Disclaimer: Not my boys. Not my beans, either. Making no money from this.

A/N: Fun. Slightly dirty. Very slashy. And set in afuture where the War is over, Voldemort is dead, and Sirius has returned to this world.

Words of Advice

"Sirius… be reasonable. Please come out of there."

There was a snort from the other side of the door. "The answer was 'no' twenty minutes ago. It'll be 'no' twenty minutes from now. Lemme alone."

Remus Lupin sighed. He had no desire to leave Sirius Black in there; for one thing, he – Remus – would need to use the bathroom at some point. As he pondered his next move, there was a faint tap-tap-tap at the bedroom door. Abandoning Sirius to his sulk for the moment, Lupin went to the door and opened it. He found Ron Weasley there, clad only in pajama bottoms, his face flushed nearly as red as his hair.

"Professor Lupin! Um… This is so embarrassing…"

"It's all right, Ron," Remus said comfortingly. "Do you need, ah, help of some kind?"

"It's Harry. I – I think he's hurt. I think I hurt him."

Lupin called over his shoulder, "I'm going to leave you alone for a while, Sirius," and was answered with a sharp, "Good!" Remus picked up his wand and followed Ron down the hall to the other bedroom. When they got there, Remus found Harry lying on the bed, face down, covered to his waist and naked above it. He sat down on the bed next to the seventeen-year-old wizard.

Harry looked at him sheepishly. "This is so embarrassing."

"Well, you're not the first person in the world it's happened to. I've been in your position, and I mean that quite literally, I'm afraid."

Despite his embarrassment, Harry gave a little chuckle.

"I'm going to pull down the covers, Harry."

"Do you have to?"

"I have to know what I'm dealing with, so I can use the right healing spell."

"We're never doing this again," Ron muttered.

Remus turned to him, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. "Don't say that, Ron. Yes, it hurt this time. That means you learned something."

"Yeah, we need lube," mumbled Harry.

"That's exactly what it means. Next time, you'll do it properly. Harry, I'm going to pull down the covers now."

"All right."

Remus made a brief inspection, then said, "It's not as bad as it could be. This will be easy to heal."

He etched a few sigils into the air his wand, while murmuring a healing spell. After a few moments, Harry breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"Feel better?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Put some weight on it to be sure," said Remus, pulling the covers up again. "Roll over and sit up."

Harry laughed, turning. "You've been with Padfoot too long. 'Roll over! Sit up!'"

Remus grinned. "I make him beg, too."

Remus was used to making little jokes that made Ron Weasley blush; he figured he'd gone too far, though, when even Harry turned red.

He turned back to Ron, trying to sound like a responsible adult. "I hope you don't mean what you said earlier, about never making love again. The two of you have been through hell together; you deserve whatever joy you can get. Now," he continued, standing up, "crawl back into your bed with your boyfriend and cuddle. You've earned it." And he went back to his bedroom, to try to coax his lover from his hiding place.

When Harry and Ron went down for breakfast – lunch, really, given the hour – the next day, Ron found a little package outside their door, with a letter attached. He opened the letter at the kitchen table, while Harry made breakfast.

"It's from Professor Lupin," he said. He'd never been able to break the habit of calling Remus 'Professor.'

"Mmm, read it. Do omelets sound good to you?"

"Omelets sound perfect. OK, here it is:

'Dear Ron and Harry' – hey, he put my name first!"

"It probably comes from a lifetime of being half of 'Sirius and Remus' instead of 'Remus and Sirius.' Go on."

"'Dear Ron and Harry,

'I hope you aren't still too embarrassed about last night. You're both young, but surprisingly inexperienced for your age – well, I say inexperienced, but it's possible that you're quite normal and that Sirius and I were especially precocious.' What's 'precocious' mean?"

"It's a polite word for 'slutty,'" said Harry, grating cheese. "I found a picture of them while I was going through the attic last week. They were snogging each other's faces right off. They can't have been more than thirteen or fourteen, either."

"Who takes a picture like that?"

"My dad, actually. There was a note on the back from him. 'Quit staring at yourselves making out and notice whose bed you're on. I told you!'"

"Must've been your dad's bed, then."

"I reckon. What else does the letter say?"

"'– precocious. Sirius and I will be out most of the day. You know that Sirius and I are happy to provide you with a tolerant and comfortable atmosphere to be together – "

"That sounds like the calm before the storm," muttered Harry.

"Those omelets smell really good, Harry."

"They'll be done in two shakes. Set the table?"

Ron accio'd some glasses, plates, and silverware – stainless steel, really – and got juice from the fridge. "Shall I go on?"

"Might as well."

"It doesn't look all that bad, really. '–together and I thought you might need some privacy right now. Actually, it's Sirius who needs the privacy. He spent half the night hiding in the bathroom, after Harry had that tremendous orgasm around three a.m. He remains a bit nonplussed.'"

Harry nearly dropped the skillet. "I thought you said it wasn't that bad!"

"I hadn't read that part!" Then, after a moment, "What does 'nonplussed' –?"

"It's a polite word for 'he thought he'd seen it all, but you shocked him.'"

"Quite a lot packed into that word," Ron observed.

Harry nearly made a joke about packing but decided against it; Ron was already blushing heavily. He served the omelets.

"Well, go on. Let's get it over with."

"'–nonplussed. Now, I offer you some words of advice that I wish someone had given me when I was your age – actually, when I was about thirteen, but at the same stage in my relationship with Sirius as you two are now.

'First, a simple "extendere" charm will lengthen any silencing spell by as much as three times. We can practice that later, if you like.

'Second, I've written down a variety of healing spells. Frankly, given what you two have been through fighting Voldemort, I'm shocked that you haven't learned some of the basics already. Every wizard should know these, regardless of his sexual proclivities.' What does 'proclivities' –?"

"It's a polite word for 'whether they're buggering each other up the arse or not.'"

"Professor Lupin knows some damned polite words."

"Well, he is a scholar."

"'– proclivities. We'll practice the healing spells, too. As someone who has need of them on a monthly basis, I can assure you that they are quite flexible.

'Third, I stopped off at a shop in Diagon Alley called Remarkable Inventions. It's got household items and muggle devices in the front; in the back – which you have to be of age to enter and prepared to show I.D. – they have an extensive line of things you ought to know about. I've assembled a small starter package for you.'"

"Right, let's open it," said Harry, attacking the package. Inside were a number of plastic tubes.

"'– starter package… I tried to get a variety of flavors,'" Ron continued. "'I know you and Harry both have a fondness for chocolate and peppermint, and that Harry despises pineapple. Fortunately, they label it, so it's not as haphazard as the beans.' As the beans?"

"'Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Lubricant,'" Harry read from the side of a tube. "Right, that's incredibly disturbing."

"That's one of those things I hope my parents don't know about."

"Ron, your parents have seven children. I think they've heard of sex."

Ron blushed even more furiously. "They don't need lube!"

"Merlin, I hope you're right." He didn't want to think of Arthur and Molly Weasley knowing about (or needing) lubricant either.

"'Fourth, the lube is simple enough to use. For heaven's sake, don't just rub it on your penis and have at it. Preparation is key. That means lubing your fingers first and inserting them, one at a time, in order to stretch the muscles. No more than three fingers, and you might want to stick to two at first. I suggest a simple scissoring motion. Sirius prefers something he calls the Loop-De-Loop, but Sirius is double-jointed. Oh, and there's a nice little spot once you're in far enough. Ron, I expect you touched Harry's last night, which is why he made that rather astonishing noise – the one that sent Sirius into hiding. You'll be happy to know you've got a spot like that too."

Harry said, "I'm impressed you got through that without stammering."

"I'm planning to go into convulsions later."

"I'll join you."

"'Fifth, you should be going to Diagon Alley yourselves later on. You'll need to pick up gifts for an infant and probably something to cheer up Molly Weasley, or at least calm her down. Sirius suggests something for newborn kittens, which is a good sign, as it means his sense of humor is returning.'"

"What's that about?"

"I'm not sure. 'Finally, there's a note from Hermione on the window. It arrived by owl this morning. Sirius and I have already sent our congratulations –'"

"Congratulations? For what?"

"'Hermione is pregnant. She won't be getting married, as she isn't sure whether the father is Fred or George. However, she'll be moving in with them into a new flat in London. The address is in her letter.'"

There was a long silence.

Finally, Harry got up from the table, went to the window, and read Hermione's letter. "It's dated 30th March," he announced.

"I was sort of hoping it would say 1st April," said Ron.

"Yeah, that's why I checked."

"Sirius is right about my mum having kittens."

Harry sat back down at the kitchen table, holding Hermione's letter, omelet forgotten. Ron was diligently inspecting the tubes.

"Coconut. Don't like coconut."

"No, but I do."

"Oooooh, buttered popcorn!"

"Popcorn? That's odd."

"No odder than chocolate, really."

"I suppose."

"So, she's really pregnant?"

"She must be," said Harry. "She wouldn't send a note like this as a practical joke."

"Fred and George might."

"Yes, but your mother would kill them."

"You're right," said Ron. "It'll be her first grandkid. You don't joke about that. Ooh, cherry!"

"Bit late for cherry."

"For you, yeah, but not for me."

Harry gaped at him. "You mean it?"

Ron grinned. "Well, Professor Lupin went to an awful lot of trouble. I'd hate for all that effort to go to waste."

Harry reached up and caressed the other boy's cheek. "So considerate," he murmured. "That's why I love you."

"Oh, it's not that," said Ron, gathering up the tubes. "I just re-read the paragraph on how to use the lube and now I really need to try it."

Harry laughed. "We'll clean up in here later. Race you!"

They both won.