Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the Harry Potter Series, which solely belong to J.K. Rowling, et al, but that hasn't stopped me from writing about them.
Warning: This story contains the themes of sex, underage-sensuality (chang), and male/male relationships, a.k.a. slash/yaoi. If any of these may offend you, then stop reading. If, however, you do read this, in spite of my warnings, and find it offensive, then I have to say it is your own fault. Some scenes are of an erotic nature, but I have attempted to write them as tastefully as my ability allows.
Note: I will not accept any flames, however, comments and criticisms are welcome. I am under the assumption that anyone reading this has a clear understanding of the difference between flames and criticisms so I don't have to explain it. Here are some reason why I don't accept flames: 1) they generally include an attack on the author's character without regard to previous or future works that may or may not be in the same vein, 2) not only are they childish, but they make the writer of them sound immature and not old enough to read the material contained herein, 3) flames help neither the author nor the flamer to improve the work and, therefore, are not constructive, 4) if something is so offensive as to elicit the impulse to flame then it is better forgotten and not dwelled upon, 5) you waste time writing it and I waste time reading and then deleting it, 6) it won't do you any good to point out my lack of scruples, morals, intelligence, sanity, etc., because not only don't I care, but I won't listen.
This is the first several in a series of drabbles I have posted on my livejournal, which you can find on my profile. Because they're all drabbles they might be a slight telescoping of time and such. I hope this does not offend too much.
This will be SLASH, but first I must work up to it. This is a sort of mental study. The NC17 drabbles will be posted at my lj.
Thank you for your kind regards and any reviews (not flames) that you will allocate to me.
Always Forever
::What I Would Give Up for You::
Words: 378
"Harry?" Familiar, storm-blue eyes, carelessly long black hair—also familiar.
[Surprised?] Malicious eyes burning with the vitality of hundreds of stolen lives, nearly lipless mouth parted to reveal pointed teeth.
If a dream mated with a nightmare, this situation would be their spawn. Before me stands my…my godfather. But he can't be…He…The Veil—
This has to be a trick! Yes, this is another of Voldemort's mind games. I won't fall for it this time. I won't!
S-Sirius would never step between me and Voldemort—protecting him, defending him against me. My S-Sirius wouldn't—!
But he looks…
The hand pointing my want at my godfather's chest shakes badly.
No. No. No!
"Harry," the simulacrum of S-Sirius says, "Put down your wand, please." That voice, that gently commanding voice, so perfect, so real!
[Yes, please do,] the demon behind him hisses—in Parseltongue.
"No!"
"Harry…" He holds out his hands and smiles—oh god, that's his smile—gently. My breath wheezes out of my suddenly constricted throat. Sweat burns my face. I can't stop shaking. Oh god, is this him? Oh…
"You're not him!" I scream, no longer able to hold my wand level. Wildly it jerks with the convulsive spasms of my arm.
He steps closer. Please no. I back up. He's not real. A lie!
[He is, though. He is your godfather.] Voldemort watches with superior amusement. Bastard! Fucker!
[Shut up! Shut up!] I rage, answering him in his own vile tongue. Something hot and wet slides down my cheek. No, I'm not crying, dammit! I'm not some…some baby!
[Don't you think that I have it within my power to bring someone back from unnatural death if I wish?] I shake my head.
No. NO!
This isn't happening. This isn't how it's supposed to be! I'm here to kill him, Voldemort, or him me. Not S-Sirius…his part is over. He's…He's…
"Please, Harry."
Oh god! Oh god! I want this to be him. His face, his eyes, his voice, all how I remember, dream…
If this is him…S-Sirius…
I can't, oh god, I can't…
I can't kill him!
Not again!
The want falls from my hand. It clatters to the floor and rolls away.
"S-Sirius!"
Warm arms surround me. His familiar scent fills me. Sirius! Sirius!
I'm home.
::To Trust and Pretend and Try::
Words: 369
Strong yet gentle fingers massage shampoo into my scalp. Warm water cradles my body. With my eyes closed I can pretend everything away. If I open my eyes I will see the black marble tub and the strange glowing orbs set in sconces about this opulent bath of the Dark Lord. I can pretend it's just Sirius and me, at home—wherever that was, certainly not Grimmauld.
"Do you trust me, Harry?" Sirius asks softly as he continues to wash my hair. No one has ever done this for me, I don't think. My relatives…Well, the less about them the better all around.
"Of course, Siri." I love him. He's everything to me. I…I gave up everything else…
Pretending is fun. It makes everything better. Pretending means there is no Dark Lord; my godfather never died; Harry Potter is a normal boy.
"I know this is hard. Close your eyes." I obey and warm water sluices over my head. Tenderly he works out the soap. "But I need you to try and do something for me."
Anything he wants I'll do. Anything.
"Of course," I murmur as he begins to soap a washcloth.
"I need you to try and trust Lord Voldemort." I flinch. I don't want to think about that…demon. But Sirius says…
Carefully he drags the soft cloth over my shoulders and down my back. I lean forward.
"I-I don't know." He presses his lips against my ear and sighs softly.
"I know it's hard, Harry, but would you try?"
Voldemort killed my dad and mum…but he gave me back Sirius—though he was the one who took him away in the first place. That…demon has done so many horrible things; I know this; I see everything when I sleep. So how can I trust him or even try to?
Because Sirius wants me to. It's that simple. But I don't know if I can…
"Harry?" Long fingers take hold of my chin and gently turn my head to meet his eyes. "Please?" So much kindness, so much love. I can't deny him anything.
"I'll try, Siri."
His gratified smile is sunshine. It is paradise.
As long as he's happy and we're together, everything will be fine.
::I Only Think of You::
Words: 473
The bed is an ocean of cloth and down. I manage to claw my way to the surface while Sirius laughs and is generally of no help. It was his fault in the first place: he tossed me in. I give him an annoyed frown, but secretly I am…happy. This is how we were supposed to be before…that.
Pajamas and fun. Stories and affectionate pats on the head.
I don't need a father and Sirius knows this. He was supposed to be the uncle everyone loved. He didn't get to be that, either.
But there's all the time in the world now!
With a contented sigh Sirius falls onto—into—the bed. I let out a little squeak as the bed dips violently and I roll over onto him. He lets out a grunt as my limbs strike him.
"This bed is a bit—" he starts.
"Soft," I conclude. We both laugh. He hugs me.
Perfect.
Somehow we manage to sort ourselves out, limbs and all. Quietly he whispers nox and the room is plunged into sheltering night.
I've never shared a bed with anyone before. I've never had someone to hold me while I tried to sleep. Not even when I was little. I was always on my own, had to defend myself against nightmares and such. It's nice to know that Sirius will do that now.
"Siri?" I whisper as I curl up next to him. Protective arms encircle me and I'm pressed close to his warm, broad chest. So close I can imagine crawling inside and living beside his strong heart.
"Yeah, kiddo?"
"Will you tell me about my parents?" He suddenly tenses. "Siri?" A gusty sigh ruffles my hair.
"I-I'm sorry, but I can't…The Veil…" Such pain fills his voice. I want to erase it. I feel guilty for making him unhappy. We're supposed to be happy now.
I hug him tightly.
"You don't have to. I'm sorry."
"No…I want to…but…Harry, I can't remember."
I jerk in surprise and peer up at him through the darkness. I can't see his face, but I can imagine the sorrow etching more lines into his haggard face. He can't remember?
"When I was…brought back, I could only remember the last thing I was thinking of." He crushes me to him, tucking my head beneath his chin. "You were the last thing on my mind before I—died."
A poignant joy rips through me.
"Siri!"
Me, his last thought was of me! No one else, just me!
"I love you, kiddo," he whispers as he kisses my head.
"I love you, too, Sirius."
We're together and that's all that matters. Nothing else. Let anyone try to part us now. I'll kill them. Kill them without a second thought. No one will take this—him—from me without a bloody fight.
No one.
::Metallic Paralysis::
Words: 490
Sleep rolls back when I find cold sheets beyond the warm pool of my own body. Slowly I grope about for the reassuring presence of my godfather. All I find is more chill. Unease pricks my spine.
Where is he? Where has Sirius gone? It wasn't all a dream? Please no…
Panic rushes through my body and I scrabble frantically with the sheets and blankets. Panting, sweating, eyes and mouth wide open, I emerge from the trap of a bed.
"Sirius?" I call into the blur of my surroundings. I paw at the bedside table for my glasses. Focus arrives with their placement upon my face. A new panic wells up as I see the room clearly. This isn't my room, neither the one at my relatives nor the one at Hogwarts…This is…Then it couldn't be a…He has to be…He's not…
"Siri?" My voice is so small, so childlike. I'm not a child! Why do I have to sound so scared?
[He's away, child.] Hissed from behind me, the hated voice brutalizes my ears. Him!
Murderer. Killer. Evil fucking bastard!
But Sirius said I had to learn to trust him. I had to. For Sirius…
Sirius who only remembers me. Sirius who has come back to me.
I cannot swim to the surface of the fear and hate drowning me. They fill my lungs and mind. The metallic taste of my own fear-driven heartbeat drips across my tongue.
Cold, so cold. Can't move. A helpless mouse in the viper's gaze.
Oh god, it's him. He's in the room with me—alone. Where's Sirius? Where's my godfather?
[Calm down,] the demon hisses coldly. A wave of power slaps into my face. With a painful stutter my lungs draw in oxygen again. [You were about to pass out from hyperventilating.]
The truth of Voldemort's soul has been etched into his new body. Snakey. He is a snake's skin stretched across the frame of a man. Cold, reptilian, inhuman. Poisonous.
"Where's Sirius? What did you do with him?" The demon laughs, voice nearly a soprano and filled with snake-like sibilance.
[Nothing, but don't you just jump to conclusions?]
"Where is he?" He blinks slowly, crimson eyes glowing with deceptive softness.
[Am I his nanny, boy?] Barely constrained danger shadows his words.
Mustn't anger him. That would be stupid. But—
[He is speaking with a renewed acquaintance.] The demon inspects his nails and then smirks. [You would do well to learn to regulate that tongue of yours. I could quite easily kill you.] The smirk turns into a sinister smile. [But I'm willing to compromise, child. Mr. Black is yours, but only so long as you are loyal to me. That means no assassination attempts.]
"I…"
The door opens and Sirius steps into the room. My heart gives a painful lurch.
He's unhurt. He's here for me.
All I have to do is trust Voldemort.
Can I do that?
I look at Sirius.
Yes…