T/N: Translation of "Le goût de l'interdit" by Sorn The Lucifer's Angel.

This is my first fanfic that I've translated (that got finished anyway), and I hope I gave it justice in English. The French version was really beautifully written and I find it hard to have the same effect when translating a story from one language to another (whether it's English to French, French to English, etc...)

IT WAS SO LONG -SOB- But I managed, yeah!

In any case, I deeply thank the original author, Sorn The Lucifer's Angel, for letting me translate and post this. Their writing is really wonderful, and I was very happy to be able to share it with fellow English-speakers. You can find the link to the original French version on my profile, feel free to leave a review on the original if you like (she speaks English too~).

I would also like to thank my wonderful Québécoise friend who helped me with some phrases I had difficulty with!~

-and voilà the translation!

A/N: A one-shot not too small and with lemon tendencies (but nothing too serious or graphic), largely written following the reading of chapter 20 of It was only a kiss! by remuslives23. The title of this fic was running through my mind for a while without the slightest idea of what I was going to do...besides the damn idea of two shadows in deserted corridors. Here, I say thankyou to Kameya for her fic Clandestins, which inspired me a lot. And thankyou indirectly to Damien Saez for having inspired the author and having helped me to write with his sublime instrumental "Light the way - interlune" (present on the album God blesse) and the lively "Marie ou Marilyn" (present on Debbie).

Disclaimer: Characters and places belong to J.K. Rowling. Inspiration comes from Clandestins by Kameya and It was only a kiss! by remuslives23. Only Helen's character and the story belong to me.

The Taste of the Forbidden

Shadows and whispered laughs in the corridors, of "hurry up!", and "wait for me!"; the sounds of footsteps, almost running, rapid breaths, fiercely mixing and entangling together.

Because it all has a particular flavour. Because the obscurity hides them from the rest of the world, hides their shameful secret.

Because it's so much more exciting to risk being caught, because it's so much more exciting to have to be careful because the penalty would be so serious if they were discovered.

But oh, it's so good, why is it forbidden?

Maybe they're jealous. Maybe it's precisely because it's too good that it's forbidden? If everyone discovered this pleasure...nothing would matter anymore. There would be nothing else, it would be the end of everything.

Yes, that's surely why it's forbidden.

But who cares for what's forbidden or not? Certainly not them.

Or maybe yes, deep down. Because they're full of fear at the thought of someone knowing, at the thought of someone discovering their secret. Because they would have to explain, they would have to lie to protect themselves, but the worst...they would have to stop.

And they aren't ready, not yet. It's too new, it's too delicious for them to stop now.

They don't understand. What's so bad about enjoying themselves? What's so bad about admiring these flat and hard angles, these manly traits, to prefer them to the generous curves of girls? What's so bad about -for a while- preferring larger, coarser hands? What's so bad about admiring these muscles which roll underneath the skin, which contract so deliciously at one's touch? What's so bad about sighing, embracing, scratching, biting, kissing, adoring a body which so resembles one's own and which gives just as much pleasure? What's so bad about getting drunk off of musky scents, preferring this roughness, this harder side, more animal sex? What's so bad about kissing these fine lips and breathing their breath, mixing with their raucous groans?

Because they must no longer care if they can do it or not, if it's right or not; the other understands, the other is like us and the other knows how to please and give pleasure.

And oh God, it's so good when he presses him there against the wall, and the kisses are so fervent, so scorching, that he thinks his bones will liquefy, that his skin will consume itself under his touches.

"Stop...not...not here." he finally manages to breathe once the other finally releases his mouth to trail his lips along his neck and this corner behind his ear, this place that he knows is sensitive and which makes him shiver every time.

The other boy groans, frustrated that he must let him go for what would be no more than a second, because he can't help himself and it's too hard not to touch him throughout the day; because he can no longer hide himself, can no longer give up the right to this pleasure until the night can protect them.

Because he's sick of pretending and letting himself be seduced by girls when he sees that the brown-haired boy is there, within reach and so desirable, oh so much more beautiful than all those who are flirting with him.

And how he must stop himself from groaning, from feeling the fury bubble inside of him when his girlfriend touches him, when she can come near him, but not him.

He'd like to be able to scream at Remus to break up with her, to stay with only him, because he belongs to only him, but he's afraid of his reaction, because maybe for the other boy it isn't so strong, not so vital to him.

And yes, he's jealous, he's horribly jealous, and he'd like to be able to to pull Remus into his arms, to keep him for him and no one but him, but he knows that this is forbidden, and that he can't. And he's afraid, too afraid, that if Remus doesn't feel the same thing then he'll stop this thing between them.

"Moony," he moans, incapable of letting him go for more than a second, even if someone has to discover them right in the corridor in the middle of the night. He doesn't care, he wants him, he wants him too much to be able to stop now.

But the other boy is already pushing him away and even if his eyes are filled with desire, there is still the bit of reason which had left him for a long time.

"Not right in the corridor, Sirius, it's too risky, wait until..."

But Sirius has already recaptured the mouth he desires so much, not allowing him the time to finish his sentence. He knows what Remus is going to say, and he doesn't want to hear it.

Yes, this is forbidden. Yes, this is wrong. Yes, they're risking too much if they are caught. But damn, he almost wants to get caught, he wants the scandal to break out, he wants to be able to officially claim Remus as his in front of everyone, and to hell with those it bothers!

But he knows the werewolf doesn't want that. He would certainly never want that. So he suppresses this desire, he tempts him, he puzzles him, he messes with him, he tries to make him fall little by little into his net so that he will no longer be able to get out.

The body underneath him trembles and the small whimper which comes from deep in his throat electrifies him, makes him completely crazy, and he wants to hear it again, but Remus is already pushing him away, a bit more abruptly this time.

The tangled hair, the short breath, the red swollen lips, the deliciously coloured face, the eyes full of desire and anger; he's never wanted him as much before.

"Restrain yourself a bit! I don't fancy being caught!" he hisses furiously, detaching himself from the wall and taking Sirius' hands, which are already adventuring on his hips to catch him back.

"But who cares, Moony, let them say what they want!" he retorts, annoyed to see that he's rejected.

Always this same argument, this lover's quarrel. Yes, this is forbidden, so? While Sirius doesn't care, this is not the case for Remus.

And then, always this look in response; this apologetic, desperate look which wants to make him understand, which screams at him not to say that.

"I care! You don't think it's enough that I'm already...what I am? You think it's necessary to add to that the fact that I..."

And always, Sirius interrupts him with a kiss. A kiss more tender than the others, softer, almost chaste, but which means so, so much more. It's a kiss to reassure him, to say I will always be there and to express the three words that he's so afraid to say aloud, fearing that Remus will leave him because this is no longer just experimenting and sex...but so much more for Sirius.

And always, Remus gives in with a sigh, and without a word he leads him by the hand towards a place where they can be alone. An old classroom, a deserted corridor, the Room of Requirement, even some cupboards when the need is too pressing and they don't have the strength to wait and find a convenient room.

And he follows him, hypnotised, unable to detach his eyes from this figure, this body that he loves so much but that he's so scared of losing if only he would dare say what he feels.

And the more days, weeks, and months that pass, the more pressing the words are, the more they burn in his throat, as if ready to explode at any moment. But every time, on the verge of saying them, right at the peak of pleasure, he swallows them in a feverish kiss, because Remus isn't ready to hear them and because even if it kills him to lie, he'd rather suffer like that than lose him forever.

Because it's become more, so much more, and he doesn't know if he'll survive if Remus leaves him.

The minutes go by as they walk, silent shadows in these deserted corridors, searching for their shelter for the night.

In the direction they're taking, Sirius knows it will be the Room of Requirement and he rejoices inwardly. Because he knows that this room knows his desire and his fear and that it will come up with the ideal place. There, he'll be able to seduce Remus, push him to the edge until he's trapped and hope, hope valiantly that he'll finally give in, that he will be his, completely his and not just every other night.

When they pass three times before the wall, impatient, Sirius knows exactly what he wants and he hopes that his wishes correspond to Remus'.

When the door finally appears and opens, he looks around the room in appreciation. The Room of Requirement has perfectly accomplished their desires. His influence and Remus' in perfect harmony.

The half-light, the incense, the giant bed with deep blue silk covers, the large thick carpet on the ground, all of it, that is his wish. It's a call to luxury, to debauchery, and he easily recognises Remus' influence in the rest of the room.

The fire roaring softly, warming the room during these cold winter nights, the Griffindor red sofa which seems as comfortable as those in the common room, and big enough to sufficiently accommodate the both of them without any problem, the record player in a corner of the room with its various vinyls. It's natural and comfortable, warm and intimate. The softness after sex.

Sirius has always thought that they both completed one another. They are opposites, two sides of the same coin and fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. Even their bodies seem made for each other. Everything fits between them and he doesn't know why Remus doesn't understand, doesn't see it too.

Even James has noticed him looking at the young brown-haired boy. He's noticed his soft gestures, his small smile when he thinks about him, all his attentions towards him.

He has said nothing, of course, but he knows. He knows and he doesn't judge and Sirius can't help but want to cry from relief at this knowledge.

Peter has also often joked about the bond between he and Remus, saying repeatedly that, if one of them was a girl, they would be perfect for each other.

Even Evans is in agreement and recognises it. And Regulus guessed.

So why doesn't Remus realise it? Why doesn't he let him get a bit closer? Sirius wants to intoxicate him, make him as crazy about him as he is about Remus, wants to sink into him until he's underneath his skin, until Remus can no longer break away from him.

He knows that his feelings are too strong, that they might completely consume him one day, but to hell with it, he doesn't care if he burns as long as he can take Remus with him.

As the door closes softly behind him, his hand still in Remus', he laces their fingers together, to make him understand that this is what he wants, that for him this is serious.

But when Remus rests his eyes on this link between them, he knows that he doesn't understand. He thinks this is just a foolishness on Padfoot's part, a silly desire to act like all these lovers outside, those who are free to live their love out in the open.

Remus knows that Sirius isn't sincere. He knows it because there are always so many girls around him and because he loves attention, he likes to be loved and admired and the heir of the Black family only knows how to get, he doesn't know how to give.

But he knows, he has always known it and he has accepted their agreement. The idea was new and exciting and the first kiss exchanged had been wonderful. Maybe the rest would be too?

Time had confirmed his suspicions, and even surpassed them. To such a point that he'd surprised himself by preferring what he did with Sirius to what he did with Helen. But when the doubt crept up in his mind, when it became too strong, he went away for a while, refused the moments with Sirius in order to spend them with his girlfriend, to forget the sighs and groans of the young dark-haired boy, to block from his mind the way their bodies moved together, to erase from his mind these inappropriate images when he should have thought about his girlfriend rather than about Sirius when he gave himself pleasure.

So he erased all of it, blocked from his mind these ordinarily grey eyes which turn almost black under the influence of desire, this irresistible body worthy of statues of Greek antiquity, this voice raucous with desire, murmuring his name with such fervour that it always brought him to the edge.

So when he takes the both of them to the bed, he doesn't pay attention to their joined hands, preferring to concentrate on what they're doing, on what they're going to do, rather than on hypothetical feelings which aren't so important deep down.

And soon the dance starts again. The sighs and the whimpers, the pleas and the groans. They can't wait any longer and yet, Remus feels something strange. Because Sirius, despite his impatience, is softer, more tender than usual. He's considerate, almost chaste, and when he undresses him and looks at him, it's with a reverence, an admiration that Remus has never seen, or has never wanted to see.

The hunger is still there, the look is carnivorous, yes, but there is undoubtedly this tenderness in his eyes, along with something else that Remus is afraid to name.

He feels his heart accelerate under the pressure of this look and he wants to run away, to hide himself from these eyes which undress him as much as these hands, of these eyes which devour him.

Who is he, a thin boy with a scarred body, before this Apollo, this Greek god reincarnated with the mind and corruption of the devil?

And yet, he feels desired, wanted more than ever in his life and he trembles, because there is something new there, and he doesn't know if he can face it, he doesn't know if he has the strength or the courage.

"Moony," Sirius murmurs like a prayer, not moving his eyes from him for one second.

And his hands are trembling, Remus realises. His hands are trembling and he doesn't know if this is from fear or excitement, but Sirius seems so vulnerable all of a sudden...and that frightens him.

So he seizes these hands and helps them to undress him, never breaking the eye contact between them.

And little by little, he sees the tenderness disappear from the grey eyes, become once more the burning fire, the pure desire, to which he's accustomed.

"Moony," he repeats again, with such fervour that his head spins. How can a boy have such an effect on him?

And because he doesn't want to ask all these questions, doesn't want to think too deeply about what they're doing, Remus kisses him to reduce him to silence, letting his hands adventure along the familiar territory that is the young Black's body.

With time, he would have thought that weariness and boredom would take hold but every time it's stronger, every time more intense, and the fact that they never get tired of it, never have enough, is frightening.

Because when Sirius finally wants to leave him, he knows he'll have to accept it and will have to say no to the call of his body, even if it hurts.

And he's afraid, because he's more and more hooked, like he's addicted to Sirius, and he doubts that this is a good thing.

Because the Blacks break hearts like they break bodies and minds. One more, one less, what does it matter?

Almost of their own will, his hands stroke, touch, travel along the offered torso, the bulging muscles, the prominent bones, the soft skin that Remus knows he's the only one allowed to touch tonight.

So he strokes, he kisses, he savours, he licks and he feels Sirius messed up under his intentions, get out of his depth little by little.

As he travels along his neck, places insistent kisses and dares even leave his mark - but not too visible, oh no, just enough so that those who get too close will know that Sirius is already taken - on this soft, delicate, trembling skin, he can smell the salty taste of sweat and this flavour and this inexplicable odour which is undoubtedly Sirius.

A raucous whimper and fingers which bury themselves in his hair, while his body presses against him, demanding more, always more, as if he wanted to merge together.

But no, not yet, oh no, not yet.

"Remus, please, please, Rem," Sirius moans desperately, already too far, already too lost in the pleasure to care about his pride, reduced to begging and pleading for more.

And so Remus quiets him with a kiss, while continuing to stroke his body, undressing him little by little, letting the spotless shirt fall on the ground with a silent noise.

He knows that he will no longer be able to resist for very long, but he wants to make him long for it, because he knows that he has the power to reduce Sirius to a pleading creature, twisting in pleasure, and oh, how he loves this power, he loves it more than anything.

They're both naked from the waist up and their chests press against each other desperately, their skin burning where they are in contact, making their thoughts incoherent.

Unable to hold on for much longer, Sirius finally detaches himself and pulls him impatiently towards the bed, because he won't have the strength to stop himself later. Once they're both completely naked, he won't have any more control.

Remus' soft, low laugh resonates in the room and makes his soul vibrate deliciously.

Soon, they both fall on the bed, impatient tangling bodies, hands, teeth, tongues and mouths which pull, push, bite and Sirius knows that he won't last very long this time, the pleasure is already burning too strongly in his chest.

When they're finally completely naked with their skin pressing against each other, he can't suppress a sudden involuntary noise of pleasure and impatience and his body trembles, breathless with desire.

Remus' tongue is wonderful and almost makes him lose his mind, making his movements uncoordinated as he would want so much to touch him but with just a kiss Remus strips him of all power, all capacity to think, and it's unfair, completely unfair, and at the same time, he likes that, he adores that, because no one could have made him feel such need before.

And as he finally detaches himself from his lover's mouth to trail kisses along his body, Sirius knows that it's exactly that that he needs, that he wants, Remus and nothing else.

But soon impatience overtakes them again and they can't wait any-more; to hell with caresses, to hell with kisses, to hell with foreplay, they can't do it anymore!

And when he's finally inside of him, Sirius can't prevent a long moan from escaping his throat.

It's so good, so much better than anything. It's a drug and something so fabulous should be illegal.

And even if he knows deep down that this is illegal and that he doesn't have the right to love Remus as much as he does, that this is forbidden and that he shouldn't, Sirius doesn't care at all right now.

Because right now, Remus is his, only his and the rest doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter that the next day they will pretend to be no more than friends. That the next day Helen will be the one who touches him and not he, that he will have to wait a long time before being able to savour this once more. It doesn't matter if Remus might stop this thing between them at any moment. Sirius doesn't care, the only thing that matters is this moment.

And as he moves in him, struggling to find his breath, refraining from his desire to push into this body until they form one, drinking up the sight of the sweaty form, trembling and stuttering beneath him, the most erotic thing he's ever seen, Sirius feels complete.

The feeling is intoxicating and dangerous, intense and marvellous and Sirius knows that he would give anything, absolutely anything to stop time and always be like this, a part of Remus, the only way he is able to be in him and have him.

But his body and the gods don't listen to him and soon, all too soon, he breaks, and his orgasm seizes him, violently, powerfully, like every time, and as he moves and spills himself yet again in this body which he loves so much, he sees stars, he stops breathing, he collapses onto Remus, who follows him mere seconds later, and then he breathes again in his arms, as they're tangled again and his nose is buried in his neck, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart, breathing this smell he is crazy about, this aphrodisiac mixture of sweat, of sex, and of Remus.

He closes his eyes and breathes, listens to his lover's heart pounding as violently as his own against his chest, delights in being in his arms, prays to be able to stay like this forever.

But once more, no one listens, and Remus moves underneath him, informing him that now that their mating is finished, Sirius must leave.

And even if Black knows that it's uncomfortable and he needs to, that they can't stay like that forever, he regrets having to leave this body, of having to become a separate entity again, of no longer being a part of Remus.

And as he rolls on his side, feeling the sadness surface in his throat, these words that he's dying to say but that he's too scared to utter and this feeling of loss, this feeling of sudden abandonment, Remus comes and takes refuge against him, to distract him and comfort him with his warmth and here, he forgets that he doesn't have the right and that he can't, because for the moment, Remus is against him and that's all that matters.

Remus softly caresses Sirius' silky and sweaty hair, marvelling as always at the beauty of these traits, at the magnificence of this face when he comes and cries his name, at the softness of his skin, at his taste which is so unique and delicious.

He plants delicate kisses on this body that he reveres, on this face that he adores, because he feels that Sirius is tormented by something and he wants to erase these worries, make disappear the crease between his eyebrows which is more and more present every time they meet in secret.

Maybe he doesn't want to do it anymore. Maybe he finds it wrong and is tired of it, maybe he's bored and he hasn't found a convenient way to tell Remus.

But it's always Black who searches for him, it's always him who is so impatient to arrange their meetings... so why not simply stop it if he doesn't want it?

But Remus knows he doesn't have the right to make him talk, to force him. He's his friend, yes, but James is his brother and he's the one to whom he tells everything. Remus is just the convenient friend, the one who gets in his bed when he wants him to because the werewolf is too weak to say no.

So he stays quiet, lets the silence lull the both of them. Pretending like every time that the outside world doesn't exist. It's no more than a few hours lost in the middle of days and weeks after all.

The silence envelopes them comfortably and Remus is almost dozing when he hears his name murmured.

"Remus?"

The voice is hesitant, almost anxious, as if it was afraid of breaking this relative calm between them, as if one murmur would cause less damage than a yell which would start up a storm.

For a moment Remus thinks about not answering, and making as though he was really asleep.

But Sirius moves lightly against him, as though to better see his face, and he can no longer pretend.

"Yes?"

There was one unspoken rule between them. Never talk. Never talk about what they were doing, never talk after sex. As though to hide their shameful secret, act as if a "them" had never existed.

After having satisfied their desires, they often sat before the fire, their naked bodies leaning against each other without a second thought; just the comforting and warm embrace of two friends. Until they fall asleep and then leave the room in the early hours of the morning, some time apart, to leave no room for suspicion.

Because no one must know.

Another movement. This time, it's Sirius' hand which brushes his cheek. He opens his eyes, to meet the grey look which haunts him much too often to be healthy.

But there's something in these eyes which scares him. There's torment and fear in them.

"Remus?"

As if to assure himself that he heard him.

Oh, he already guesses the words that Black is going to say. He's prepared himself since the first time they slept together. But they never came. Never.

Until today.

Yes, it was good, but we need to move on to other things now.

And yet...Sirius doesn't speak. He hesitates, uneasy. As if he didn't know how to approach the subject without doing too much harm. Without hurting him.

Because Remus isn't just one of the girls that he takes as he pleases, is he? Remus is a boy and one of his best friends. He can't just dump him and ignore him afterwards. The situation is complicated and he should have thought twice before embarking there. Because how would they explain to the others that now, Padfoot and Moony can no longer be together? How would they explain why their friendship shattered?

A bitter taste rises in his throat. He would definitely pay for breaking the rules so impudently.

He looks into Sirius' eyes and smiles weakly, moves the hand which seems to want to comfort him.

"It's not worth it to tire yourself, Sirius. I know. I understand."

Sirius moves back in shock. The grey eyes open wide with surprise, and they're full of regret, shame, fear and sadness.

"You...know?"

Remus nods his head softly, not removing his eyes from Sirius' form which seems to curl up into itself in shame.

A soft understanding smile, a hand on Black's shoulder. "We don't have to tell the others. We can act like nothing happened. Everything can stay like before."

"Like nothing happened? But..."

Remus cuts him off, his expression more firm, more resolute. "It was a mistake, Sirius. We never should have let it go so far. I know it's as much my fault as yours, I don't blame you for anything. It was...inevitable, I imagine."

Sirius' face hardens little by little. The glimmer of sadness in his eyes disappears, leaving no more than this emptiness, this nonchalance which is so characteristic, so typical for him.

Inevitable.

As if it was a defect, a sickness.

And then deep down...He'd always doubted it himself. He'd really been an idiot believing that, because now that they slept together, Moony was going to fall in his arms.

Before, there had always been room for a bit of softness, sometimes even conversations - breaking their unspoken rule - by the corner of the fire, where they were just friends and not lovers.

Now...now, this was impossible. They had definitely crossed the invisible barrier. The forbidden could no longer be ignored, be tolerated, be admired.

It didn't matter if they both liked it, it was wrong and illegal. It was just a matter of time before their consciences caught up with them.

They redress in silence, the both of them, backs turned, their eyes diverted, bodies far away from each other.

Because it's still too tempting and they don't need to risk it.

It's still pitch black night outside. At this time, they usually sleep in each others arms or have sex once more.

Now, they were leaving each other.

The pain was there. Dull in their chests, but perfectly real. Just because they were too afraid to say what they felt aloud. Afraid to give too much meaning and depth to what had from the beginning been an experiment like any other.

Remus turns his gaze towards him, smiles softly, his hand held out in silent invitation.

"Are you coming?"

Sirius shakes his head, wraps his arms around himself, stares at the fire burning softly in the hearth.

"No, I'm going to stay here for a bit."

Remus complies, prefers not to push him. Black has his reasons for avoiding him. He's undoubtedly afraid of the uneasiness between them when they would re-enter the dormitory side by side, when just an hour before they'd been in bed together.

"Do you want the map?" he asks, trying to get any sort of reaction from Sirius.

May he look at me. May he stop ignoring me. May he stop acting as if this between us had never existed!

But Black's gaze rests adamantly fixed on the flames, far away from him.

"You don't need it?" he responds, his voice light, as if it was a conversation like any other.

This indifference makes him sick.

"No, I can manage without it."

"Ok. You can give it to me, thanks."

Remus understands that he needs to leave, that he's no longer welcome.

In some hours, he would already be replaced after all. Well, how could he blame Sirius? He had Helen, after all.

Feeling a stab of guilt at the thought that he'd betrayed his girlfriend's trust, he tells himself that this decision was for the best.

Yes, they should have stopped this a long time ago. Shouldn't even have let it start, from the beginning.

Yes, it was better that they break up. It had been a mistake. Pleasant, delicious, intoxicating, exciting, maybe...but just a mistake.

Some years from now, or even less, they would regret what they'd done together.

Without a doubt.

Certainly.

When the door softly closed behind Remus, Sirius didn't react. He continued gazing at the fire, as if he wanted to burn his eyes just by the vivid brightness of the flames. To punish them for having observed a body that wasn't marked out for him, wasn't permitted to him. To no longer be tempted to commit this sin again.

He wanted to scream, cry, smash everything, but he did nothing. He just had to swallow his emotions. Make them disappear.

Because once he leaves this room, Remus and Sirius will no longer exist. It will be the Marauders, like it's always been and like it always should have been. He never should have let it get out of hand. Never should have wanted that.

It was bad. It was immoral. It was forbidden.

And with significant ease, he convinced himself that it had all been disgusting. That it had never been anything more than a foolishness, a madness of his mind. That no, it had never been so good, that no, he had never loved it.

It was filthy. It was vulgar. And he just needed to fix his mistakes, erase these revolting touches between them, burn all of the memories.

Bringing himself to the bathroom in the room, still naked, he entered the shower, turning the tap until a spray of boiling water touched his skin.

That alone could purify him.

He rubbed his skin until it was red, until it hurt. He then turned the water on the coldest temperature.

Sticking his head under the knob, the ice-cold water revived him, then, little by little, made him numb.

When he started to shiver from cold and become too numb, he finally decided to get out.

His body had been purified, but not his mind.

As he dried his body, ran a towel through his hair, Remus' words came back in his head:

"We can act like nothing happened."

But it had never happened. Never. All of it had been no more than a dream resulting from an over-active imagination and a perverted mind. Remus and him? Ridiculous! Come on, it was forbidden!

"It was a mistake."

A mistake?

And here...Here, he could no longer pretend.

A lump rose in his throat and he found it hard to swallow. No, he wouldn't cry. No, he wouldn't break. He wasn't that weak, he wasn't that...

He cried.

Angrily wiping away these tears, he reprimanded himself aloud.

"Boys don't cry. Griffindors don't cry. Blacks don't cry."

And as if this last sentence had hit the target, he stopped crying.

He was Sirius Black. The heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. He couldn't let anyone manipulate him, he couldn't let anyone have such control over him.

Blacks don't give, they take. They break, they corrupt everything that they touch.

All of it...It had been no more than a test. No more than a boundary pushed a bit further. Would he manage to make Lupin fall? Would he manage to convince the perfect prefect to defy the forbidden?

Yes, the experiment had succeeded but he had gone too far. He never should have put his heart in it. Now...he just had to fix it.

"It was...inevitable, I imagine."

Inevitable? Maybe. Maybe, somewhere, he had wanted it to happen. Too late to regret it now.

He redressed without enthusiasm and left the room, without looking back. Inwardly, he prayed: disappear.

At breakfast the next morning, nothing seemed to have changed. Sirius was beside James, Remus and Peter were facing them.

There were still laughs. There were still jokes. There were still conversations. There was still a good mood. Nothing seemed to have changed.

Puzzled and worried despite himself, Remus watched Sirius closely. Black showed no sign of tiredness, of sadness or anything of the sort. It seemed as though a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders; he laughed, joked, charmed. Black the heart-breaker was back.

He wasn't the only one to have noticed it.

James made no remark, but followed Remus' eyes, in an almost unnerving way, almost too scrutinising. His gaze seemed to be waiting for the first false step, the first thing which would confess the mistake committed.

But it didn't come.

The days passed.

Sirius seemed to have totally forgotten what had happened between them. He acted as if nothing ever was. He was back to normal, moving on to new conquests, inventing more jokes every day. If it hadn't been for his gaze, which seemed to pass over Remus as if he wasn't there, one would never have noticed that he was different.

After all was said and done, neither of them mentioned the short time spent together. They acted as if nothing ever was and efficiently erased it from their memories.

The situation was no longer the same between them. And if they suspected one another of being a traitor during Voldemort's accession, this lack of communication was maybe the cause of it.

Two dead, one in prison and the other barely alive. This is how the Marauders ended up.

Because to taste the forbidden...one must pay a price.

A/N: The Taste of the Forbidden was started mid-June 2009 and was originally, written at one time. The first version was a happy end, because I wanted to change from all the dramas that I write and please my readers. Unfortunately, passing it through the network that can be considered my beta (my friends who see my text before hand and give me their opinions, which is very precious to me), the diagnosis was irrevocable: it didn't seem like me and it had a rushed, unfinished, taste. As a result, total rewrite of the end and you have the final result – finished mid-July 2009 - before your eyes.

So yes, it ends badly, yes, this is drama. I'm still not completely satisfied but I don't want to redo this fic again, it would end up disgusting me. But if you want the "happy end" version, ask and I could post it following this one.

I await only your opinions =)

EDIT ! The "happy end" version won't be published following this fic but has been posted on my LJ, which you can find the link to in my bio. Thanks.

T/N: I haven't translated the 'happy end' version as of yet, but if enough people express a desire to read it, I'd be willing to translate it as well.