The Sins of their Father

Author's Note: Harry Potter and the rest is to J.K. Rowling.

Despite the title (I'm a total NIN fan), most of this chapter was written listening to Kidney Thieves's Trickstereprocess. The song "Pleasant" in particular being one which theme I borrowed from shamelessly. And finally, more actual R/S thrown in, although I prefer to call this the 'recap chapter' in which I lose the voice I used in the previous ones. Haha.

Chapter Six: The Downward

James looked at the lunar chart again, chewing on his thumb (a habit his mother had tried in vain to break him out of). No matter how he looked at it, sideways and upside-down, the chart still told him that there were only five more days before the full moon. Five days that Slughorn had mentioned to Lupin as the only time the valet had left and considering that the very first thing James saw Lupin doing was checking a lunar chart, James was willing to bet the devil his head that Lupin did not need reminding of this fact.

Feeling somewhat like trying to swim through a pool of jelly, James made a mental list of all the facts he'd gathered so far. There was John Lupin, who was probably killed by Voldemort although no one can really be sure of what had happened to the bloke. Years later, John's halfblood son Remus shows up working for a household primarily known for their pureblood mania. Remus Lupin who had a very pressing reason to work as Sirius Black's valet, presumably, because James had heard about the way the Blacks treated the servants they didn't like and James was sure even a masochist would need to be hard pressed to go through something like that.

And of course there was Lupin's conversation with Slughorn. The butler had been firmly convinced that Lupin was up to something, something probably related to Sirius (whose name had come up more than once), and that Lupin only had five days left to do whatever it was he needed to do.

James frowned, mulling over what Lily had told him earlier. Some members of the order suspected Sirius Black of leading goblin rebellions. But why rebel now, after years of keeping mum and counting gold at Gringotts? Because Voldemort was trying for social reforms now, James answered himself. Reforms that made provisions only for purebloods. Ironic for the goblins to rally under a pureblood, then. But James appreciated the gesture: dark creatures and halfbreeds alike thumbing their noses at the self-styled Lord by using one of his own (a Black no less) as the figurehead of their cause.

Black was Lupin's lover.

Lupin was bound by some way to the coming of the full moon.

James sat up his bed suddenly. Slughorn was extremely suspicious of Lupin, but had accepted the boy into the household anyway because he probably didn't have a choice in the matter. And who had the happy power to curtail the butler's actions? The Blacks, of course. There was no reason for any one of them to want Lupin to work for them. No reason at all, except of course Lupin happened to be Sirius Black's plaything.

"What if," said James, softly so no one else would hear him. He had his own room like the other servants, of course, but Slughorn was known to walk around the house checking to see that all the bolts were still bolted and that nothing has caught fire since the last hour he had done his rounds. "Black and Lupin knew each other before Lupin got into Grimmauld Place?"

A good question, James, he told himself. Another question would be how?

Because Lupin was a werewolf. That was what consulting the moon chart was all about. That was why he was always wearing gloves (it was impossible not to come in contact with silver in such a museum of a house). That was even probably how he got all those scars.

So Lupin was a werewolf. How convenient for Black that his lover was a halfbreed who can so easily slip in among the goblins and other assorted dark creatures that he was supposed to be leading to revolt. All that was needed was an excuse to have Lupin become a quasi-permanent fixture at Grimmauld Place. And so the Blacks hire a new valet. Black couldn't have gotten himself a better spy if he'd made one with a blueprint.

One problem that presented itself to James was that Lupin never left the house at all, never received any kind of correspondence (James had made sure to check that) and rarely talked to anyone but Slughorn and their employers. If he was Black's contact, where the hell did he get his information?

There was also the chance that all of this was buggery and there was a different reason entirely why Lupin was there, but James found that unlikely.

First things first, James decided. Most of his hypothesis rested on one fact, after all, which he needed to prove before he could work on the rest: he needed to find out if Lupin was allergic to silver.

*

Soft rustling of leaves touching each other, grass part to make way for soft-footed steps, twigs break.

The night was a myriad of sensations: shadows against a darker background; smell of the forest and the air itself, sharp and almost metallic; the low-hanging branches brushing against toughened flesh; the sounds. And always, the soft silver glow of the moon hanging bloated from the sky.

He was confused, sweeping the horizon with eyes that glittered amber in the dark, sniffing the air gingerly, ears straining for sounds other than the noises of the night and all its denizens.

There it was: a scream. Thundering footsteps. More twigs breaking.

He followed the sound, heart racing in excitement, movement unhurried because he was painfully aware that no prey has ever escaped him.

But he was hungry.

*

Remus woke up to the taste of blood.

"Lumos," he said, reaching reflexively for his wand although the tip of it ignited even before he could lean over to where he had left it on his nightstand.

He pressed one hand against his lower lip, which he had probably bitten in his sleep, the pain of the gesture pushing away the grogginess left by interrupted sleep. His fingers came away bloody and at least there was a reason for that taste, warm and salty and coppery that he found disturbingly comforting. Familiar.

"No," he said softly, leaning back so that his head was resting against the headboard of his bed. He wasn't sure if the word was a denial or a negation, but the sound of his own voice in the silence of his room made him feel somewhat better, so he said it again, "No."

Several seconds passed with him looking listlessly at the cracks on the plaster of the ceiling, his hand rising desultorily to dab at the cut on his lip with the cuffs of his sleeves. He tried not to lick at the wound, frowning a bit as it began to itch.

Well, Remus thought, there goes all chances of me getting more sleep tonight.

He noticed that his hands were shaking when he reached out for his wand, but he ignored that as he swung his legs out from the bedcovers, feet brushing the cold stone floors before he could slip on his slippers. "Nox."

*

One moment, Sirius was having quite an interesting dream concerning a dragon and treacle tart and the next he was half-sitting on his bed holding up his wand against someone's neck.

"Lupin?" he slurred, eyes focusing on the unmistakable shock of hair. Because he was Sirius Black, he did not lower his wand. "What happened to you?"

The other boy made a noise at the back of his throat, an almost growl that he cut off abruptly with a sigh. Now that Sirius was not so stupid with sleep anymore, he noticed that Lupin was wearing nothing but a flannel nightshirt and that there was something like dark wet string trailing down his mouth to where his collar revealed a pale V of his chest.

"Remus?" he said, more softly.

Lupin flowed into the bed next to Sirius, the sudden movement making Sirius drop his wand with a helpless curse. He heard the clicking sound that was his wand hitting the floor but then Lupin was straddling him, the warm weight that Sirius felt keenly even through the bedcovers, and he suddenly found it hard to even remember to breath.

"Touch me," said Lupin thickly, rocking his hips against Sirius's. "Please touch me."

"Sweet Merlin," Sirius hissed, through clenched teeth. Lupin's hands curled around his collar, pulling him forcefully upright.

"Please, Sirius," Lupin gasped, almost whimpering. They were close enough that Sirius could feel the boy's breath tickling his upper lip, the fluttering of Lupin's eyelashes against his cheek.

Sirius reached out with one hand and slapped Lupin hard enough the boy's head snapped backward, the action leaving a rent in the atmosphere of the room, and Sirius felt a change in Lupin: a focusing of attention.

"Did that feel good?" said Sirius, tracing the curve of Lupin's reddened cheek gently with his fingertips.

Lupin smiled, not meeting Sirius's eyes. "Fuck you."

"Such language! Is that what you want?" said Sirius, with a ghost of a smile. He waited for Lupin to shake his head before pulling the boy close, tugging at his hair to tilt his head slightly, kissing him. There was a strange metallic taste on Lupin's lips, wet and sticky. Sirius remembered the stringy stain trailing down Lupin's chin, realising that it was blood as the tip of his own tongue found the cut on the boy's lip. Lupin made a small complaining sound as Sirius began sucking on his lower lip, his hands reaching up to tangle into Sirius's hair, pulling at the strands until it felt like he was trying to tear them from the scalp.

"Don't," said Lupin.

"And who assaulted a sleeping man in his bed, hmm?" Sirius stopped anyway, satisfying himself with licking away the blood from Lupin's chin, following it down to the boy's prominent collarbones. Lupin didn't ease his grip on Sirius's hair. "You can be such a pushy little slut, did you know?"

"Who's enjoying it?" said Lupin, moving forward and tilting his head to one side as Sirius began to nibble on his neck. Sirius could feel the boy shiver on top of him as he slipped his hands under Lupin's nightshirt to touch warm skin underneath.

"Lupin, that's not the way a servant talks to his master."

"Your hands are cold." Lupin's voice was almost sulky, breathless. Sirius didn't know what had gotten the boy so rattled in the middle of the night as Lupin obviously was, but Sirius found that he liked Lupin better when he was acting more like an actual human being and not like a servant.

"Well, you're warm," Sirius pointed out, tugging at Lupin's night shirt to reveal more of the boy's skin. He kissed Lupin again when the boy opened his mouth to say something, tongue flirting lightly with Lupin's lower lip before he pulled back. "You know if you wanted to talk you could have just asked me."

Lupin exhaled. "No."

"Tell me."

"You think I'll tell you my secrets," said Lupin, finally meeting Sirius's eyes. "Because right now I am vulnerable."

"Do you have secrets, Lupin?" His hands stilled in their exploration of the other boy's body, moving away to start unbuttoning Lupin's nightshirt. Lupin, distracted, didn't seem to notice. He was naked under the shirt, Sirius found out.

"We all do," said Lupin, with the suggestion of a shrug.

That was true enough, Sirius conceded, although it took him a moment to put Lupin's words together and understand what they meant. "What should I do now?"

"Sirius—"

"No, tell me."

Lupin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, cupping Sirius's face tightly between his hands. Sirius felt the boy's nails biting into his skin even as Lupin leaned over to rest his forehead against Sirius's.

"Make me forget, for a while," Lupin whispered, voice tight again, growling. Sirius shivered in spite of himself. "Lose myself in you. Force me."

Sirius pushed Lupin off, ignoring the boy's moan of protest. His breathing sounded too loud, harsh, even to himself. He threw aside the bedcovers, fingers trembling over buttons, sound of clothing tearing. Lupin watched him, eyes wide and showing too much white. His pupils were dilated, the black of it swallowing the color of Lupin's eyes.

"Ride me," said Sirius.

Lupin said nothing, crawling instead towards Sirius, over Sirius, until he was straddling the latter again. And then Sirius was thrusting inside the boy's opening, not bothering to prepare Lupin, hands keeping a viselike grip on Lupin's hipbones. Lupin hissed in pain, leaning down to bite at the tip of Sirius's ear, murmuring incoherently.

"I gave you an order, Remus."

"Oh," said Lupin. "No, no. Don't."

"Yes," said Sirius, flatly. He stopped moving. "Move for me."

"No. Don't stop. Please."

Sirius took one hand away from Lupin's hip and pinched him viciously on the side, making him jump. "That's it, work yourself against me. Ride me, Remus."

Lupin gave a dry sob, moving to kiss Sirius on the mouth before starting to do as he was told.

*

Remus was drifting off to sleep when he remembered.

"You were asleep when I arrived," he said, against Sirius's shoulder.

"Yes." Remus felt Sirius hesitate a moment before he asked, "Why?"

"It's nothing," said Remus, burrowing his face into the warm space against Sirius's neck. He felt the slight rumbling of the other boy's laughter before he heard it, and then Sirius's lips on his forehead. "I just thought I saw—but it's not important."

Sirius pulled the bedcovers over both of them. There were several dark stains on the finely woven material, the biggest of which were roughly the size of a Knut. Remus's blood. Earlier on, Sirius had licked blood off his body, had worried at the cut on his lip and sucked like a proverbial vampire.

"You're frowning," said Sirius. "I can feel it."

Remus said nothing. Sirius Black's safety was the least of his concerns. He let his hands trail down, tracing the sparse down of dark hair on Sirius's stomach.

"Again?" He could hear the smile in Sirius's voice; the smug, pretty little bastard.

"Again," said Remus. "All night."