HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

A Dog is for Life, Not Just for Christmas

Bill woke on Christmas morning early, slowly, contented. Everything smelled of all past Christmases. His naked chest felt exposed so, without opening his eyes, he reached out for a blanket. He touched warm hair and looked down.

Sirius was grinning up at him, his head hovering over Bill's lap. A hamper from one of the better department stores, floated beside him. The lid was off and some of contents had been opened. So that explained the smell.

"Happy Christmas," Sirius whispered and held up a jar of Cranberry relish.

Bill tipped his head forward to see better. Naked, Sirius eased Bill's thighs apart and knelt between them. His tongue was held between his sharp, white teeth. He raised his wand and, wordlessly, directed the hamper to bob back a couple of feet. He then tapped the relish jar and swished his wand in the direction of Bill's groin.

He had little idea of what was going to happen, but Bill felt the warmth of blood beginning to harden his cock. His sensitive nerve-endings strummed as he experienced the gelatinous liquid gently paint itself along his length. Sirius moved his wand like a conductor, directing the relish to arc like a monochromic rainbow from the pot to Bill's body. Bill hummed contentedly as the shiny redness spread up and along and over and round, gently caressing.

He anticipated Sirius' mouth. Unexpectedly, though, with a firm flick, Sirius stopped the flowing and painting. He summoned the hamper back, returning the cranberry and picking out a slab of stilton.

Throbbing with arousal now, Bill grunted at the impact of each crumb of cheese as it dropped onto his over-sensitive flesh. Sirius smiled a wicked smile. Slowly, very slowly, he ran his tongue over his lips.

"Yes! Oh, please!" Bill begged.

The blue cheese softened in response to Bill's body temperature. Sirius touched a finger-tip to it and smeared it over the palpating, heated end of Bill's prick.

Bill threw his head back and groaned loudly.

"Is it breakfast time?" Sirius asked.

"Yes!"

"Now?"

"Yes!"

"What shall I have for my Christmas morning breakfast, then?"

"Shit, Sirius, don't!"

"Don't? You don't want me to have stilton and cranberry for my …"

"Yes! Yes, I mean … I don't know - just do it!" Bill was blind with his need now, digging his fingernails into the sheets, his back stretched into a curve.

"OK," Sirius whispered, the words puffing onto the soft skin of Bill's inner thigh.

There was the lightest pressure near the base of Bill's engorged shaft. Then tiny, teasing tickling, tongue-tip touches. Finally, one, long, flat-tongued stroke ran from the bottom to the top, making Bill's throat raw with exclamation. He looked down and watched Sirius sucking in his Yule-flavoured treat, little bit by little bit until he was eaten all up.

At last, Sirius' hands made contact, gently, with Bill's balls. Bill felt the hot, tugging fizzing that signalled he was nearly done for.

"I can't hold … I'm gonna …."

Suddenly, cold air hit his wet dick as Sirius pulled away. The breath left him as he was roughly tipped over onto his stomach. He tried to rock his hips, to grind his abandoned erection into the bed, but he was held still.

Bill twisted his head, saw Sirius flicking his wand, calling over the hamper again. He couldn't work out what was going on, but then he couldn't think very much at all. Sirius pulled out a small, white, ceramic crock pot with a muslin cover. It was wafted under his nose, smelled of alcohol. Sirius threw his wand away. With one hand he kept a determined hold on Bill's pelvis, while he dug the other into the pot. He scooped up a handful of soft, golden yellow …

Brandy butter. I'm a pudding? Ah, no! Special Christmas edition of Last Tango In Paris …Bill's fevered brain finally supplied. Sure enough, his arse crack was swiftly filled with the grease which was then pushed urgently into him. He managed to shove back and up, against the direction of the ramming hand.

"Time for something sweet!" Sirius growled out behind him somewhere and entered without resistance.

The air was full of seasonal smells: cranberry, stilton, brandy, arse and cock. Sirius pounded into Bill's pliant body which soon added the sharp scent of spunk.

Sirius didn't last much longer before he, too, came loudly and then collapsed, exhausted, onto Bill's back.

"Mmm. Merry Christmas, sweetheart," Bill muttered, adding, "Thanks."

As comfortable as it was to lie there, pressing cooling, naked skin together, the daylight beyond the curtains started to worry Bill.

"Your present now," he said, reluctantly pushing his drowsy lover off him.

Bill reached under the bed and pulled out his wand and a small, wrapped box. He placed it on his palm and Sirius sat up with interest. Sirius went to take the little box, but Bill stopped him. He tapped it with his wand and the box grew. He dropped it onto the food-soiled bed as it expanded until it was the size of the hamper.

"OK. Go!" Bill ordered, grinning, and Sirius tore off the paper.

"What is it?" Sirius asked, gawping at the black cube with glass on the front.

Bill laughed, then answered, "It's a television! You said you wanted one …"

Sirius gave Bill a big kiss.

"It's brilliant!" Sirius answered. "I get so bored!"

"The programs are all Muggle and most of it's crap …" Bill waved his hands apologetically. "But your Mum'll hate it and that's what really matters."

After a lingering snog, they carefully separated their sticky pubic hair and then performed some cleaning charms on each other's bodies. Bill put on his dressing gown and slipped from the room with a last, fond, backwards glance.

He heard the stereo gasp as he turned towards the stairs. Two figures stood frozen on the landing. The light was low, but he recognised the identical heads of tousled red hair.

"Aye, aye? What's going on here?" Fred asked in a whisper.

"Sneaking out of Sirius' bedroom?" George asked in a whisper.

"Been in there all night?" Fred surmised.

Bill's mind was a blank. What was the perfectly reasonable explanation for this? He felt his mouth opening and closing uselessly. He'd been caught out. There was nothing left for it but damage limitation. No point discussing it there on the landing and risking waking anyone else. He grabbed a pyjama collar in each fist and dragged the twins back into Sirius' room.

The teenagers' faces shone with surprise and delight as they surveyed the mess. Bill had forgotten about that. A tense-looking Sirius had got a sheet pulled over the lower half of his bare body, and the hamper was flying away from the bed, with the jars once again inside it, but there were smears of cheese, relish and greasy butter spots all over the linen. As well as the other stains.

"Well, that's just greedy!" Fred pronounced.

"Naughty big brother!" George added.

The twins investigated, each prowling round a different side of the bed.

Fred straightened up and looked Bill in the eye, "Fleur not enough for you?" he asked, cheekily.

Bill's heart was thudding. His throat was dry. He didn't know what his answer was, found himself walking towards Fred, trying to cook up a reply.

"Very greedy!" George's amused voice came from the other side of the bed.

"He should share," Fred agreed with a sly grin.

Bill felt defensive, scared and irritated, but when Fred added, "My turn with Fleur when she's back in the country then?" the fury rose from his gut.

"Don't you dare --" he started.

George interrupted him from the other side of the room, "Good children share with their little brothers."

Bill looked over and realised that George was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyeing up Sirius' exposed body and Sirius didn't seem to mind nearly enough. After a quick, assessing glance towards Bill, George leaned over and planted a hasty kiss on Sirius' lips.

Roaring with anger, Bill charged across the room.

"You little bastard!"

George leaped away nimbly, but ended up backed into the corner and Bill in front of him.

"Bill! Careful!" Sirius warned, but there was a trace of infuriating humour in his voice.

Bill turned on him. "You fucking hypocrite!" he spat. "He's younger than Fleur."

Sirius raised open hands and spluttered, "I didn't do anything!"

There was a tense pause, Bill pushing George against the wall by his two shoulders and looking from Fred to Sirius to George, trying to make sense of his feelings, trying to calm himself down.

"I don't think that's the way to ask them a favour," Sirius suggested quietly. "Weren't you wanting them to keep quiet?"

Bill relaxed his grip and backed away from George, who smirked at him.

"Not fair." Fred pouted. "Do I get to kiss Fleur then?"

Bill raised a warning finger. He said, "Don't even …" but could get no further.

The twins exchanged cheeky glances.

"What are you two doing sneaking round at the top of the house at this time of the morning anyway?" Sirius asked.

Yes, good point! Bill tried to focus. His emotions were fluctuating and spinning, paralysing him.

George warily edged round his older brother, heading towards the door.

"Hippogryph milk," he muttered.

"Just a sample," Fred added, inching towards his twin.

Sirius laughed his reassuring, barking laugh. "Buckbeak's a boy!"

The twins swore. Then Fred nudged George.

"The blood has properties, though, right?" George asked Sirius.

Sirius sighed. "You want some of Buckbeak's blood for one of your secret experiments?"

The twins nodded, unnervingly, in unison. They had always done that. All their lives. Bill had never got used to it.

"Is that the price of your silence?" asked the dark, intense man sitting up clearly naked in the bed Bill had clearly just left.

"Well …" George started softly, staring hungrily at the dark, curling hair and sculpted, pale skin of Sirius' chest again.

Fred spoke over him with authority, "A couple of pints would do it. It's bloody difficult to get hold of. And we'll take all knowledge of this liaison to the grave."

Bill caught Sirius' eyes flicking over to George just once.

"I'll leave it in your room," Sirius promised Fred. Then he looked over to Bill, adding, "Even Buckbeak's suffering for your secret now."