quiet, eyes roving over the smooth expanse of skin along his friend's neck, frowning lightly at the jagged scar that peeked over his collar. He wanted to touch it.

Fingers bridged the distance that buzzed between them. The infinitesimal gap that separated friends and lovers. The space that defined them for who they were… He traced over the silky, pearly white scar tissue and Remus shivered.

"No."

As though the word from Remus' larynx had burned him, Sirius drew his hand away. "No?" He didn't understand.

"No."

"Why?" …A simple question, and yet so heavy with expectancy and curiosity and hurt.

Remus stood up once more, and yet could not meet Sirius' eyes this time. He didn't want to say the words, but they tumbled out oblivious, his subconscious breaking loose form it's restraints and running amok. "I won't be another notch on your bedpost."

Sirius watched him leave the room, the weight of rejection heavy on his chest and the taste bitter in his mouth. Remus had said no. He didn't want to be a notch on the bedpost… Sirius wiped his face, marring the delicate traces of tears from his cheeks and stood.

He was a simple creature, Sirius Black. He ate, he slept, he went to class and he hung out with his friends. And when he was rejected because of the notches on his bedposts, he cried. Simple.

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Author's Note: simple, short, to the point. Hope you enjoyed. Cheers again.