Dog Star
by Kami-chan
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Rating: R
Warnings: Some shounen-ai and yaoi, but no lemon.
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter! Harry Potter and its respective characters are (c) J.K. Rowling!
Notes: . Sorry, my loves. Just haven't much felt up to writing smutfics as of late. You'll just have to deal with it. I rather like this, though. It's short and sweet. My entry for the October Fanfiction Contest on YF. Not VERY Halloweeny, but it does involve the whole werewolf thing, and seeing as I think I'll be the only one entering AGAIN... . Don't think it matters.
Enjoy!
There is a strange sensation – everyone knows – when one is just at the edge of slumber. It is something akin to falling, limbs weightless and head heavy, painfully aware of the downy pillow beneath it. Unconsciousness closes in about one's mind, and the spiders of sleep begin to spin the silky web of nonsensical dreams. Dreams themselves make not even an ounce of sense. Sometimes they depict aspirations of greatness, sometimes sensational horrors that coat one's body in a cold sweat, sometimes erotic fantasies that leave the sheets sticky with warm fluids – but never, not once, are they realistic. However, no matter what wakeful emotions these fantasies might evoke, in sleep one remains peaceful and blissfully unaware to the outsider's eye.
Lying beside him in bed at night, I enjoyed gazing upon him in this state. Dark hair settled against his flesh and the bleach-white sheets that it trailed down to rest upon. That dark hair, which most times clung to his forehead, trapped in the dried beads of sweat that had formed from the night's headier activities, that shone so brilliantly in the slivers of moonlight that crept in through the window, silky smooth and unyielding to the attempts my weak fingers made to comb through it. And yes, his face remained peaceful and unperturbed in blissful slumber.
His name suited him, for he always seemed to be more aware and alert at night. The Dog Star – ever-constant, flittering and sparkling brightly in the navy velvet of the night sky – was his namesake. We tried to find it once, on a cold winter night that felt as bitter as death. One thick blanket upon the snow-strewn ground and another covering our own shivering forms, his head rested upon my chest, strong arms tangled about my torso. Two pairs of sharp eyes scanned the horizon, searching carefully. The biting wind tossed my dust-blonde hair about, and I clung closer to his shoulders, at length spotting my quarry.
"I think that's it..." I spoke quietly through trembling blue lips, "...Sirius."
"That one?" He asked, amber eyes following where my finger indicated, "How do you know?"
"I'm not sure," I responded, gaze fixed upon that singular point, "Call it lycanthropic instinct."
"Instinct," He mused, a small grin playing upon his thin lips, "I think you may be right, Moony."
He and I were never really rough. Upon mutually agreeing that we'd found what we sought, we headed back to the house, sighing in relief at the warmth that washed over us. The fire he'd started earlier still crackled merrily in the hearth, and I smiled as I slowly breathed in the musty scent of wood smoke. The tea we drank that night tasted a little sweeter than usual, the slight tang of mint lingering on our tongues long after our mugs were empty. I could taste it upon his lips and his mouth, so different from the ordinary saltiness that hung in his saliva. We sat before the fire for a long while that night, exchanging longing looks, heated kisses, and touches that left tingling trails of invisible heat on our skin. When we could stand the aching desire no longer, we retired to the bedroom and finished our night with a passionate coupling, our cries hanging in the cozy air of the house upon our shared completion.
It didn't puzzle him that werewolves mate for life. It never dawned on him that I'd claimed him as my mate. Clever as he was, he simply didn't think it "worked that way." However, werewolves – like dogs – are intensely loyal and trusting to a fault. By claiming Sirius as my own, I was giving him everything I was, and joining him among the stars. I will not be whole again until I am back in his arms.
Sirius, the Dog Star – my mate, my all.