Author's Note:

1.) I'd say this chapter is, instead of PG-13, more like PG-15…not that anyone probably even pays attention to ratings anymore (I don't, anyway ^_^).

2.) Gah!  I have recently discovered that James was, instead of the Seeker I had always pictured him to be (and also how he is described in the movie – oh, canon-confusing travesty! *swoons tragically*), he is in reality a Chaser!  (I'm sure this is old news to most people, but it gave me quite a turn.  I read this in JKR-authorized material, as well. *sigh*)  So, my point is, I changed the Quidditch-practice scene.  Bloody hell.  And crackers.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Part Four: Snitches, Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

tuesday, high noon

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

            Remus quickly stuffed his pockets with food and escaped from lunch, claiming he had left his History of Magic essay on his bedside table.  He strode purposefully across the grounds, finally plopping down, with his back to a tree, at the far, far end of the lake.

            Ahh.  Peace.  And quiet.  And thoughtful alone time.

            It wasn't that Remus necessarily wanted to escape from Sirius; Sirius had been a dream come true the last few days.

            Sirius had always been a dream – a dream completely remembered but always out of reach, begging for his longing, his dreaming, his sighing.  Now that he had touched the dream, made love to it, everything seemed frightening; he felt he was spinning out of control.

            With just one nod of his head he could give in – give Sirius what he, for so long, had been aching to give – himself, completely and utterly.  But he was unsure just how far Sirius would be willing to take this.

            His thoughts, when Sirius had kissed him the first time, were chaotic, even if his manner was calm and collected and wry.  It didn't matter, he thought, Sirius would break his heart no matter what the circumstances…

            But one cannot miss what one has never had.

            Remus felt so out of place when he thought about their affair when he was alone and un-tempted by Sirius' physical presence.  It seemed so unlike him, so like a fantasy that he would have embarked on this whirlwind relationship.  Snogging in the corridors…orchestrating detention so they'd have private time all to themselves…casting silencing and locking charms on their bed curtains…even kissing in front of James…

            Remus felt completely and thoroughly out-of-character.

            It just wasn't like him, this physical relationship.  Moony had always thought, when he did get in a relationship, that it would be all roses and chocolates and starlight, not come-hither looks and frantic groping and must-have-you-now's.

            It was exhilarating and refreshing in all the ways it shouldn't be.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

tuesday, late afternoon

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

            Sirius bounced aimlessly on Remus' bed, waiting and waiting and waiting…and waiting…

            Remus hadn't shown up for afternoon classes – behavior that was so unlike him that Sirius was worried.  Remus never missed classes, except on the days after the full moon.  The black-haired boy had scoured the castle, even pulling out the Marauder's Map when the going got tough.

            But no Moony.

            So, putting aside the rather flippant excuses he told himself that Remus was okay, Sirius was beginning to feel worried.  When Sirius was worried, he began to count things.

            There were seventy-five ripples on the left side bed curtains, including the ones that flattened out halfway down; there were eleven curly parts on each bedpost; there were seventeen knots in the wood floor between his and Remus' beds; there were twenty-seven drawers, eight pillows with twenty-eight tassels, four trunks, fifty-two books/magazines/comic books, four blankets with ten small fraying holes and two large ones, and sixteen bedknobs in the whole room.

            Remus had fourteen books neatly bookended on top of his bedside table.  Hmm.

            Sirius' eyes scanned over the titles:

            "From Ashwinders to Zombies:  A Guide to Dark Creatures";

            "The Bhagavad-Gita";

            "Illuminating the Dark Arts";

            "Frankenstein";

            A book with an unmarked spine, which Sirius recognized as the only known      autobiography of a werewolf;

            The "Lord of the Rings" Trilogy;

            "The Rise and Fall of the Dark Wizard Grindewald";

            And some Muggle books:

            "Crime and Punishment";

            "The Neverending Story";

            "The Hound of the Baskervilles";

            "Human Psychology and Sociology";

            "A Collection of Short Stories by Edgar Allen Poe";

            "Jane Eyre";

            And last but not least:

            "Astronomical Anomalies"

            All seemed to be well-worn and dog-eared.  Sirius had a sudden, starry-eyed hope that Remus would touch him and love him as much as he had these books.

            The black-haired boy collapsed back onto the pillows, rolling over on his stomach and inhaling the indescribable scent that was purely and simply Remus.

            Mmmmm.  Lovely.

            Remus was so perfect and fragile…no, he wasn't fragile – years of monthly pain and shame and the persecution of his kind had led him to put up such a wall around his emotions and his feelings and parts of his true personality that no one could safely say they knew everything about Remus Lupin.  The young werewolf felt he had to be strong at all times, to never be fazed by anything said or done, to put a brave face forward always, and to never ever let anyone see how lost he was.  There was a time late at night were Remus seemed to let himself go; for the past few days Sirius had seen this firsthand – the languid relaxation; the sexy, throaty giggles; the way he would bury his face in Sirius' shoulder and Sirius would hold him tight and safe and protected…

            Sirius pulled one of Remus' pillows close to him, wrapping his arms around it and burying his face in its comforting, velvety squishiness.  If he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent ingrained in the bedding he could almost pretend that he was holding Remus in his arms, instead of just the pillow.

            The black-haired boy whined, a very canine sound, as he pushed his nose against the pliable material in front of him.  Right then, he missed Moony so much it was a little bit painful.

            Alright, so, if Moony was there, what would the young werewolf do?

            First, he would come over to his bed and pull back the curtains.  Then he would see Sirius there, and say something like "Oh, honestly, Padfoot" or "What are you doing, Padfoot" or "Oooh, Padfoot, shag my lights out right now"…

            Okay…so maybe that last line was a little out-of-character…

            Anyway, then he would either grab a book and join Sirius on the bed, or just join Sirius on the bed.  Sirius was definitely rooting for the second choice.

            After than there would either be a little light reading turned into a little light snogging, or maybe just a little light snogging, or (Sirius hoped) something a little less "light".

            Then they would either fall asleep together without getting ready for bed; stay awake and talk and flirt and kiss and then fall asleep without getting ready for bed; fall asleep and then get up, feeling kind of gross, and then get ready for bed; or get up right away and head towards the bathroom to get ready for bed – which would always take a very, very long time because Remus brushing his teeth and looking all disheveled was the second most adorable thing Sirius had ever seen in his life (the first also involves Remus, but is very private and quite naughty), and he could never resist stalling (read: turning it into a rather long snog in front of the bathroom mirror) for a while.

            Sirius whined again.  Suddenly there was nothing more desirable in the entire world than just hearing Remus walk through that door.  Sirius felt he could have gone without food for a week if Remus would just come back.  He could even do without the new racing broom he had been eyeing in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

            The thought that this had all started as a manipulative form of revenge had all but fled his mind.  Remus = life, love, pleasure, touch, true smiles at three o'clock in the morning, the loss of undesirable restraint; Revenge on James = fun most of the time; incredibly amusing a lot of the time, because James always took things like this so seriously; and the only reason two members of the self-proclaimed dream team would be at odds with each other.

            Well, one option seemed to be coming up lacking.  Revenge on James.  Really.  What a silly and childish game.

            Again at the end of a train of thought, Sirius whined, held the pillow closer, and once again began to count.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

            Peter was watching James fly.

            James Potter flying high on a broomstick was one of the most heart-wrenchingly exquisite things he could imagine.  On the ground James was all arms and legs and unlaced shoes, but in the air he was graceful, he was perfect, the curve of his spine arching slightly up and away from the smooth wooden handle, hands placed evenly in front and a look of intense, beautiful concentration on his face.

            Peter cupped his chin in his hands, leaning forward until his elbows were braced on his knees.

            This was crazy.  He wanted James so, so badly.  He felt like crying as James expertly caught the Quaffle from a teammate and tossed it gracefully, unthinkingly, in an effortless, experienced formation, across the field.  He caught it once more and sent it sailing through the center hoop.

            Suddenly, Peter had a crushing want to be the Quaffle, to be that broomstick – to be anything that came in physical contact with James on a regular basis.  James.  Lovely, lovely James.  Peter could have lived with being the toast James ate for breakfast, if only…if only James would touch him…

            James had made another goal.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

tuesday night

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

            Remus had fallen asleep against his tree on the far side of the lake.

            He had a dream – something involving a sphinx, a punch bowl, and Sirius; Remus could have sworn that he himself had been a girl at some point in the dream, but it was gone now, all dream-logic forgotten.  He stood, and the dream flew completely out of his mind as he was brought back to reality.

            He was sore.  And stiff.  And he had the beginnings of a headache.  Not to mention the fact that his tongue felt like sandpaper.

            Eww.

            He stumbled off towards Hogwarts again, certain that he had missed supper.  His stomach rumbled ominously, and he mused that he could probably rope Sirius into going on a kitchen raid with him.

            Oh.  Sirius.

            Damn.

            Remus stopped in his tracks.  Did he really want to see Sirius at the moment?

            God yes…er, maybe not.

            What would happen if he did come across Sirius?

            Mind-blowing pleasure!…er, awkwardness because he doesn't feel the same way about me as I do about him.

            And what would happen then?

            More mind-blowing pleasure!

            Er…I would grab a book at head down to the common room.

            And then?

            We would fall asleep all tangled together and deliciously tired but before that Sirius would kiss me in that unique way he does when it's late at night and I would just melt under his touch and…er, I would finish my nightly reading and get ready for bed and go to sleep.

            What would happen next?

            We would wake up in the middle of the night and realize that we hadn't gotten ready for bed (again) and so we would head toward the bathroom and Sirius would distract me while I'm brushing my teeth (again) and the brush would clatter unnoticed in the sink as Sirius comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me and tucks one hand inside my shirt and just beneath the waistband of my pants, fingers splayed against my stomach, and he would slide his other hand slowly down my arm until our fingers were woven together, and I would lay my head back on his shoulder and watch us in the mirror as he begins to tongue lightly along my jaw as the minty flavor of the toothpaste still burns in my mouth…

            No, I would be asleep.

            Remus shivered in anticipation.  Who was he fooling, anyway?

            The trip up to the dormitory was uneventful; Remus paused for a few minutes to watch the Quidditch practice, to be secure in his knowledge that there would be no one in the dorm except he and Sirius.  He could see James flying, and oh – he'd just made a goal – and whenever James had Quidditch practice Peter would be there in the stands.  It was a simple fact of life.

            Remus rounded the corridor that led to Gryffindor Tower, muttered the password ("mugwubble"), and headed through the common room.  There were several close-knit groups of younger students that had pulled all the furniture in circles (and one group that had pulled the furniture – and some blankets – into a great-looking fort).  One such group of second-year girls smiled and waved at Remus, and when he smiled and waved back they collapsed into fits of giggles.  The young werewolf grinned to himself as he mounted the stairs to his dorm, hearing the squeal of "he's so dreamy!" waft up the stairwell behind him.  He laughed.

            Upon entering the dormitory, Remus' first impression was that it was empty.  Then he pulled back the curtains on his bed and discovered Padfoot there looking up at him with mournful, black eyes.  At the sight of Remus, the shaggy black dog leapt up, tail thrashing the curtains behind him.  He let out a soft bark and a whine, pushing against Remus' chest with his nose.  Then he leaped, pushing Remus to the floor, and began enthusiastically licking Remus' face and hands.

            Remus let out a shout of laughter as his back rather unceremoniously met the floor.  He ran his fingers through Padfoot's long fur and scratched him behind the ears, and when he began rubbing the dog's tummy Padfoot let out a plaintive whine and rolled onto his back, eyes closing and front feet pawing the air in ecstasy.

            Then he wasn't Padfoot anymore, but Sirius, and Remus found himself pinned to the ground, Sirius' rather obvious arousal pressing insistently against his thigh.

            Remus bit his lip and arched into the embrace as Sirius placed a soulful kiss on his lips.

            "Where were you?" Sirius murmured around the kiss, hands caressing hips and arms and shoulders and finally coming to rest tangled in Remus' hair.

            "I had…some…thinking…to do," Remus gasped out as the black-haired boy began sucking on his earlobe.

            "I'm glad you're back," said Sirius in a soft, low voice that buzzed delightfully in his ear.

            Remus sighed in pleasure as they began to kiss again; it was as though he had gone without air for an entire day and just now he was able to take a breath.  "So am I," he said just before wrapping his legs around Sirius' hips and pushing hard against him.  Sirius let out a panting breath, burying his face in Remus' neck.

            This continued for a few more minutes until Sirius turned them over, Remus straddling his hips and holding himself up with white-knuckled hands on Sirius' shoulders.  His eyes were dark and hooded and wanting, and Sirius took this opportunity to push Remus' robes off his shoulders and to begin unbuttoning the other boy's school shirt as well.  The brown-haired boy threw back his head, panting, arching his back as Sirius' hands grazed his chest, his own hands coming to a rest on Sirius' stomach.

            Sirius looked positively Dionysian with his back to the floor, his darkish skin in shadow and his silken hair splayed out over the floorboards.  "Remus…" he gasped out, hands pressing against the werewolf's hips.  "Oh I love you…"

            Remus leapt back as if he had been hit, breath coming in short gasps as his back met one of the thick poles of his four-poster.  "What did you say?" he said hoarsely and frantically.

            "What?"  Sirius struggled to sit up, feeling groggy and disheveled, hormones still racing through his bloodstream and hair a horrendous (though fetching) mess.  "I said I love you," he said, voice pleading for Remus to come back and finish what he'd started.

            "You can't love me," Remus gasped out, hands squeezing together tightly to still their trembling.  "You just can't."

            Sirius moved forward, determined to show Remus just how much he did love him, but before he'd moved a foot Remus had lurched to his feet and stumbled out of the dormitory.

            "Shit," Sirius groaned, smacking the hardwood floor with an open palm.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

(swish and flick)

Finitum Part Four!

To be continued…

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~