Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from the Harry Potter stories, and I also
do not own anything from the stories. Sorry to dissapoint you. My apologies
that this chapter has taken so long to get out. Laziness is a deplorable
curse. Sorry a million times over. -_- On with the chapter.
Chapter 6
Sirius' POV
I'm having the most wonderful dream. I must be in Heaven because this place is beautiful. Everything is so green. There is even a lovely waterfall. A glimmer of shining light brown near some dense trees catches my eye. It's gone, leaving behind a long shadow.
"Padfoot," an angelic voice calls softly. Oh, that voice! It's so magnificent! The very sound if it makes me euphoric. "Padfoot, wake up!" Wake up? If this is a dream, then I hope I dream forever. James' face cones into view as the sun and my whole body seems to spring to life.
My eyes open slowly and I see James' face hovering over me. Dreams do come true. . .
"What's huh," I mutter sleepily.
"Is this letter true," James asks. "Do you really feel that way about me?"
Oh God. . . I silently sit up, looking down at the floor. Here it comes. The disgust, the rejection, the shame. He'll probably never talk to me again. I don't blame him. It isn't his fault that I am a fag or that I like him.
"Yeah," I whispered into my hands.
"Sirius, I --"
"No, James, it's okay. Look, I was way out of line. I should have never gave you that letter."
"But Sirius, I --"
"If you don't want to talk to me anymore, that's fine."
"Sirius --"
"It's okay. Just forget I wrote that. I'll just go on about my life and be a gay twit. Don't take it the wrong way if I say that if you tell anyone that I'll have to hex you all the way to hell."
"Sirius."
"Prongs, you don't need to give me any kind of excuse. It's fine. I'm all right."
"Sirius!"
"It's a little blow to my ego, sure, but that's al right. I'll get over it. You know, it's not like I'm -- mwph!"
James just sealed his lips over mine, cutting me off. My eyes go wide in surprise. So, does this mean that he likes me? I hope so, because he sure is a good kisser. He slowly pulls back and stares into my eyes.
"Can I talk now," James asks. I nod slowly, silently, my mouth hanging open. A small chuckle comes from deep in James' throat.
"Good," he says. " Sirius, I don't hate you. I could never hate you! And I don't want to stop talking to you. I just. . .can't believe that you feel like that. I never noticed it at all."
"And if you had," I ask quietly. I keep my voice quiet for fear of ruining the moment, and waking Peter or Remus who must be sleeping soundly. I can hear Peter snoring from his bed. That is so annyoing. . .
"And if I had, I would have done this."
Before I can ask what "this" is, James holds my face gently between his hands and kisses me again. Unlike his hands, his kiss is anything but gentle. His lips crush upon mine demandingly. This is just like a dream come true. . .
We are fighting for control, trying to pin one another down on my bed. I am taller, but James has grown slightly stronger from all of his extra Quidditch practice. It is only a matter of time before I am pinned under him, him straddling my hips. Grinning mischeviously, I arch my back, pushing my hips up against him. He breathes a shuddering moan. His hands grip my shoulders tighly.
"Padfoot. . ."
The lustful way he moans my name just spurrs me on. As I raise my hips again, I pull his lips down, hard, against mine. This is what I've wanted for years. It seems so natural. People say that this sort of thing between two males is wrong. . . How can it be wrong? It feels so good, so natural. So what if it was wrong? Damn those who disapproved. This couldn't possibly be wrong.
Chapter 6
Sirius' POV
I'm having the most wonderful dream. I must be in Heaven because this place is beautiful. Everything is so green. There is even a lovely waterfall. A glimmer of shining light brown near some dense trees catches my eye. It's gone, leaving behind a long shadow.
"Padfoot," an angelic voice calls softly. Oh, that voice! It's so magnificent! The very sound if it makes me euphoric. "Padfoot, wake up!" Wake up? If this is a dream, then I hope I dream forever. James' face cones into view as the sun and my whole body seems to spring to life.
My eyes open slowly and I see James' face hovering over me. Dreams do come true. . .
"What's huh," I mutter sleepily.
"Is this letter true," James asks. "Do you really feel that way about me?"
Oh God. . . I silently sit up, looking down at the floor. Here it comes. The disgust, the rejection, the shame. He'll probably never talk to me again. I don't blame him. It isn't his fault that I am a fag or that I like him.
"Yeah," I whispered into my hands.
"Sirius, I --"
"No, James, it's okay. Look, I was way out of line. I should have never gave you that letter."
"But Sirius, I --"
"If you don't want to talk to me anymore, that's fine."
"Sirius --"
"It's okay. Just forget I wrote that. I'll just go on about my life and be a gay twit. Don't take it the wrong way if I say that if you tell anyone that I'll have to hex you all the way to hell."
"Sirius."
"Prongs, you don't need to give me any kind of excuse. It's fine. I'm all right."
"Sirius!"
"It's a little blow to my ego, sure, but that's al right. I'll get over it. You know, it's not like I'm -- mwph!"
James just sealed his lips over mine, cutting me off. My eyes go wide in surprise. So, does this mean that he likes me? I hope so, because he sure is a good kisser. He slowly pulls back and stares into my eyes.
"Can I talk now," James asks. I nod slowly, silently, my mouth hanging open. A small chuckle comes from deep in James' throat.
"Good," he says. " Sirius, I don't hate you. I could never hate you! And I don't want to stop talking to you. I just. . .can't believe that you feel like that. I never noticed it at all."
"And if you had," I ask quietly. I keep my voice quiet for fear of ruining the moment, and waking Peter or Remus who must be sleeping soundly. I can hear Peter snoring from his bed. That is so annyoing. . .
"And if I had, I would have done this."
Before I can ask what "this" is, James holds my face gently between his hands and kisses me again. Unlike his hands, his kiss is anything but gentle. His lips crush upon mine demandingly. This is just like a dream come true. . .
We are fighting for control, trying to pin one another down on my bed. I am taller, but James has grown slightly stronger from all of his extra Quidditch practice. It is only a matter of time before I am pinned under him, him straddling my hips. Grinning mischeviously, I arch my back, pushing my hips up against him. He breathes a shuddering moan. His hands grip my shoulders tighly.
"Padfoot. . ."
The lustful way he moans my name just spurrs me on. As I raise my hips again, I pull his lips down, hard, against mine. This is what I've wanted for years. It seems so natural. People say that this sort of thing between two males is wrong. . . How can it be wrong? It feels so good, so natural. So what if it was wrong? Damn those who disapproved. This couldn't possibly be wrong.