Warning: semi-violent non-explicit werewolf/animagus sex with dubious consent.
Sirius tried to feel pleased that it was Christmas. After all, he was free, and there was snow on the ground in the Forbidden Forest. He frolicked halfheartedly through the white drifts for a while during the few hours of wintery daylight, but only ended up feeling cold and wet and lonely.
He kept Christmas with Hagrid, but a few days previously, Hagrid had received the bad news that his Hippogriff, Buckbeak, would be put on trial for attacking Sirius's cousin Narcissa's son, Draco Malfoy. Sirius had observed Malfoy while keeping an eye on Harry's Care of Magical Creatures lessons. He had also spent a great deal of time in Buckbeak's company, and was privately of the opinion that Malfoy had probably had it coming to him.
Sirius had spent Christmas day watching Hagrid get inconsolably drunk, and was in no mood to spend a second day in the same dismal fashion, no matter how warm it was in the hut.
As the weak sunlight began to fail on the day after Christmas, and the chill in the air became pronounced enough to penetrate even his thick coat, he knew his only remaining option for the night was the Shrieking Shack. It would be cold and lonely, but it would be shelter, and it still held a few happy memories to keep him company.
He dropped down into the secret passageway beneath the Whomping Willow and froze, sniffing the damp air. The tunnel smelled primarily of damp and decay, but his sensitive canine nose picked out the other scent immediately. Remus. Remus had been here, and within the last hour. And tonight was the full moon. He had gone to the Shrieking Shack to change.
Unsure what this might mean, Sirius made his way down the tunnel at a brisk trot, stopping occasionally to sniff the air. He was unsure whether he would prefer to encounter Remus before or after moonrise. It had to be close; it had been nearly dark when he had entered the tunnel, but he could not yet smell the sharp, animal musk of the wolf.
At last, he exited the passageway into the old house. He hesitated, then shifted forms. If Remus was still human, then it would be best to face him man to man, as it were. He could hear the creaking of the floorboards overhead. Cautiously, he took a step toward the stairs, and then another. The pacing in the room above stopped abruptly. Sirius froze. Then there was the sound of running feet, a door crashing open, heavy footsteps on the stairs.
Without pausing, Remus launched himself from the steps directly at Sirius, knocking him to the floor and crouching over him, a steady growl coming from his throat. His eyes shone molten gold in the darkness, and Sirius knew the wolf was rising in him. The moment of change would be upon him soon.
With a claw-like hand, Remus tore at the neck of Sirius's shirt, ripping the tattered fabric, and leaving red welts where his nails raked Sirius's skin. And then the wolf surfaced, and Sirius quickly shifted, growling right back at the great, gray beast.
Sirius was afraid. Not that the wolf would hurt him; the Halloween full moon had shown him that whatever change had occurred in the processes of Remus's lycanthropy, the wolf was far less violent than he remembered. No, what terrified him now was the scent hanging in the air around the wolf. He remembered it well, but now it caught him off guard: the wolf meant to claim his mate.
Reflexively, he defended himself from the onslaught of teeth and heavy paws. He could fight, he knew, and maybe escape, but did he truly want to? He had allowed himself to imagine since his flight from Azkaban what it would be like when he found Remus and all was well between them again, and they had all the time in the world to rediscover one another. But not like this.
Remus had taught him long ago the painful lesson that the wolf would take what it wanted, consequences and the wishes of others be damned. Remus would be unlikely to remember anything in the morning, but Sirius would forget nothing. Which would he regret more? Fighting, and the slim possibility of escape? Or submitting to the wolf's demands? The wolf in this state was more unpredictable than usual; resistance could lead to serious injury or even death.
They were wrestling and growling and snapping at one another, but Sirius could tell the wolf was only testing him, so far.
It was choice between what he wanted, and what he knew he ought to do, but in this case, Sirius had no time to make such a choice. While he was distracted by sharp, glistening teeth, a great, gray paw collided with the side of his head, stunning him momentarily. Without thinking, he rolled over onto his front and tried to crawl away until he could recover his senses.
The wolf's teeth closed on his neck, and the great shaggy body rose over his own, pinning him. He knew he could not escape; could not fight. Sirius closed his eyes and held his breath.
The wolf was neither slow nor gentle. He staked his claim on the black dog hard and fast, a deep growl of satisfaction rising in his throat. Sirius let out a yelp of pain and struggled weakly, but the teeth kept their grip on his neck, holding him still.
Sensation and memory flooded Sirius's mind, overwhelming him. This was neither the first nor the most unexpected time the wolf had dominated him like this. The occurrence had once been almost as regular as the full moon, and after the first shock, the stag and the rat had learned to give the two canines their space until the moment had passed.
His heart pounded and his breath came in a stuttering pant. He had forgotten what it felt like; the excitement - the danger of being thoroughly and completely possessed by the wolf. The beast reminded Sirius physically - almost brutally - that his soul was not his own, and Sirius gave himself up to that truth, whining and howling with the joy of it.
The dog watched the gray man as he slept upon the hard floorboards of the Shrieking Shack, and wondered at the power of the beast within him. How could a creature so capable of mayhem in the dark hours look so finished and vulnerable by the light of day?
Last night, he half-killed me, and now he looks like he couldn't raise a finger if his life depended on it.
He knew Remus would wake soon, and that when he did, he should be gone, but Sirius could not make himself go. Remus needed him. How many mornings had the young werewolf awakened, cold, stiff, sore, and oh, so grateful for the warmth of his own black fur? He took Remus's discarded wand in his mouth to prevent any accidents, and settled himself beside the sleeping man, offering his body as freely as he had the previous night.
With a sigh, Remus turned toward him, wrapping an arm around Sirius's middle and resting his cheek against the dog's thick coat. All was wonderful peace and stillness for a moment. Then, with a sudden cry, Remus tore away, throwing himself backward against the rough wall, staring around wildly.
His eyes met the dog's and he froze, then slowly rose to his feet, pale and shaking. Sirius rose, too, and faced the man, unsure what he should do. He shook himself. What he really ought to do was get out of there. But as he looked at the wary, uncertain man pressed naked against the Shrieking Shack wall, an almost human smile curved his lip.
I feel like I should offer to make him breakfast.
He wondered if Remus remembered or suspected anything about the previous night.
Regretfully, Sirius turned away. He paused in the doorway, and casting a longing look back at Remus, he placed the wand carefully on the dusty floor.
He left the house, regret weighing heavy in his heart. It should not have been like that. It never went that way in his head. When he had imagined it, his first time back with Remus had always included tenderness and soft words, and above all, forgiveness. There had been none of that. It wounded him deeply that this first encounter had amounted to little more than meaningless sex, at least on Remus's side of it.
It had been far from meaningless to Sirius, though. It had meant at least one very important thing: whatever Remus might feel, the wolf still wanted him - still considered him its mate. He shook himself, unable to even think of the events of the previous night without the sensations of it washing over him again. His chest felt tight, and he tried to ignore the growing arousal stealing over him once more.
Christ! Can I not even see the man without needing a wank afterward?
Well, perhaps after last night, it was understandable. The wolf had always teased him and used him mercilessly, but never allowed him release. Full moon nights had always left Sirius with a pair of aching balls.
He sighed. Well, it's not like I've got anything better to do today.