Here we are again. Tell me what you think!

Chapter Eleven – The Lunch That Crashed

For a while, Harry and Sirius did nothing but stare out the window, at the rain which was pelting down from the cloud-covered sky. Harry reflected that his brain must be working at an extremely slow pace for things still seemed a bit unclear to him. Such as Sirius having wanted to kiss him ever since he came back, and the fact that that revelation really ought to scare Harry halfway to France (he could take up teaching at Beauxbatons and fill his mind with thoughts of pretty girls instead). The thing was, however, that he was not particularly scared. He was comfortable with Sirius by his side, breathing, and more honest and vulnerable than Harry had ever seen him before. And what was, maybe, even more unsettling was that Harry could not at all, try as he might, drag up any semblance of desire to spend the rest of his days surrounded by loads of girls, no matter how pretty and Veela-like they were.

When he could think of nothing else to do, Harry dropped back on to the bed to stare at the ceiling instead. In the corners there were clusters of dusty spider webs long since abandoned. He was contemplating whether he had the energy to raise his wand and remove them when Sirius, too, lay down and turned his head to the side so that Harry could see him properly.

"So… What did you think of it?" Much to Harry's surprise, some, if not all, of the agony was gone from Sirius' voice.

Harry frowned. "Think of what?"

He could have sworn he saw a twinkle in Sirius' grey eyes. "Of the kiss, of course."

"Oh…" Harry's cheeks grew warm as his brain charitably replayed the memory for him. "Um… Well, you kind of surprised me… I guess I wasn't really thinking very much…"

"Hm…" Sirius looked troubled at first but then a small smirk began playing in the corner of his mouth. "But you didn't throw up afterwards…?"

"Of course I didn't throw up!" said Harry indignantly. "You think I was disgusted or something?"

Sirius shrugged against the bedspread but his smile would not quite go away. "I'm a bloke, Harry, and I'm assuming – though I could be wrong – that you're not really into blokes."

A small, completely irrational, part of Harry wanted to claim that he indeed was into blokes, but that would be an outright lie so he swallowed down that reply. He had never spent time scrutinising his preferences; he had gone out with Cho and with Ginny and had assumed, he supposed, that he was into girls.

"I guess not," he said quietly, but almost reluctantly. Then he frowned. "Are you? I mean, you're…"

"Gay?" Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Check. Very gay."

"Oh," said Harry again, as the world tilted a little sideways and he tried to fit the pieces of this new puzzle together. "I didn't know."

"We never got around talking about it," said Sirius simply. "I would have told you, though."

"You would?"

"Yeah, sure." Sirius sounded very casual about it, as though it was no big deal at all.

Harry bit his lip, not sure whether it was appropriate at all to ask any questions. But in the end, after what had happened at the Ministry, he figured he had a right to know. "Did, um, does anybody… else know?"

Sirius nodded slowly. "Your dad knew. And Remus." A wholly different smile, a slightly grateful one, danced over his face, but it was followed by a sigh. "Snape knew too… actually. And Lily, of course… And Dumbledore, eh, figured it out."

"Figured it out?" Harry turned over to lie on his side, cradling his injured wrist to his chest. The sharp pain had been reduced to a dull pounding. He peered at his godfather, wondering if he should see him in a different light now.

"Yeah… In my sixth year, he kind of stumbled upon me and this Ravenclaw bloke, Nicholas, one late night down by the Hogwarts lake, you know. He very kindly ordered us back to our respective dormitories. I never figured out if it was a coincidence or if he had seen us sneak out of the castle."

Sirius must have interpreted Harry's shocked expression correctly because he grinned. "It wasn't that bad. We were fully clothed. Dumbledore too." He winked at Harry who wished he would stop blushing.

The idea of the old Headmaster wandering about the Hogwarts grounds undressed was not one Harry was keen on contemplating for too long, but the suggestion that Sirius might have done the same was both disturbing and worryingly enticing. "Uh, good," he mumbled.

Sirius' eyes bore into him. "Mhm."

Harry's throat had gone dry. "So," he forced out, not sure what he wanted to achieve by that. "No one else knew?" he added.

The grey gaze released him. Sirius sighed. "I went out with a couple of blokes, Nicholas being one of them, but mostly I lay low. My relationship with my family was already somewhat, ah, strained, and they would have made it none the easier on me had they known I was gay… Pure-bloods are not gay, you see. We live to breed."

Harry wanted to reach for his hand and squeeze it, but he did not move. He did not know any more how such a move would be judged. "I'm sorry," he said instead.

"Yeah, well… James and Remus were supportive. They knew the truth."

"What about… Wormtail?" asked Harry. "Peter, did he know?"

At this Sirius actually chuckled. "Even if he'd seen me shag another bloke with his own eyes, I don't think he would have understood. 'Gay' simply wasn't part of his vocabulary." Sirius, too, turned on to his side and propped himself up on one elbow. He looked down at Harry. "But let's not talk about the past any more, hm?"

"But…" Harry shifted on the bed. Sirius was very close to him now, so close that he could feel his godfather's warm breath on his cheek. "But when I saw you in Dumbledore's Pensieve, you always had lots of girls drooling over you…"

"So I was good-looking," said Sirius with a one-shouldered shrug. "The less people who knew of my preferences, the better. If I had girls following me around – hoping I'd ask them out – that meant my façade was intact."

Harry wanted to ponder this, to add this new layer of information to what he had thought to be some kind of ultimate truth, but it was hard to focus when Sirius was watching him so intently. "The posters…" he said slowly, "of the Muggle girls…?"

"Oh, those," said Sirius, back to casual. "I put them up too fool my parents. And because I knew they abhorred Muggle stuff in general. Since they were Muggle produced, the posters didn't bother me as the girls didn't prance about in their bikinis." He gave another shrug. "I have nothing against women, I just prefer men."

Harry wished he could feel as careless as Sirius sounded but that was impossible. He had never really thought of himself as a man, but it was impossible now not to let the word echo through his mind. Did Sirius think he was a man? When had Harry stopped being a boy and had become a man? He looked up into Sirius' face, quite aware of the fact that in spite of everything, to him Sirius was still good-looking.

"So you're gay."

"Yes. Does that bother you, Harry?"

He wondered if he imagined that Sirius' voiced had dropped a notch. He shook his head against the bed. "No."

Sirius only nodded softly. He lifted a hand and it hovered hesitantly for a moment in the air above Harry's cheek before it descended to brush against his temple. Harry was barely aware of himself holding his breath. He exhaled slowly, as though scared to disturb the silence as Sirius' long fingers wove themselves into his hair.

"Nothing like James…" mumbled Sirius. His wide sleeve lay draped over Harry's shoulder as he worked his fingers further into the jet black mess of hair.

"I thought you didn't want to talk about the past," breathed Harry, as his heart picked up a faster beat.

"I don't." Sirius' fingers snaked their way to Harry's neck. "And I wish I didn't want to do this either…"

Harry's question was only a whisper, "Do what?"

The reply was barely audible, "This."

Gently but firmly, Sirius urged Harry's head backwards a little, baring his throat. Too lost in the frantic pounding of his heart to question what was happening, Harry complied, agreeing with whatever Sirius wanted him to do. Sirius' fingertips were exploring the skin hidden by the neckline of Harry's t-shirt and his lips had parted slightly. Wide-eyed, with fear now tugging at the edges of his awareness, Harry saw those lips draw nearer and nearer, little by little, as though he were watching a film in slow-motion.

He could feel Sirius' touch on his neck and when he could no longer focus on the grey eyes that were so close now, his vision blurred, and Harry's whole world was reduced to one shining pool of silver. He didn't breathe as he waited for Sirius to close the remaining distance between them, but the kiss never came. A rush of heat that was his godfather's sigh raced across his lips instead, in a cruel mockery of a what-could-have-been.

"James would kill me." Sirius' fingers pressed into Harry's skin. "I can't do this…"

Harry's lips were tingling for a promised kiss that was quickly transforming into an unattainable desire. He could not think straight, and nor could he say what was wisdom and what was folly, but one thing he knew, "My dad's dead."

"I can't, Harry…" Frustration and desperation were leaking into Sirius' voice. "I promised James…"

Harry tried to focus on his godfather's face but they were still too close. Every word Sirius spoke danced over his skin tauntingly and he needed a more solid touch than just rushes of air brushing his lips. "Please…"

But it was not working. "I promised him, Harry… I promised James I would take care of you..."

"You are taking care of me," said Harry quietly, his own determination rising in the face of an all too quickly building disappointment. "My dad is dead, Sirius. He won't know…"

Three irregular heartbeats steeped in fear passed before Sirius cupped the back of his head and drew a deep breath. In his exhale, his words were barely detectable, "Oh, Harry. I fucking promised him."

It was like a bittersweet finale to a long struggle when Sirius first kissed one corner of his mouth and then the other. Harry wanted to scream for more but lay powerless as his godfather's lips pressed against his brow, his cheek, his chin – anywhere but his lips. Harry's eyes had fallen closed and he felt as though he were being sucked into a deep, black void of rejection, which was not really rejection at all. Never before had he experienced such a bone-deep longing for a single kiss. Sirius was holding him in place, was almost draped over him, but still Harry was denied what he most of all wanted. He tried to turn his head so that their mouths would come together, but as soon as he moved, Sirius withdrew and came to rest his forehead against Harry's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Sirius, and he sounded both angry and rueful. "I can't…"

Harry tried to see reason, he really did. They should not be doing this. It was wrong. And considering that Sirius was his godfather and so much older than he, it was very wrong indeed. But Sirius wasn't that old, a part of his mind objected. He was thirty-eight and that was not too bad.

Sirius' hair fell in waves around his face and Harry wished he had had the sense to see Hermione before storming up here because he did not think his wrist was up to some twisting so that he might tangle his fingers in those tresses and comfort Sirius where he lay. Unwittingly, his godfather solved the problem for him because, with a heavy sigh, he lifted himself off Harry and made to sit. His robes were crumpled and creased and his face was set.

Without thinking, Harry scrambled into a sitting position too, and when he was not chased away, came very close, shyly hugging Sirius from behind. As Sirius pulled his uninjured arm around his waist and threaded their fingers together, Harry knew a yearning so strong and powerful that he could barely think. It was as though this sensation chased every thought from his mind so that he should be left empty to fully feel. Uncaring about his slightly awkward position and his desire to remove his glasses, Harry rested his cheek against his godfather's shoulder; all that mattered right now was that he was allowed to touch Sirius and knew that Sirius wanted to touch, even kiss, him in turn.

Time crawled by in the bedroom on the fourth floor in the ancient house of Black. Time also eventually found them again lying on the bed, Sirius now curled around Harry, both of them having drifted into a light doze. Harry had kicked off his trainers and Sirius his shoes, and, if only to feel a bit more cared for, the latter had draped a blanket over them both.

Awareness first returned to Harry when a faint pop! found its way into his shapeless dreams. Drowsy and disoriented he at first had no idea where he was, but then he felt the solid form of Sirius pressed against him and heard his godfather's even breathing. A sadness of sorts drifted through him and yet he was inexplicably happy. He blinked in the dreary daylight and spotted a tray with a steaming teapot and a load of sandwiches precariously balanced on top of the wardrobe. In his current position, Harry could not reach his wand and he could not see Sirius' either and so he had to rely on the good judgement of the tray and hope it would not decide to take a tumble.

He was about to mould himself against his godfather again when he felt Sirius shift behind him. The older man mumbled something indecipherable and Harry inevitably smiled.

"Hm?" he offered in return.

"Hmm..." Sirius buried his face in Harry's hair and gave something akin to a purr.

A thrill passed through Harry's stomach at the sound and it took some effort to remind himself of where they stood on this issue. It was odd how his heart could feel both so incredibly light and so very heavy at the same time. "There's food," he ventured.

"Mmm..." Sirius' hand slid down to his belly and caused a shiver to race across Harry's skin. "Within reach?"

Harry swallowed, trying to steer towards safety and neutral ground. "Atop the wardrobe."

"What?" Sirius pushed himself up. "Bloody house-elf," he muttered when he spotted the arrangement. "Are you hungry?"

"Not very," said Harry truthfully. He missed the warmth that had vanished when Sirius had moved.

"How's your wrist?"

"It can wait."

Sirius seemed to ponder this and for a moment Harry thought he would get up, Accio the tray and send for Hermione, but then he lay down instead, his hand once more finding Harry's belly. "It's not me doing this," he murmured, as he gave the t-shirt a small tug to reveal the skin underneath.

Swallowing, Harry tried to find his voice. "No?"

"Nope." Sirius' fingertips were warm as they explored a very small patch of very unshielded skin. "Could be anyone... All it takes is some Polyjuice..."

"That's really disturbing," Harry managed, wanting to smile but not quite able to focus as a fingertip dipped into his navel.

"Very disturbing," agreed his godfather, his hand travelling upwards again, revealing more and more of Harry's belly as it went. "Tell me if you liked it."

"Liked it?" Harry found it harder and harder to breathe properly now. He shivered as Sirius traced a pattern near his solar plexus.

"The kiss."

He sounded like he was choking when he spoke, "I thought we weren't doing this."

Sirius did not exactly finish his artwork on Harry's skin; he only took a brief break, his fingertips sort of dancing in one spot. "We aren't?"

Harry had known pain all right, but this was a completely new type of ache. He felt like squirming, only he couldn't remember at all how to move. "You said..." He wished Sirius would be satisfied with this poor attempt at reasoning but his godfather said nothing. "You said you couldn't..."

"Actually..." Sirius resumed his dealings with Harry's chest, "I think I can but I shouldn't, if you see the difference?"

"But..."

"I've never been famous for my good judgement, Harry."

Harry meant to draw a deep and steadying breath to clear his head, but Sirius suddenly pressed very close to him, and left an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. "Maybe I've changed my mind?"

"But I thought..."

"I think you're thinking too much." Sirius' lips brushed his neck again and his voice dropped almost to a rumble. "Don't you want me to do this?"

To be honest, Harry did not know if he had wanted Voldemort to die as much as he wanted Sirius to kiss him and touch him right now. He was vaguely aware of nothing making any sense whatsoever; Sirius had been so miserable only hours ago and now he was quite changed, first acting responsibly and sensibly (as responsibly and sensibly as it got with Sirius, that was) but now he seemed to have decided there was no fun in that. Harry's heartbeat picked up as he must concur: this was definitely the far more exciting choice. And it was also probably one of the stupidest things he could ever agree to.

"Yes, I do," he mumbled.

"Good..." Sirius' fingertips slid over his skin, pushing the t-shirt as far up as it would go, "because I want me to do this too."

There was a heat pooling in Harry's stomach. It twined around the base of his spine and he did not know what was happening until the very moment he could feel it seep even deeper into his body, heading downwards; and he gasped when he felt his cock give an initial twitch. Squeezing his eyes shut, and with burning cheeks, Harry prayed fervently that his godfather had not heard him and put two and two together. He tried to will his body's reaction to Sirius' touches away, but to no avail. Sirius was teasing his earlobe with gentle nibbles and kisses and Harry was hard-pressed not to groan.

Somewhere between panic and ecstasy, Harry suspected that it might have been he who had not put two and two together all that cleverly before. Or, indeed, that he might have neglected to do it at all. If Sirius was gay – and it certainly appeared as though he was exactly that – maybe then he expected Harry to... In his confused state, the words would simply not come to him, but Harry's confidence sped off into the unknown. And then several things happened at once.

Sirius's hand left his chest and slid to cup his hip; Harry could not stop the moan that slid past his lips, just as the tray atop the wardrobe decided it had had enough and dived for the floor. To add to the deafening crash that ensued, Hermione's call raced underneath the firmly closed, but not locked, door:

"Harry? Sirius? Are you in there?"

"Fuck." Sirius shot up from the bed, his hand leaving Harry's hip to cast the blanket aside. "Yeah, we're in here!" he called to Hermione in a rough voice that sounded like it had not been properly used for ages. "Just..." He cursed under his breath, rummaging around for his wand.

To Harry it was as though he had been plunged into ice cold water. He dragged himself up into a sitting position and yanked his t-shirt down, gathering more of the blanket in his lap. He was not hard, he had nothing to hide. But nevertheless he felt exposed, as though somebody had ripped protective armour that he had not known he was wearing off him. Meanwhile, Sirius had found his wand and with a jerky wave of it, he shoved the mess that had once been lunch into a corner. There was a large wet stain on the threadbare carpet where the teapot had crashed.

"Harry..." Sirius turned to him and it was hard to tell what he was thinking. He looked guilty.

"It's OK."

"We're... Listen, we can –"

"It's OK." Harry was not sure why he was repeating that but it was the only thing he could think of to say.

Sirius opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again. His grey gaze, still carrying a trace of the desire he had known only minutes before, swept over Harry. Then he slid off the bed, smoothed down his robes and ran a hand through his hair. Harry watched him open the door and let Hermione in.

She was dressed in Muggle wear, a navy blue cardigan and jeans, and she had pulled her bushy hair into a ponytail. "I just wanted to know what the Ministry... Harry?" She took a cautious step closer to the bed. "Are you all right?"

Sirius cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, the Ministry visit wasn't much of a success..."

"What do you mean?" Hermione turned to him, brows furrowed, attention caught. "What did they say?"

Harry let his godfather speak. He had almost forgotten his hatred for Ministry bureaucracy and whether or not Sirius was considered alive by them seemed to him a small detail now. He knew Sirius was alive, he knew that very well, and he thought he knew enough to assume that things would never be the same again.

TBC