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.

Canine Teeth

"Harry did not mention his vague suspicions to Sirius, whose cheerfulness was evaporating fast now that Christmas was over. As the date of their departure back to Hogwarts drew nearer, he became more and more prone to what Mrs Weasley called 'fits of the sullens', in which he would become taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Buckbeak's room for hours at a time. His gloom seeped through the house, oozing under doorways like some noxious gas, so that all of them became infected by it."

(Chapter 24, Occlumency, HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX.)

_______________________________________________________

Of all the physical sensations he had enjoyed on Christmas morning, the one that stayed with Sirius was the kiss from George. It had been fresh and unexpected. It had made him realise how tainted the pleasure was that he got from his contact with Bill. Every touch was full of love and want, but also hurt and hunger. Always secret. George had behaved spontaneously, without shame, in front of two of his brothers. Nobody had ever seen Bill kiss Sirius.

Of all the conversations he had had recently, one phrase rang through him: Fred saying, "My turn with Fleur when she's back in the country then?"

She was out of the country. Fleur was away. Time to bring on the substitute. Just a week or two settling for second best. The wife was spending Christmas in France with her parents. So the Boy could have a turn, they could pretend it was a relationship. Bill could talk about love, and maybe he had felt it when he said it. But when the girlfriend returned he could forget it again. Sirius would go back to being the dirty little secret, the bit on the side. Or maybe not even that.

He wasn't mentally strong. It might be easier to break away, to do without Bill altogether, than to go back to those painful days of waiting, those hours of loving someone who he knew was with someone else.

Did that kiss mean he had options? He didn't have to put up with waiting for the scraps to fall from Fleur's table? Somebody could love Sirius full-time? Not George, obviously, though it had been nice to be liked by someone so youthful and good-looking. No, George was a schoolboy. And he looked too much like his big brother. And not Remus, that was too complicated. But maybe someone?

He didn't want anyone else. He wanted Bill, all of Bill, but all or nothing.

Sirius threw another rat at Buckbeak and stomped downstairs. It was two days - two nights of frantic fumbling - since Christmas. Soon Arthur would be out of hospital, the youngsters would be back at school and Fleur would be back at work. Then Sirius would be alone again.

Bill was hovering at the door to his own bedroom. He looked anxious. He looked around to make sure nobody could see, then jerked his head for Sirius to come into the room. What did he think Sirius was? A dog? Sirius kept walking, down staring at his moving feet.

Bill grabbed his arm and pulled him in, shutting the door behind them.

"You hurt my arm," Sirius accused.

Bill hadn't really, but he could have done. And he constantly hurt Sirius in ways the older man was not about to demean himself by listing.

"Sorry," Bill muttered. "What's up Siz? Talk to me."

Sirius looked over Bill's shoulder, into the room.

"That bed looks like it hasn't been slept in."

"Well, it hasn't."

"You don't want anyone getting suspicious."

Bill pouted and cocked his head on one side. "So come and help me rumple it."

Sirius shook his head. He was too washed with the blackness to play flirtatious games.

"Maybe you should sleep in it tonight," he suggested dully.

Bill looked devastated. "Why?" he asked.

Sirius just opened the door and walked out of the room. Bill should just get it. He should know. If he really loved him. Which he clearly didn't.

Bill wasn't at supper. Molly said he was sitting with Arthur. George was there, though, so was Remus. But what did they matter? What did anyone matter?

Sirius sulked up to his room afterwards and put in his ear-phones. Bob Geldof could distract him. He knew how to be angry. Pulp was crap, it was Bill's music. Modern music had turned Sirius soft. He wanted the rebellion of the Boomtown Rats.

He played 'Looking After No.1' over and over, letting the anger release the pain, from the thumping drums at the opening to the echoing defiantly shouted, "I'm gonna be like me!" and that last drum stamp at the end. "I am an island! Entire of myself!" he tried to convince himself. "And I owe nobody nothing!" "I'll step on your face, on my mother's grave." "I'm nobody's fool." "I don't want to live like you!"

But he always got caught out when Bob sang: "I always get what I want and I want to get you."

Eventually he let the CD finish itself off and lay still, hoping for sleep. He could feel Bill's presence on the storey below. Waves of 'Bill' floated through the floorboards. It was like electricity or magic and it was giving him a headache. Sirius' bed felt huge and cold. He twitched with the knowledge of how Bill's body warmth would feel, pressed against his own side. Just sleeping. He couldn't work out how to breath without Bill's pattern to copy.

He felt defeated and pitiful, like a junky waiting for a fix. Once Sirius Black had been a proud and strong man, but he had to accept his reduced status. He would make do with what he could get and hate himself for it. He pulled on a dressing gown and crept down one flight of stairs. Bill's door was unlocked. Sirius crossed the floor on bare feet, in darkness.

"Sirius!" Bill croaked.

Sirius followed the sound. "This just means I'm pathetic. That's all this means," he said.

"I love you," Bill whispered. His voice sounded strangely thick.

Sirius snorted cynically. He sat on the edge of the bed and put his hand down. It landed on the pillow. It was wet.

Sirius gave a low chuckle. "That's either localised bedwetting or you just cried me a river."

Bill sniffed. Sirius cast Lumos and examined Bill's face. It was blotchy and swollen. It was still wet in places. He really had been crying. But did it mean anything?

"I don't know what's wrong, Siz." Bill's voice quavered. He sniffed again. "Tell me what's wrong. Is it something I can fix?"

"Are you really that thick?" Sirius still felt harsh.

"Obviously. Yes."

"She's in France, isn't she? You didn't even bother to tell me."

"Sorry," but Bill still looked confused.

"That's why you've had so much time for me. She'll come back, I'll be relegated …"

"No, no, no. I love you Siz. I don't love her like I love you …"

"Words are easy, Bill. Tears are cheap. Meanwhile, I wait for you in the dark. I'm still sitting on that towel and you're still saying, 'Don't tell anyone, will you?'. I've lost too much living already."

"What do you want me to do?" Bill asked.

Sirius shook his head. "I've told you. I just told you," he snarled. "You won't do it and I'm not going to beg."

Then Sirius ended the Lumos spell and cast a drying charm on the pillow. He lay down in Bill's single bed with him.

"Hold me," he ordered.

Bill wrapped his arms round his lover and squeezed so hard that Sirius thought he might break. Not that he would have minded that.

He turned his mouth until it was against Bill's earlobe.

"Of course you want everything," he hissed. "I know what it's like to have everything. Why would you change that?"

"I just want you," Bill breathed back. But Sirius knew better than to believe him.

They slept wrapped round each other and, right up until dawn, when Sirius slipped back to his own bed, they ignored their hard-ons and just cuddled.